Shifters' Storm (28 page)

“I’m doing what I have to. You’re my connection to the world. I must have that. Must keep you with me.”

Although she didn’t move, barely breathed, Mala felt a man’s hand cover hers, pull it off her belly and replace it with his own. Shivering, she asked herself the vital, stupid question: did she want this? Hell yes!

Impatient with clothing, he yanked off her shorts as if he had every right to do whatever he wanted with and to her and threw them on the floor. Her practical briefs no longer hugged her waist, but had been pulled half off her hips. She waited for them to join her shorts. Instead, a hand that felt like fine sandpaper slid under the fabric. In her mind—maybe only in her mind—she spread her legs. She felt so damn exposed, like a mare in heat waiting to be mounted.

Strong, short fingernails teased away her pubic hair and found willing flesh. His other hand settled over her hipbone and pressed her against the mattress. She arched her spine, but although she might have been able to break free, that was the last thing on her mind. In truth she wasn’t sure she still had a brain, not that it mattered. Forget self-restraint. Bring on an old-fashioned dose of sex. For an excruciating length of time, he simply held her prisoner while his nails tasted and tested the rounded bulge in front of her clit. She couldn’t think past the exploration. Wanted more.

He knew what he was doing. Oh damn, did he.

“Don’t…make me…”
Don’t make me wait, please,
she finished silently.

She heard laughter. A moment later the hand slid fully between her legs. He cupped her cunt and pressed. For maybe a half-second she was terrified of his bold possession, but what the hell. He wasn’t here in the flesh. Besides, whatever was going on was a thousand times better than masturbating.

Sometimes raking lightly, sometimes pressing with enough force that it bordered on the painful, he branded her now pulsating bud. He teased at the entrance to her passage as she broke out in a sweat, but although he must know how desperately she wanted it, he didn’t penetrate. Just the same, she felt herself rising, rising, growing and becoming hot. No, not just hot. On fire! It was happening so fast. So hard. So close to climax. So close!

“Fuck me,” she begged. “Damn you, do it!”

“No.”

“Damn you.”

“Not yet.”

“Yet? What—” Before she could continue, he caught her swollen bud between thumb and forefinger. Gasping, she arched toward him, nearly levitating off the bed. Just one more touch, please, just one and she’d be there. Gone!

“No! Please,” she gasped when suddenly, cruelly, he released her. “Don’t stop. Not now!”

“Soon. I promise.”

Still on fire, she threw herself into a sitting position and looked wildly around. She was wet between her legs. Throbbed. On the brink.

Brought to that place by a man who existed only in her mind. Who spoke and commanded and claimed in ways that defied description and both thrilled and terrified her. Like a drunk without a drink for too long, she couldn’t focus on anything except the next time. And there would be a next, damn it! Only, when he again clamped his hard, powerful hand over her cunt, he’d better be there in person.

To break this curse, they’ll have to turn the heat up. Way up…

The Yearning

© 2011 Tina Donahue

Jasmine Dante prowls Key West’s nightlife, fighting a losing battle against a jealous rival’s curse that forces her to seek carnal pleasure, no matter the danger. Weakened from lack of sleep, driven by insatiable lust, she spots a man who stirs her desperate craving, and begins yet another dance of seduction.

Except the dark stranger who returns her direct stare is no ordinary lover. Inside his powerful body lies a raw sexuality that just might be enough to break her curse. There’s only one way to find out: imprison him in her bed and feed on his passion.

Former U.S. Marshal Mike Stearn is many things, but he’s no woman’s sex slave. The deadly telekinetic power he ruthlessly suppresses comes alive again at Jasmine’s touch. Beneath her bold, potent sensuality he senses vulnerability and desperation. He may be in handcuffs, but she’s the one who’s enslaved.

As Mike resurrects his power to free himself so he can find the curse’s source and defeat it, Jasmine revels in his masterful rule. Her ravenous yearning evolves into rapture as she surrenders to his hunger, her darkest needs—and the emotional connection that lies beyond. Unless the curse takes her life first…

Warning: Tons of steamy sex, smoldering passion and a to-die-for love story with a hot Alpha hero who finds himself imprisoned by one sultry and desperate babe.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Yearning:

Desire compelled Jasmine forward even as a thread of panic stole up her spine. Had Violet and Lily seen them leave the floor? If not, how long would it be before they noticed? Where was he taking her?

His earlier comment nagged. He didn’t have anything planned for the next couple of days or nights.

Jasmine forced down a swallow. She’d asked about work to learn if he’d be missed immediately. Too easily, he told her he would not. Her sisters would be pleased if she lured him to their house tonight. If not, where would she end up?

Dizzy with ambivalence, she allowed him to lead her past the restrooms and a small, cluttered office. He paused at the opened back door where two club employees enjoyed a smoke and shared laughter. The young men cast them a look, then exchanged knowing glances. Sly smiles plumped their youthful cheeks as they discarded their cigarettes and moved past, returning to their jobs.

Mike brought her outside. Late-summer air, humid and heavy with the ocean’s tang, enveloped her. The dimly lit alley stretched the length of this establishment and the other businesses. Her heart jumped at the metallic clack of the door closing. She heard traffic whooshing by on the next street. Faint music pumped from the club. Laughter floated on the gentle breeze, coming from an unknown place, since she and Mike were the only ones around. She asked, “Why are we back here?”

His mouth captured hers. Her apprehension fell away, turning into stark need. She tried to slip her arm over his shoulder. He stopped her, taking her wrist and tearing his mouth free. “Not here.”

Her heels clicked on the asphalt as he led her to the adjacent building, set back from the club and closed for the night. He stopped next to a door stenciled with fading white letters stating: Delivery Only. If the same young men or others came outside for a smoke, they wouldn’t see her or him.

Without warning, images of Travis sped through her mind. Him ordering her to undress in the secluded apartment above his shop. Her wrists and ankles lashed to his bed. His frightening smile.

Jasmine’s heart crashed into her chest. She looked at Mike, her emotions torn between worry and craving.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, reading her fear. Holding her face gently, he studied her, his dark eyes concerned. “Have you been raped?”

It never got that far. Her sisters had arrived and—she shook her head, not wanting to think about it. “No.”

“But someone hurt you.”

Her mind saw the belt in Travis’s hand. She recalled its whistle as it hit the air. “He tried. I got away.”

“A boyfriend?”

She lied. “Yes.” Her voice sounded strange, strangled as she next offered the truth. “He seemed fine at first. I didn’t know he was doing meth and that he’d injured another woman. He got crazy and—” She couldn’t continue.

Mike’s thumbs skimmed her jawline, stoking her pulse, making her limp and restless for more.

“Why did you choose me tonight?” he asked.

Her smile wobbled, feeling weird. “Like I said before, I liked the way you handled that young woman. You were the perfect gentleman.”

“That may be, but I wasn’t the only one showing restraint. The bouncer was a regular sweetheart.”

Her smile widened. “I’m sure he’s a nice guy and really I don’t want to sound unkind, but he’s not you. Haven’t you seen yourself in a mirror recently?” She could scarcely hold back her wonder. “You’re freaking awesome.”

He barked a laugh. “Bullshit.”

“You are.” She touched his bottom lip with her fingers, breathless at its silkiness. Her words rushed out. “I spotted you the moment I reached the dance floor. It pissed me off when the redhead got to you first. The server told me there were a dozen other women interested in you. Could be she was lying. It might have been more. That’s why I sent you the beer. It was the only way I knew to get you to notice me.”

His eyes rounded in amazement. “You wouldn’t be putting me on now, would you?”

She reached for her purse. “I have a mirror. You really should look at your—”

“Fuck that.” He lowered his head and captured her mouth.

An indecent grunt tore from the back of her throat. Lips parting, she accepted his tongue, needing its wet warmth more than she required oxygen or food. She tasted a hint of the beer he’d drank, along with his flavor, which spoke of cleanliness and good health. His chin and upper lip rasped hers with his beginning stubble.

She wound her arms around him. Eager to touch, her hands moved up and down his muscled back.

He ground his lean hips into her mound, taunting her with his imposing cock. Her pussy clenched, bidding him inside. Unaware, he trailed his fingers over her cheek, sending tingles to her temple. His hand ventured lower, past the line of her jaw and throat to the edge of her halter. He hesitated, interpreting her reaction, before he slipped his fingers inside, his palm clothing her naked breast, his heat searing it. She edged nearer, her knees knocking his, telling him she craved all he had to give. Assured, he squeezed her flesh hungrily.

It wasn’t enough.

With his superior height and weight, he backed her into the building. Shoulders pressing the weathered wood, she moaned. His tongue invaded deeper, while his other hand explored.

Bunching her skirt in his fist, he lifted the gauzy fabric, exposing her to the night air. Its sultry breath licked the moisture bathing her opening. The side of his hand grazed her, moving from her navel to her mound.

There, he stopped, most likely surprised. He broke the kiss, stepped back and whispered, “My God.”

Mike dropped to one knee in front of her and looked up.

Silken waves the color of cocoa framed her face. Her graceful nostrils flared. She searched his eyes, no doubt gauging what lay beneath his shock.

He found it difficult to breathe or think. She wasn’t wearing panties. Even more amazing was what she did wear—a silvery belly chain and navel ring with tiny diamonds in an ornate design that dangled over her slightly rounded stomach. The gems winked in the scant light, trailing beads of brightness to her shaved pubes.

Jasmine’s feminine folds were slick with womanly moisture, plump and impatient. In spite of her bad experience with the fucker she’d dated, she hadn’t given up on men. She wanted him. Equally important, she trusted him.

His cock hardened painfully, insistent on entry. Eyes closed, he touched his mouth to her smooth mound, enthralled by the exposed skin. His tongue snaked over it.

She gasped and parted her legs, enticing him further.

Her real scent, earthy and feminine, wafted up, stealing what remained of his admired restraint. “Grab the ends of your skirt on each side.” He had to taste her.

Obedient, she gathered the fabric in her hands and pulled it to her waist.

He pushed her wrists into the building, holding them captive as he examined her. The murky light didn’t hide her engorged clit, blushing dark above her cleft. He’d seen few things more beautiful. Tongue poised, he flicked it over her erect nub.

She moaned brazenly, her thigh muscles tensing. As cautious as she’d been, now she became wild, twisting her hips to bring her mound closer to his mouth, begging for relief. Mike wasn’t about to give it so easily. By dragging this out in a public place, where someone might discover them, he’d added to the allure. Like most women, she wanted simulated danger.

A riot of sounds filled the steamy night—the rumble of passing cars, a horn blaring with its shriek weakened by distance, snatches of voices carried on the muggy wind, Jasmine’s mewl in response to his mouth embracing her defenseless sex.

His tongue probed her inner recesses, lapping her salty dew, indulging his appetite, while ignoring hers. She bent her knees to force his tongue nearer her clit. He used more pressure on her wrists, wordlessly commanding her to follow his lead. To wait for what he would offer.

“Please,” she groaned in a guttural voice.

Resting his forehead on her belly, he breathed heavily, refusing to relent. “Straighten your knees.”

The back of her head hit the building with a tiny, frustrated whack. Her wrists flexed within his grasp as she clenched her fists. Each panting gasp quivered her sweet little tummy. Finally, her knees straightened.

Pleased, he licked the trail of light drizzling toward her groin. She reacted instantly, nudging nearer, intent on her goal.

Not yet ready to allow it, he moved his head away, tipping it back to look at her. She’d sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. Her eyes sought his and implored.

He winked.

Her slender brows arched.

Swooping down, he latched onto her sex, his tongue circling her clit. Contented sighs poured from her each time he made brief contact with the nub. Soon, she learned the value of obedience and opened her body to his will. Not even the murmur of female voices coming from the end of the alley slowed Jasmine’s hitching breaths. Oblivious to everything except this—or simply not caring what anyone else saw—she delivered herself to him.

Shifters’ Storm

Vonna Harper

She needs their courage—and their bodies. The feeling is mutual…

Law enforcement warnings be damned, nothing will stop Rane from returning to the Chinook Mountains to discover who murdered her mother, a fellow forest ranger. Except maybe the fact that her elk shifter lover, Songan, is in the middle of rut season.