«What kind of girl?» Suspicion crept into his voice.
«Needy. High-maintenance.»
«I do not doubt that for a minute.» His gaze drifted over her face and something in him shifted. Stilled. «Come here.»
Natalya backed up. She meant to hold her ground, but his eyes had gone to a smoky gray and darkened with intense heat. With desire. A shiver of excitement went down her spine. She licked her lips and wasn't certain whether it was necessary or deliberately provocative.
«You heard me, Natalya.» His voice was low. Utterly soft. A whisper of velvet stroking her body, stroking nerve endings. «Come here to me.»
Excitement surged through her. He looked grim and forbidding, his face etched with lines from the battle, his hair flowing like silk and his body so hard with his need of her. But it was his eyes, the deep hunger, the way he looked as if he were starving for her body that set her pulse pounding. The way he looked as if nothing could or would stop his possession of her.
She needed that look. She craved a man who wanted her so much nothing could stand in his way. She didn't care if that made her strange, it was who she was, who the tigress was. She wanted that implacable resolve. She wanted that possessive mouth commanding hers, his hands rough and his body hard and painfully full.
She stepped closer. Just out of reach. Tantalizingly out of reach. She wanted to prolong the moment. Heighten his desire. She wanted to see his eyes glaze with the same brutal hunger clawing at her.
Vikirnoff felt lust rising sharply, mingling with something far more potent. He caught her arm, pulled her the scant feet separating them so that her body fell against his. Her heat nearly melted him. Her skin was satin soft. Her breasts pushed into his chest so that he felt her hard nipples rise and fall against him with each breath she took. His fingers fisted in her hair, pulling her head back so his mouth fused with hers.
Natalya was certain electricity crackled in the air around them. Liquid heat poured through her body, through veins and muscle, nearly catching her on fire. She felt the harsh tug on her hair, his mouth crushing hers, eating at hers with a wild abandon and she needed more. Demanded more. She caught at his shirt, tore at it, desperate to get at his skin. All the while she devoured his mouth, kiss for kiss, exploring with teeth and tongue, making her own demands, deliberately pushing his need higher.
He brushed aside his clothing in the way of his people, with barely a thought other than he wished them gone. Catching the front of her camisole, he stripped it away, baring her breasts to his hungry gaze, the primitiveness of the action heightening his pleasure. She was beautiful, spilling out of the material, round and firm and good enough to eat. He bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth.
Her hips bucked hard against him, her belly contracted and a hot moan escaped. He held her there, suckling at her breast, her body on fire and her needs swamping him. With each
swipe of his tongue and tug of his teeth, he felt her body rock, her muscles contract; he knew her body was wet and slick and welcoming. Her mind was wide open to his deliberately. She shared her desire, fed his needs with her own open abandon. Whatever he wanted, she was there to fulfill for him and she expected the same.
His hand slid down her belly to the little ring that had intrigued him so much. He touched it, slid lower to find her pants.
«Take them off of me,» she ordered, bending forward to lick at his nipples. «Hurry, Vikirnoff. Get my clothes. They hurt my skin.»
He stripped her, deliberately rough, arousing her further as he walked her backward until she was against the cavern wall, took possession of her mouth again as he pulled her naked body tightly against his.
She cried out, unable to stop the small sound, uncaring that he knew she wanted to sob with so much pleasure running through her body. She ground her hips against him, wanting more, seeking more. His hand cupped her breast in reward, thumb teasing her nipple, stroking and caressing so that waves rippled through her body and tightened her womb. «More,» she whispered, greedy for it all, every experience.
His teeth nibbled at her chin, teased her throat and nipped the swell of her breast. He lifted her easily, his strength enormous, holding her pinned against the wall while he laved her belly button and pressed little kisses on her stomach.
Her breath came in gasps. She tried to wrap her legs around him, so hot and wet she needed relief, but he lifted her to a ledge, so that her bottom sank into a groove there. His hands were hard on her knees jerking her thighs apart. The cool air hit her hot core, but nothing could cool her, nothing could make the ache stop.
She heard her own heart beat. She heard the sound of her ragged breathing. Then his breath was on her. His peculiar brand. A claiming that would never go away. She felt it deep inside and her entire body tightened to the point of pain. She was nearly sobbing for him. His hand cupped her mound, pressed into her heat. She jerked, twisting with hunger. Her pulse pounded in her ears, throbbed in her womb. His finger slid through her heat, pressed deeper into her.
That easy she came, shattering into fragments, her body so responsive she couldn't hide her reaction if she wanted to. Her eyes met his. She loved his face, the masculine lines etched so deep there, a warrior's face. A lover's face. She brushed her fingertips over the lines, traced his lips, all the while staring into his eyes, reveling in the sheer intensity of his desire for her, the feel in his mind that he was on the razor thin edge of his control.
«I want you, Natalya.» His voice was husky. His fingers pushed deep so that she couldn't stop the way her hips rode him, every muscle contracting with heart-stopping pleasure.
«I know you do, Vikirnoff. I want you, too.» She could barely manage to get the words out, gasping as his fingers retreated and plunged deep again.
He shook his head. «I mean you. I want you to understand I do not want any other woman. Only you.»
She cried out as his fingers withdrew. He caught her hips in his hands, his thighs wedging between hers. «Look at me, ainaak sivamet jutta, I want you to know who you are with.»
She met his gaze steadily. «I know exactly who I'm with.»
His erection was painfully hard, almost an agony he could no longer bear. He needed to be deep inside of her where he belonged. Where they would be connected for all time. He pressed against her feminine channel, so wet and slick and hot with hunger for him.
Natalya moaned and the sound was almost too much for him, vibrating through his body until it felt like fingers on his too-tight skin stroked and caressed up and down the length of his erection. He kept her gaze captive as he pressed into her, a slow, long stroke that pushed through her feminine folds so that she gripped him like a tight fist. His breath escaped in a long rush of air as he waited for her body to accept him, waited to push a little deeper. Again. And then again. He wanted to be so deep she would never get him out.
She shuddered with pleasure. His fingers dug deep into her hips, holding her into the seat in the ledge. He began to move, withdrawing, a long excruciatingly slow movement that robbed her of her ability to think. She could only feel, could only dig her nails deep into his arm and hang on as he plunged into her, thrusting hard and deep, driving through her velvet folds while she screamed his name. He didn't stop, but kept surging powerfully into her, thick and hard, pushing through her tight folds, tilting her to get a better angle, holding her on the edge of release until she sobbed for relief. The loss of control shattered her when she'd always had so much control. It was frightening to need so much, to feel helpless under the pounding beat of sexual hunger.