While she stroked him languidly, possessively, Jean-Baptiste turned to her other plump breast and suckled that one, too. He drew the fiercely tight nipple deep into his mouth until she cried out, until she squeezed the head of his dick—until pre-come rushed from both their sexes.
He knew the words he’d uttered to her had been impulsive as hell. The offer, the claim to mark her. But it had also been real and true, and had come from deep within his guts. How the fuck had he managed to meet the one female in the world who was meant for him? It was a goddamn miracle—and one he wasn’t about to turn away from. Maybe he wasn’t the best male for her. Not now. Not yet. But he wanted to be. He’d find a way to be.
As he circled her nipple with his tongue, then flicked it sharply up and down, back and forth, she moaned and gasped and writhed beneath him. Her thumb played with the pre-come at the head of his cock as he trailed his hand down over her ribs, to her flat stomach, to her hipbones and into the smooth curve of her sex. When he felt the fire, the molten lava between her legs, he nearly came.
“Sweet, Genny,” he whispered against her breast. “You’re creaming, ma chérie. Your thighs, your hot pussy and my sheets are drenched.” He ran his teeth over her nipple. “Just the way I like it.”
“Jean-Baptiste, please,” she said breathlessly, wriggling against his wrist, wanting his hand, needing to be filled. And when he thrust two fingers up inside her slick, tight channel, she screamed his name again.
Tight, wet heat gripped his fingers, and he moaned and lifted his head. Her eyes were glassy and large and pinned to his face. Her lips were parted and she was panting.
Shit, he wouldn’t last at this rate. One drive into her pussy and his cock was going to explode.
He took her mouth in a series of hungry, possessive, painful kisses as he growled against her lips, and his fingers pumped inside her slowly and rhythmically.
“Please, Jean-Baptiste,” she murmured, nipping at his bottom lip as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Please come inside me. I need to know. I need to know how you feel.”
I need you.
The realization, the absolute truth in that thought, thundered through him, and he eased his fingers out of her, grabbed his stiff cock and pressed it against the plump, pink folds that guarded her slick pussy. He glanced down, saw the way her flesh hugged the head of his dick, beckoned him inside, creamed around him in anticipation.
And then she jacked up her hips, taking him inside her just an inch or two.
Jean-Baptiste felt his mind retreating and his body taking over.
Mine.
You belong to me.
He slid his hands beneath her hips, cupped her ass and lifted her, letting her body take him, one inch at a time until he was buried inside of her. Her eyes dropping closed, her face tensing and her throat releasing groan after groan, Baptiste guided her back and forth, her pussy fucking his cock. It was the most perfect feeling in the world, and he knew in that moment that if anyone tried to come between them, if anyone even looked at this female with lust in their eyes, he would attack to kill.
He eased her hips to the mattress, released her, only to spread her legs wider. He placed his hands on her inner thighs and started thrusting.
She cried out. “Yes! God, yes!”
“Your pussy is milking me, Genny,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s like blisteringly hot ocean waves all the way down my cock, ma chérie. I don’t know how long I can last.”
She was gone, her head thrashing from side to side on the mattress. Jean-Baptiste pulled out, just partway so he could see her, him, their connection. Her dusky pink lips were wrapped around his cock, coating him in her sweet juices. Christ, if he could lick her and fuck her at the same time, he would.
His head dipped and he closed his lips around one luscious tit. As he pumped inside of her, he drew on that nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Inside her pussy, the honey sweet walls were spasming, electric currents and waves of wet heat.
“Jean-Baptiste!” she cried out, stiffening beneath him.
He battered her womb, suckled her nipple deep, as she came. With every thrust, he growled. With every new wave of orgasm, he cursed. With every roll of his hips, he claimed what had belonged to him the moment she’d walked onto that porch and eyed him warily, that goddamn blouse buttoned up to her chin.
She wasn’t buttoned up now, he mused, fucking her so deep she cried out again. She was bare. Skin glistening with sweat, stomach muscles flexed, ripe breasts bouncing with every thrust, neck and jaw tense, lips parted as she breathed heavy and lustful.
She was his.
And when her slick channel convulsed for the third time that night, when she reached up, ran her fingers over his nipple, and tugged at the metal running through it, he exploded.
Pounding into her with utter and complete abandon, his body shaking and his balls tightening, he came, so hard and intense he felt something impossible overtake him. No. Not overtake him. Retreat inside him.
The cat.
He thrust up inside her one last time, and stayed there, buried against her womb, her warmth. Then he rolled them both to the side, and, breathing heavily, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. His heart was slamming against his ribs; his mind going nuts. He found her gaze. Her eyes were the bluest he’d ever seen them. And soft and satisfied and…dare he say, happy?
But inside himself, a miracle was taking place. The out-of-control, barely caged cat that he’d been trying to keep hidden for so long was purring. Fuck. The feline was nearly asleep. His tats and his piercings, and the malachite had never even come close to making him feel like this. Like her.
Genevieve.
His beautiful, sweet, and debilitatingly sexy Genny.
She controlled his cat.
Genevieve ran her hand up his arm, over the bulging muscle, over the growling pumas to his shoulder and neck. He was too beautiful.
Oh, god. What had she done?
What blissful, amazing, mind-bending act had she given into? Begged for? Wanted again, even now.
Jean-Baptiste was right. Seduction was a lie, an excuse—something you used to protect yourself from the vulnerability of asking for what you wanted.
She released a breath, her eyes connecting to his under the haze of moonlight streaming in through the window. Here she was, curled around this spectacular male, his arms protecting her, his gaze fiercely possessive, his cock still stiff and pulsing inside of her. And she never wanted to move again. Her throat felt suddenly tight. How was she ever going to walk away and forget this, forget him? How was she going to continue her quest and her mission when the sun rose the next day? Make sure Isi remained where she was, and then return to the Wildlands and a life that could never include him? Them? This…
His brows moved together in a frown of concern. “Genny?”
She pulled eye contact and buried herself deeper against his chest. “Don’t go,” she whispered into his skin. “I want to stay like this a little while longer.”
Jean-Baptiste chuckled softly, his hands running down her back to cup her ass. “A little while? Oh, ma chérie. We have all night.”
No, Jean-Baptiste, she thought sadly, letting her eyes drift closed and her breathing soften. We only have one night.