Opening her eyes, her gaze moved, mesmerized, to where he was working the hard stalk of his cock inside her body. The dark flesh, heavily veined and throbbing, shimmered with her juices as he pulled back.
Penetrating again, moving in further with the next thrust, he parted the folds, spreading her, finding nerve endings she was certain she hadn’t felt the times he had used the condom.
He seemed harder, thicker, hotter. Almost bruising in its power and hardness, the engorged shaft forged inside as he straddled the lounge chair, his hands gripping her hips, her thighs lying over his, hips arched.
Her cunt still flexed and gripped in echoes of the orgasm she had barely survived and still, she could feel it building again. It was rising inside her with each thrust, with each burning, stretching penetration until with a final, hard stroke he was buried to the hilt.
Kita lifted her gaze.
He was throbbing inside her, so thick, so heavy she felt overfilled, overly possessed. Her inner flesh flexed and spasmed around the intruder, stroking it, milking it as she fought to catch her breath.
“When it happens,” he said, his voice guttural, “when I come, love, don’t be frightened.” His chest was moving with harsh breaths, the effort to maintain his control obvious.
Kita shook her head. She had no idea what he was talking about. She had no intention of being frightened.
“Fuck me, Creed,” she finally gasped when he didn’t move. “Don’t talk me to death.”
His lashes drifted over his gaze for a moment. When they opened, his eyes had a dark, hungry look. Like a predator with its prey, determined now to enjoy every moment with it.
“Fuck you?” He moved back slow and easy as her back arched, her hands jerking from the cushion above her to latch on to the wrists holding her hips. “Oh, Kita, I’ve dreamed of showing you exactly how I can fuck you.”
The next hard, blinding thrust set the pace. Her cries filled the sheltered deck and yard as her body strained at the hard slamming thrusts. The rasp of his cock over the nerve-laden inner flesh was agony and ecstasy.
She was being thrown into a world of pure sensation, and there was no escaping. She could feel every minute nerve ending as his cock burned across her inner flesh in a long, fierce stroke. Shafting inside her with powerful thrusts, he gripped her hips, holding her in place, forcing her to endure the brutal pleasure of it.
Her pussy gripped him, milked him. As each sensation tore across the other, she finally felt herself exploding, melting around him even as her cunt locked down on his shuttling cock and her release began to spill around the heavy length screwing inside her, making her wonder if she would ever recover her sanity.
Then, oh God. Her eyes jerked open as she felt it.
In that final thrust, he buried deep, gave a harsh groan, and she felt the heavy length of an added erection suddenly emerging from his cock, pressing inside her, fluttering with firm little strokes against that secret, hidden bundle of nerves just beneath her clit.
She died in his arms. There was no chance for fear to emerge. There was room for nothing but a rapture that stole each particle of her sanity and left her arched tight, her body straining, her gaze locked on his face.
His features were savage, a grimace of male ecstasy. His head was thrown back, his corded neck, his straining biceps, his abdomen flexing spasmodically as she felt each eruption of his semen blasting inside her. Branding her. Searing that delicate, so sensitive little area and sending her into another convulsive, shuddering orgasm that strung her tight, left her gasping and shuddering before she collapsed against the cushions as Creed came over her.
With small, furious beats, his cock went on releasing inside her as the hardened little extension continued to stimulate that aching bud, drawing sensation, forcing tiny explosions of pleasure through her even when she knew she was too exhausted to give more.
Until finally, Creed collapsed on top of her, sweating, his body heaving for breath. Limp with exhaustion, he managed to pull them both to their sides while remaining locked inside her.
Not that he had a choice, she realized distantly. He was literally locked inside her, the animalistic feline barb continuing to throb and jerk at intervals, drawing shattered cries from her lips.
Long, long minutes later, it finally began to ease, and at last, after what felt like eons, the searing little pulses of the extension stopped, allowing her body to settle into a satiation she knew couldn’t be entirely natural.
Physically, emotionally, for the first time in her life, Kita felt at peace.
NINE
How much time had passed, Creed wasn’t certain. His first indication of danger, though, was the hollow vibration of the small satellite flip phone he carried in the front pocket of his jeans.
He was moving immediately. Pulling himself from his exhausted mate, he jerked his jeans to his hips and gave a quick jerk to the zipper before quickly wrapping the blanket over Kita’s body. Her eyes jerked open in surprise.
“Creed?”
There was fear in her eyes; he saw it. But after that first shocked exclamation of his name, she was moving. Even before he could help her from the chaise, she was on her feet and rather than asking questions, following him quickly into the house.
“We have trouble,” he growled as he pulled her into the bedroom. “Hurry and dress. Jeans and sneakers.” He was throwing jeans, a T-shirt, and a warm sweater from the closet as she pulled panties and socks from a dresser.
She didn’t bother searching for a bra, he noticed. It wasn’t required to survive.
She was dressed as he finished locating the small black leather weapons bag he had hidden in the back of her closet. Jerking it open, he quickly strapped on a handgun at his side and ankle, then within seconds had the powerful automatic rifle he carried with him, assembled and ready to fire.
Who the hell thought they could sneak up on him like this? In broad daylight?
It was either a moron or a man or Breed who thought he was better, smarter, and brighter than a lion Breed covert enforcer.
There was no mistaking the alarm still vibrating at his waist, though, a clear indication that someone was coming into the rear of the property Kita owned.
Another enforcer would have recognized the signs as well as the electronic traps laid and announced his presence. Jonas already suspected Kita was Creed’s mate; he’d surely know better than to try such a stunt. Especially on Creed.
After pulling on a lightweight advanced-design jacket, Creed grabbed the extra one he carried with him and threw it to Kita with an order to put it on. He then slung the heavy leather pack of ammo over his back and the strap of the weapon over his shoulder.
Taking her hand as she jerked the jacket on, he was moving through the house toward the front door, his senses on alert, screaming in warning.
Behind him, he could sense Kita’s fear, but overlaying it was the scent of her determination and her trust.
“Who knew you were here?” It was a question he should have asked days ago, damn it.
“No one. I just ran. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”
Moving quickly through the silent kitchen, he threw open the door to the garage and pulled her inside. The motorcycle was their best bet, not as protected as a vehicle, but . . .
He came to a hard stop.
They were there. Their scents were neutralized, blocked, expressions hard, eyes flat and filled with danger. And standing behind them was the specter of death that had haunted the Breeds for as long as they could remember.
“Uncle Phillip?” Uncertainty and rising fear filled Kita’s voice as she stared at the much, much younger version of the uncle she had known.