Slave to Sensation

Her stomach clenched each time he plucked at the bud he’d sensitized to the extreme. “How can I… take you in my mouth if you don’t?” In the glimmering darkness, the question was an erotic invitation she hadn’t known she had the capacity to make.

He moved and it was so fast she barely caught it. Watching him stand beside the bed stripping off the rest of his clothing was a pleasure all on its own. There was no need for light, not when his skin seemed to shimmer with a fine layer of savage energy to her Psy senses. She was stunned by the dangerous beauty of him. When she sat up, his head whipped to pin her to the spot. “I don’t want you to move.” Alpha to the core, his order was arrogantly assured.

“But I want to move.” To let him have his way at this point would equal disaster later.

He pounced with that stunning speed and she found herself flat on her back with his length pressed along her front. He’d clasped her wrists together and had them pinned above her head before she could gasp in a breath. “Now you’re all mine.” The comment held a hunting cat’s pleasure at cornering his prey.

But this prey had claws. Reaching out with her mind, she wrapped mental hands around the erection that was nudging at her entrance. His body arched as a shout was torn from him. “What are you doing, kitten?”

“Playing,” she said, using his word. The feel of him was everywhere, inside and outside. She wanted to taste him so badly, she ached. “Let me.”

He leaned down and lapped at her nipple through the T-shirt, the gesture so feline that she was shocked into a moan. “I’m not feeling playful.”

“Don’t you want me to…” She used her mental hands to squeeze him tight, to show him what he could have.

He bit the side of her neck hard enough to mark but not hurt. “Stop that.”

“Why?” At that moment it didn’t occur to Sascha that she shouldn’t have been able to connect to him so easily, that he was changeling and she was Psy and no Psy had ever been able to enter a changeling mind without effort. All she knew was that she was burning up for him.

He braced himself on his hands above her, setting her free to grasp the hard length of his erection. He thrust into her hold, head thrown back, the tendons on his neck standing out in sharp relief. Not quite knowing how she knew what to do, she pushed up until she could slide her legs between the vee created by his kneeling thighs.

As he watched to see what she’d do next, she slithered her body down the bed until the hard evidence of his hunger was right above her. Holding onto his hips, she raised her head off the bed and took him inside her mouth.

His growl made every nerve in her body flicker with warning. But she didn’t stop. She had skin privileges and she was going to take every advantage. He tasted better than her dreams, as rich and delectable as the most exquisite chocolate, as exotic as the panther he was.

Her neck was getting tired but she didn’t want to let go. Pulling at his hips, she moved down but he refused to follow, sliding slowly out of her mouth and driving her to the edge of insanity.

Lucas, please. It was a wild plea from her mind to his.

“On the condition that you let me do the same.” His voice was rough, hot, demanding. “No backing away.”

You can do anything you like! she agreed without thought, so drunk on the overload of sensory pleasure that she was his slave.

He purred and did as she’d asked, moving his hips just enough to tease, to tempt. Craving him so badly that she could no longer function on any level but the physical, she sucked hard, squeezing her hands over the taut muscles of his buttocks. He groaned as she used her tongue to stroke the underside of his erection. She knew what he liked, had learned from the dreams that weren’t dreams. Given free rein over his body, she used every skill she had to drive her wild lover to distraction.

“Harder, kitten.” It was a hoarse whisper.

She complied, digging her nails into his flesh. The tiny pleasure-pain made his muscles lock around her. Moaning deep in her throat, she poured everything she had into the loving, licking, sucking, giving.

He came for her in shuddering waves, a wordless growl emanating from his throat.

Maybe ten minutes later, Sascha realized she was still wearing the T-shirt. She tried to extricate herself from Lucas, who had her completely pinned to the bed, but he refused to move. He’d buried his face against her and now he licked out at her pulse, lazily tasting the salt on her.

She bit the side of his neck. “Lucas.”

A low purr vibrated against her breasts, shocking sensation down her aroused body. Every nerve ending quivered in need so deep it hurt.

“I want to take off this T-shirt.” It felt too hot, too confining. Even her panties were too much-she wanted to feel every inch of sweat-slick skin, every stroke of wild sensuality.