“Enticing the Stranger”, Resurrection Series Book 3– Dee Tenorio
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They shuffled forward, her hands and cheek pressed to the wall before she’d even finished gasping. Firm fingers closed over the slight mounds of her breasts, plucking at her nipples while pulling her back against his long frame. Her hips he kept pinned to the wall, his erection grinding against her ass. But the best part, the part that made her shudder in his possessive hold, was the feel of his open mouth on her throat. His fangs teased her skin, pressing but not breaking the skin. Finding the indentations of a thousand claimings. His mark. His mate…
She reveled, almost drunkenly, in the familiarity. He knows me. He knows me again…
“I’m going to fuck you right here,” he rumbled, already tugging on the top button of her pants. The fabric tore instead, not that either of them cared. Especially not when her own hand reached between them to grasp his cock through the denim of his jeans, the thickness of him making her mouth water. He growled, a sound that went straight to her core, adding to the aching emptiness. “Here, then again and again, every way I can, until we can’t move anymore.”
“God, yes.” She turned her head for him, seeking his kiss. A kiss he gave, wet and hot, broken by their panted breaths and desperate movements to get the fabric out of their way. More tearing, ripping really, and her pants were in shreds at her feet, but she was free. His hands gripped her hips, tilting her ass up, curving her body for the taking.
She held her breath, that brief second of anticipation almost as excruciating as it was thrilling. Then she felt him, the searing heat as the rounded head stroked the seam of her sex. Her legs shook, a strangled moan unable to pass her lips because she was biting them so hard. One of his hands left her hip, dragging up her body in a rough but soothing stroke. It finally landed on the back of her neck, his fingers slipping around to hold her throat again. Commanding her compliance. Owning her, as only a mate could.
She stared at him, the cat in her responding to his dominance with a warning growl, her claws digging into the wood of the cabin wall with a splintering sound. But she didn’t use them on him. She accepted his hold, arching herself deeper. Offering him everything.
Take me, she willed, watching his face for some sign that the man she loved could sense what she was giving him. That he would finally feel what she’d never been able to offer before. All I am, all I’ve ever been. I’ll give it all, just don’t leave me again…
He stared back, his expression unreadable, especially in these deep shadows. Only his eyes, the green-gold color glinting at her, gave her any clue at his thoughts. She couldn’t feel him, not as she once did, the bond between them still broken. But she could see his pleasure. His need. A need she shared.
She softened, melting to the wall, waiting for him to bring them back together.
Jackson’s lips parted, the white of his teeth gleaming triumphantly in the dark. His dark head bowed, his long black curls touching her shoulder as he watched himself enter her. Slowly, making her quake from head to toe, he slipped into her wet sheath, not stopping until he was fully embedded.
He crowded against her, his chest to her back, not moving. Was he savoring the feel of her around him, the way she dared not breathe because she was lost in the feel of him inside? Emotions swirled within her, warring with the fire licking at her blood. So full, so overwhelmed. She closed her eyes, trying to find her center. Some way to hold on.
“Look at me.”
Her lashes lifted at his command, finding him staring at her with all the passion she remembered.
“No looking away. You stay with me, Betha.” His anger washed over her like pain. Pain he likely felt, searching for a connection that wasn’t there anymore. They’d have to forge a new one and she knew he wouldn’t allow anything to stop him from making it happen. Not even her, if she chose to fight him.
“I’m always with you, Jackson.” It was a truth she’d learned in the most agonizing of ways. “Always.”
His eyes widened, flickering again, but before she could question it, he took her mouth once more and began to move. She cried out again, but he swallowed the sound, continuing the hard thrusts of his hips. And oh god, she’d never felt anything better. Smoothly driving through her folds, he forced pleasure to crash through her. All the while, they stared into each other’s eyes. Man to woman, shifter to shifter.
Harder, deeper, he pounded into her with fast strokes that should have hurt, but pain never registered. Only the tightening coil of raw gratification. Their bodies grew slick, sliding against one another, taking on a rhythm that was as much their nature as breathing. She rolled against him as she had countless times before, giving him back what he gave her, until his own clawed hand found hers, his fingers fitting between hers on the wall, both of them digging into the wood.
Drugging pleasure swirled with desperation as they strained. Driving rapidly toward a completion she knew wouldn’t begin to take the edge off. They’d been apart too long. Had taken too much from each other. This fury, this inferno, was only the beginning…
She almost lost sight of him as the force of her orgasm exploded within her, blacking her vision. Her body jerked in his hold, but he refused to let her loose. With a snarl, his fangs found the spot on her neck he’d marked so long ago. She screamed, helpless against a second onslaught of ecstasy, her sex clamping tight as he snarled his own release against her skin.
She finally closed her eyes, panting against the wall, savoring the feel of him embedded inside. Fine muscles continued to flutter around the still hard length of him, each movement feeling like tiny aftershocks. Any of which could be stroked back to a full explosion. Especially since he continued to stroke, gently, as if he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Ride Me Hard – Shari Slade
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Noah squeezes his eyes shut. “I can’t shock you, can I?”
“It’s not all an act—I’m not stupid. You’re a big bad biker. Got it. But I bet you could shock me more if you stopped trying so hard to scare me away.”
“Fine.” He takes a long look at my body, up and down and back up again. A searching gaze that tightens my nipples and raises the blush that had started to recede. Every flick of his eyes feels like a puzzle piece being snapped into place. “Suck me off.”
“What?” I’d expected him to argue with me, to be even bigger and badder, to bang his chest and prove me wrong. Waitressing taught me to read people pretty well, but maybe I’d miscalculated. I roll off him and stand beside the bed.
Ooof. I stumble when his hand snakes between my legs and around my thigh, pinning me before I can’t get more than a step away.
“You heard me. You want me to stop trying to scare you away? Get to work. Put that perceptive little mouth of yours on my cock. I’ve been imagining what it would feel like since you hit your knees outside the diner.”
Somewhere in the back of my brain I know I’m supposed to be a little pissed off, but I’m too busy wondering if he can feel the wetness running down the inside of my thigh and thinking about how fucking hot it sounds. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir. That’s for bankers and businessmen and shit. Boring fucks who wear ties and drive Volvos.” He flicks open the fly of his jeans while he scolds me, and his heavy palm pushing down on my shoulder lets me know I’m obliged to perform from the floor, not the bed.
He stands up, and I keep my eyes trained on the open flap of his pants, the navy cotton underwear peeking out, the erection barely contained by either. “I call everyone sir at work.”
“This ain’t work.”
Well, that settles one thing. I tug the pants down from his hips and suck in a breath. The ink swirling over his hands and arms swirls over his belly too. Every inch of him that I can see is covered. Except the lowest part of his abdomen…and his cock. Thick and blunt and glistening with precum. Oh, that cock could hurt me. It could choke me. It might do both of those things before our time together is over. I squeeze my thighs together at the thought, because damn if that isn’t exactly what I want.
“You’re squirming and licking your lips, Star. Tell me what’s going on in that busy head of yours or get to it.”
The silky skin of his dick is so hot against my palm. I curl my fingers around the base and squeeze once before licking the tip with the flat of my tongue, catching the salty drops beaded there and whisking them away. I lap at the underside, slicking him from the base of his cock to the ridge beneath the head—and look up at him. For approval? For reassurance? For instruction? I don’t know. For something.
His eyes are shuttered, offering me absolutely nothing. So I push. I tell him what I’m thinking between lazy licks. “Your cock’s gonna hurt me. That’s what I was thinking.”
“No, sweetheart. I’m going to hurt you. And you like that, don’t you? Shit. I tried to hold back, but you just won’t let me, will you?” He wraps my hair in his hand and pushes me down.
I open my mouth instinctively, taking the hot length of him between my lips. This is what I want. This invasion.
“I’m going to get so deep inside you—your mouth, your pussy, your mind.” He rocks his hips, nudging his cock deeper still.
I try to take it, but no amount of slow deep breathing can stop the reflex that makes my throat spasm and my shoulders hitch. He grunts, tightening his fingers in my hair, and I know he likes that too. Likes me on my knees, choking for him. Likes me whimpering. He pumps faster, and my eyes water. Fuck, he’s big. I try to pull back, to shorten the strokes a little, but his hand is on the back of my head, pulling my hair, urging me to take more. To take everything he gives me. Forcing me.
My clit throbs. I slip a hand between my legs, and he grunts his approval.
“That’s it, baby. Get yourself off while I fuck your face.”
My body answers with an orgasm that breaks like the tide, an angry wave against a rocky shore. Hard and fast. Inevitable. I shudder, but my cries are trapped at the back of my throat, muffled against his cock.
I’m coming. I’m coming so hard. All over my hand, on the floor in front of him. I feel ruined and perfect. Powerful, desperate and spent. I feel everything at once.
He jerks free of my mouth and pumps himself, painting hot come across my neck and breasts. Just like he promised earlier. I’m going to come all over them.
He swirls a finger in the mess he’s made—a quick flourish that could be a figure eight even if it does feel like a heart—and swipes it over my bottom lip. “When I’m through with you, I promise you’re going to ache for days and there won’t be an inch of you left that isn’t mine.”
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