Dane Vanderale was of course with him, as were Dog, Loki, Mutt and another Coyote she’d only seen a few times who answered to Mongrel.
Pulling the Jeep to a hard stop mere feet from the arrogant commander who of course refused to so much as step back an inch, she watched his eyes, intent, somber as he met her gaze through the windshield.
The others showed varying degrees of surprise, with the exception of Dane, who just laughed.
Slamming out of the vehicle, she stalked around the front of it to confront the Breed determined to drive her insane.
“You are behind this.” She shoved her finger imperiously at his broad chest. “And don’t even bother denying it. I know you’re behind it.”
She was almost shaking with anger and she was damned if she could even explain why the match had been struck to her temper. She just knew it was his damned fault. She just knew she needed someplace to expend that anger before it destroyed her.
...
“Dog, Dane, find someplace to be,” Rule ordered quietly as he saw the Jeep bearing down on them and glimpsed the set expression of the young woman at the wheel.
“Sure, Breaker,” Dane drawled. “Tell me, should we worry about your safety or her virtue?”
“Go,” he growled as the Jeep slammed to a stop within feet of him and she exited it like a whirlwind of fury.
Of pain.
Words wouldn’t have struck at him nearly as deep as the agony rolling off her in waves and the sense that the tears trapped inside her were slowly drowning her.
He was only barely aware of the others moving for their vehicles as a slender finger poked toward him and jade green eyes darkened as she fought to find an outlet for the clawing, agonizing pain tearing at her.
“So what vile deed am I behind, Gypsy?” He frowned down at her, sensing that the gentleness that softened his heart to her would be instantly rejected.
No, she needed a fight. She needed to lash out and she needed to be held. But she would be damned before she would ask anyone to hold her.
“That crazy offer Jonas gave my parents.” She was shaking with the anger, the pain. “Image consulting?” she sneered. “For what? You’re masters of building your own image. Breeds were created for it. Master manipulators and scheming, calculating . . .”
He acted before she could say something that would only hurt her more once the pain tearing at her eased.
Reaching out quickly, gripping the hair at the back of her neck and pulling her head back, he covered her lips with his as a growl burst from his chest.
She was killing him with the hurt raging at her tender soul. She was breaking his heart with the scent of her loneliness, her utter desolate hunger and the unmistakable desire to just be held.
His Gypsy would never accept being just held, though.
But she did take his kiss.
Her arms latched around his neck. With a shattered groan her head tilted to the side as his lips slanted across hers. His tongue sank inside the hot silken depths of her mouth as she met it immediately with her own. Rubbed against it. Licked at him and tasted him as he tasted her.
Pain was replaced by pleasure and hunger in the space of a heartbeat. Her pleasure. His greedy demand. And God knew he was starved for her. So fucking hungry for her kiss, for the taste of her that it was killing him.
The skimpy little cami tank she wore and too-short cutoff jeans were little protection against his touch, against his intent.
His tongue played with hers, challenging her with little flicks against it. Nipping her lips if she tried to draw back, he picked her up easily, turned her and stepped to the opened back passenger door of the Dragoon.
Laying her back across the wide bench seat, he jerked the hem of her shirt to the full, lace-covered mounds of her breasts as he moved over her.
A flick of his fingers released the little front catch, spilling the lush curves to his waiting hand. Bracing a knee between her thighs to hold himself over her, as pleasure tore past their control.
He’d be damned if he could bear the pain she’d arrived with. Replacing it with hunger, with need, even if he knew her ire would be sorely raised later, was much preferable.
Much more enjoyable.
Moving his lips from hers, his kisses sliding to her neck, teeth raking against her flesh, a growl escaped him. A sweet feminine presence he hadn’t known he’d opened himself to was suddenly within his senses. Her pleasure became a part of him.
Hell, this hadn’t happened before. Her needs echoed through his mind as the impression of his lips against her nipples, his teeth nipping, pulling at them, his tongue stroking them sent a wave of heat ripping through his mind.
Lust clawed at him. His lips moved to her breasts. He was more than happy to fulfill that little need of hers. But as his lips covered a stiff, pointed little nipple and sucked it into his mouth, he became immersed in the needs clashing through her.
How had he ever enjoyed sex without this? Without the impression of his lover’s pleasure rocking his senses and amplifying his own sensations? It was so damned hot he was ready to come in his fucking pants.
His cock was stiffer than it had ever been, the engorged head pulsing, throbbing desperately. He gripped her nipple with his teeth, tugged at it and felt the echo of sensation lashing with brutal ecstasy at her delicate body.
Her hips lifted again, the heat of her pussy, the delicate scent of it driving spikes of hunger through his senses rubbed at his denim-covered cock.
She needed. Needed his hunger, needed his touch.
Sliding his hand down her stomach, her rising anticipation struck at his mind.
A fierce groan, part growl, erupted from him as he sucked her nipple into his mouth again while jerking the snaps of her cutoffs free and pushing his fingers beneath the material.
Heat poured from her. Her juices were saturating her panties, then saturating his fingers as he slid them into the swollen folds.
Slick, thick, moisture prepared her for him.
The scent of her tempted him, the heated sweet juices making his mouth water for the taste of her.
Drawing back, he stared back down at her, seeing her closed eyes, the mask of complete, absorbed hunger on her face.
“Look at me,” he rasped, the hunger tearing at him, straining his tenuous control.
Dark lashes lifted, green eyes stared back at him, dazed from her pleasure as he pulled his fingers from her pussy and brought them to his lips.
...
Gypsy jerked beneath Rule as he brought his fingers to his lips, the hard flesh glistening with the rich layer of her juices a second before he began sucking the taste of her from them.
Then his hips lowered to hers, the hard wedge of his cock driving into the vee of her thighs again as he pulled his fingers from his mouth and lowered his head.
“I could fuck you here.” The primal, graveled tone of his voice had her pussy clenching, more of her juices spilling from her vagina at the very thought of this powerful, erotic male doing just that. “I could strip that excuse for clothes from you and have you screaming with your orgasm within seconds.”
She gripped his waist, her head tilting back, her hips rocking against his as he ground his cock against her.
“Is this what you want, Gypsy? Here? Now? Should I take all that sweet innocence in the backseat of a fucking war machine?”
“Shut up,” she cried out desperately, her fingers suddenly curling into fists at the reminder that she was still innocent. Still a virgin. At the memory of why she’d never allowed herself to take a lover.
“Is this what you want?” he repeated, a hard hand gripping her ass and jerking her into the press of his erection between her thighs. “Tell me now. I’m two seconds from jerking those shorts from your body and giving you exactly what we’re both dying for.”