Conner's cock was thick and long and his invasion would, even with her slick welcome, stretch her tight channel impossibly. She hadn't been with anyone else in all that time, and he knew it would be uncomfortable for her. He wanted to go carefully, make certain she experienced pleasure, not pain. His breath hissed out in a long rush, his teeth coming together as the scorching heat gripped him, consumed him, took him nearly beyond his control.
Her small, sobbing pleas only added fuel to the fire. He could feel tongues of flames licking up his legs to burn his balls and settle like a conflagration in his groin. She was searing him, velvet soft, hotter than hell, so tight she gripped him like a vise. He growled a command, incapable of speaking lucidly, but it didn't matter. She knew what to do, he'd made certain of that. He'd never understood men who didn't talk with their woman about the intensity of pleasure between a man and a woman. He believed in finding out everything he could about his mate, what pleased her, what turned her into a sobbing, pleading lover willing to give him the same careful consideration.
She began to move, a slow, delicious ride he felt all the way from the top of his skull to his toes. Every movement sent electrical impulses rocketing through him. He was desperate for her. In her innocence, she had no idea what she did to him. Her body fit his perfectly. Her breasts were beautiful, brushing his chest with each bucking motion of her hips. Her silken hair seared his skin. He fought to calm his racing heart and stay in control, but her body just grew hotter and tighter with each stroke.
He felt her wince as he fully seated her, piercing her cervix. He murmured softly to her, waiting for her body to grow used to accommodating his. All the while, he kept his teeth pressed tightly together, breathing through the brutal pleasure. "You good?" The words came out harsher than he intended, but she didn't seem to mind, tossing her head and nodding emphatically.
He bent his knees and drove upward, his soft growl a dark, dangerous sound that silenced the cicadas closest to them. She sobbed out her pleasure. The angle he had, with her thigh draped over his arm, allowed him to create friction along her most sensitive spot. He bent his head to the temptation of her throat and gave a series of erotic licks, his teeth scraping back and forth, taking several hungry bites.
He pounded into her melting heat, needing her shudders, her little breathless cries. He had to find a way to hold her to him through the coming storm. He was desperate to tie her irrevocably to him. He wanted her orgasm to be the best she'd ever had, wanted her to associate all that mind-numbing ecstasy with him alone. He couldn't ever lose her again. He wouldn't survive it, and the coming days would test the strength of what they had together.
He was relentless, driving deeper and deeper, even when he felt her body clasp his in a viselike grip. He kept surging into her, over and over, burying himself in paradise, while lightning forked over his skin and rockets exploded in his skull. Her sheath pulsed around him and her muscles clamped down again. "Don't, honey. Don't move." His voice was more of a hiss than an actual command. He was certain he was half insane with sheer pleasure.
Her body melted around his, the inferno growing impossibly hotter as he plunged again and again, until he felt every nerve ending he had center in his cock. She stiffened. Her eyes went wide. There was a hint of fear mixed with anticipation. Her eyes went opaque and she dug her nails into his shoulder.
"Conner?" Her voice was soft. Shaky.
He loved her like that, looking at him with that sultry mixture of innocent and siren. Her body rode his, hot liquid bathing him with each thrust of his body. He felt her body gathering, spiraling, the erotic tightening causing the exquisite friction to heighten.
"Close baby, hang on."
She shook her head frantically as her body coiled tighter, the tension building until she feared she couldn't stand it. There seemed no release from the terrible coiling heat always building. His shaft slammed into her, driving deep, pushing her up, higher and higher until she was nearly sobbing, half in fear, half in erotic frenzy.
"That's it, honey, let go. Fly for me. Right now. With me," he commanded and deliberately bent his head and bit down gently, that soft junction just between her throat and shoulder. It wasn't where his cat preferred, but it was what her cat liked and he knew she would subconsciously obey, setting her body free to experience the shattering series of orgasms.
He felt her body clamp down, the velvet sheath spasming, rippling, then gripping and milking. He threw back his head and roared his own release. Around them the insects and frogs ceased their nightly chorus and gave them the floor, the sound of their voices rising in lust and love, mingling together to form a deep harmony.
He buried his face in her neck and held her in his arms, absorbing the form and shape of her, the miracle of her. It had been so long since he'd held her, loved her, taken all that she was and given her everything he was. "I missed you." It was a ridiculous declaration. "Missed her" didn't begin to cover at all how he felt. He'd been alone no matter where he was, how many others surrounded him. He could barely breathe without her. But that would be even sillier for him to say.
He trailed kisses along her vulnerable throat, all the while listening to her heartbeat, that racing rhythm so satisfactory to him. She was soft and pliant in his arms, her body melting into his. Joined as they were, he could feel every aftershock and the continual grip and release of her muscles around his shaft. He waited until the shudders had calmed and her breath was nearly under control before he gently pulled away from her encompassing heat and allowed her legs to drop to the ground.
Isabeau swayed in his arms and buried her face against his chest. "It's not supposed to be like that. I lose myself in you."
"That makes two of us," he whispered, his teeth tugging at her earlobe. He loved the way she looked after sex, the slight sheen to her skin, her limp sated body, the glazed look in her eyes. Her mouth was swollen from his kisses and her body was flushed and marked by his. He bent his head to the mark between her shoulder and neck and pressed kisses there until he felt her shiver. "We need to go. We're close to our destination, Isabeau. A safe place to spend the night."
She lifted her head and blinked at him. "I can hear the sound of water."
"We're going to a waterfall I know of. We need to finish up here, honey," he prompted.
Isabeau smiled up at him even as she slid down to her knees, her arms using his stronger body for support. The pads of her fingers traced over his flat, hard stomach, along the rigid, defined muscles there and then slid around to his buttocks, massaging as she drew him into her. She looked intensely beautiful, her hair disheveled, spilling around her angelic face, her lashes veiling her eyes, and her hands sweeping up his thighs. Just looking at her with the mist rising around her, caressing her breasts and narrow waist, made him semi-hard all over again.
Her mouth was warm and moist, a heated bath of intense love, her tongue like a cat's velvet rasp as she licked and sucked gently, removing their combined scents, paying special attention to the underside of the broad mushroom head and lapping at the base of his shaft and finally his sac. She always took her time, no matter the situation, no matter where they were. She always shattered him with the way she made him feel so loved as if this small task was the most important thing she could do and she loved and enjoyed doing it for him.
And that always made him as hard as a rock, all over again. Very gently he drew her to her feet, his gaze holding hers captive. As she held him. Not with her body or fantasy mouth. Not even with mind-blowing sex. With this--moments like this one. He took her mouth with his, reveling in the taste of the two of them, that explosive mixture of sin and sex and love and lust. She made him soft inside, and he knew he wanted her in his life for always.
"We're just getting started, Isabeau," he warned, his eyes going antique gold and dark, his lust not nearly sated. "I'm going to keep you up all night."
Isabeau shivered at the look in his eyes. She'd seen it before and when he said he'd keep her up all night, she knew he
meant it. He could be brutally attentive, driving her beyond all thought until she was helpless in his arms, unable to do anything but exactly what he wanted. She'd never known anyone could feel the way he made her feel. And she was just discovering her own power. Who would ever have thought she could make a man like Conner Vega shudder and moan, his golden eyes going dark with hunger?
"I'll go anywhere with you, Conner. Lead on." She reached for her clothes.
Conner took them from her hands and stuffed them in his backpack. "I want to look at you." He ran the pad of his finger down the slope of her breast, watching her reaction. When she shivered and her nipples beaded, he smiled, leaned forward and flicked each one with his tongue. "I've been dreaming about the taste of you. I want to eat you like you are candy, Isabeau. For hours. Just lay you out like a feast and consume you."
He was quite capable of carrying out his threat too. She knew him and his appetites. Already his shaft was hard and thick, lying against his muscled stomach like a hungry beast just waiting. She reached out with caressing fingers and danced them over him before cupping his balls. He never moved. Never pulled away. Just watched her touch him possessively. Her treasure. Hers alone.
"How is it that the leopard people can survive in the rain forest when other large predators are so rare?" she asked as she reluctantly allowed her fingers to slip away and she took a step in the direction he'd indicated. "Tell me about them."
He shrugged into his backpack and then took her hand, carrying it to his chest as they walked. Like all leopards, he was comfortable with his nudity, especially in the rain forest. It was natural to him, but not to Isabeau. He could sense her discomfort, but for him, she did it without protest. She'd questioned him when he wanted her to do something she was afraid of, or something that embarrassed her, but she'd never said no without trying it first. He'd been so careful of her trust--because all along with her he'd been lying. It astonished and humbled him that she could give him that kind of trust again.
"We don't hunt the animals the way other predators need to do. We might hunt to learn the skills, but we don't kill our prey. We watch over the other animals. To sustain a large predator, you need an abundance of animals for them to eat." He indicated the forest floor. "We're in a section of thick vegetation where other animals can live, but as a rule, the floor is bare because the sunlight can't penetrate enough for other things to grow. Carnivores just have far fewer food resources here than herbivores."
"That makes sense."
The sound of water grew louder as the trail narrowed and began to slope upward. The vines and flowers were thicker along the tree trunks, the leaves broader and wilder with so much water available. Many plants had taken root on the trunks themselves, never actually touching the ground and living in the wide branches entirely. The roots of the strangler fig trees looked like great forests themselves, twisted cages for creatures to hide within. In the darkness she could hear continual rustling in the canopy overhead and in the leaves on the forest floor.
Her nudity made her feel vulnerable, although she had to admit, there was something very sensuous and erotic about walking completely naked in a rain forest at night with a man like Conner. He had a way of protecting her as they moved through the brush, so that even leaves never actually touched her skin. His hand did often. He brushed his fingers down her spine, sending awareness shivering down her back. As they walked he casually slid his hand over her bottom possessively, keeping her very aware of him.
The waterfall came into sight as they rounded a bend, and she stopped abruptly just to stare at it. She'd always loved the majesty and elegance of waterfalls. This one was much larger than she'd pictured in her mind. It spilled in a narrow ribbon from a rocky ledge above, collecting in a wide pool made of more rock. From there it cascaded in a long veil to a deeper pool below and raced into the river itself.
"It's beautiful."
"Yes, it is," Conner said.
But he was looking at her. Isabeau could see the glittering hunger intensify. They were completely alone in a wild setting. A natural setting for him. And he wasn't tame. She felt the little thrill of fear. She didn't want him tame. She loved the way he made her feel--a little off balance and wholly his. He stepped close to her and his hands caught hers. He brought her palms up under her breasts until the soft weight rested there and she was virtually offering him her body.
His smile was slow. Wicked. Seductive. She craved that look on his face, the hooded eyes, dark gold burning with lust for her. His mouth, so seductive and skilled. His hands, experienced, knowing just what her body needed. And the way he looked at her, as if she belonged to him, as if her body was his and he could do whatever he wanted with her. What he always wanted seemed to be to bring her to screaming, mindless pleasure.
He bent his head and drew one breast into the warmth of his mouth. Instantly her body wept with need. He tugged at the nipple with his teeth and another rush of liquid made her womb spasm and clench in emptiness. He suckled, his mouth growing hot and rough, nearly throwing her into another orgasm right there. He dropped his hand, forcing her to hold her own breast for his assaulting mouth. He slid his palm down her belly to the throbbing mound between her thighs.
Unable to stop herself she moved her hips, seeking more. He removed his hand and continued to suckle at her breast. Tiny bites accompanied the tug of his teeth on her nipple and the soothing laving of his tongue. Heat rushed through her body and then his fingers were back, tracing small circles on her inner thighs, moving upwards toward the heat of her center. His slow pace was torturous given the need building so fast and ferocious in her.
"Please," she whispered before she could stop herself. Her blood pounded in her veins, thundered in her ears and throbbed deep in her sheath.
The fingers traveled through her trimmed wet curls and stroked lightning through the velvet folds. She moaned softly, the sound harmonizing with the symphony of night sounds. She looked at his beloved face, the lines set deep with desire, his pupils nearly gone now as his eyes went all cat. A frisson of delicious fear went down her spine at the look of hunger and determination etched into his face. Two fingers sank into her tight depths and she gasped and bucked against his invading hand.
He switched his attention to her other breast and when she held it for him, his second hand slid to her buttocks and pressed her onto his fingers. "Ride me, honey," he whispered.
What else could she do? Her body temperature was rising out of control and her tight, hot muscles grasped greedily at his fingers. She began to thrust her hips around his hand as he drove his fingers deep inside of her.
Conner's body hardened past the point of sanity. Her soft body was so willing with him. He used his fingers like his cock, thrusting into her, absorbing the feel of her damp heat growing hotter and hotter. Her breath came in ragged gasps and her heart beat out of control. The sensations he was creating were causing her body to coil tighter and tighter, edging her toward release. He wanted her needy. Hungry for him. On the edge. But he didn't want to tip her over.
His teeth tugged at her nipple and he felt the answering spasm in her wet channel. Abruptly he pulled his fingers free. "We're almost there."
She whimpered and dropped her hand between her thighs almost compulsively, but he caught her wrists and pulled her to him.
"Soon. Be patient." He gave her a small smack on her buttocks and nudged her along the trail that led behind the waterfall to the chamber where he had first stashed supplies on his original arrival to the rain forest a week ago, before he'd reported to Rio.
"You started this," she pointed out, trying not to squirm.
"And I'll finish it." His gaze darkened more. "I want you wanting me."
"I think that's rather obvious," she said, pouting a little.
He helped her the last few feet across the rocks. They ducked quickly through the outer edges of the spray and made it to the safety of the chamber. It was large and rounded, with smooth stone making up the walls on three sides. Years ea
rlier, when he'd first discovered the secret place, he'd carved a hold in the rock wall for his torch and later a kerosene lantern. The lantern was long gone, but the torch he'd replaced a few days earlier. He lit it so she could really see the interior of the chamber.
Isabeau didn't care where they were, only that they were finally together. She missed his company. She missed his body. And she missed the things he could do to her body. He was watching her through half-closed eyes, his face in the shadows while the light cast a glow around her like a spotlight. She moved, a slow enticement meant to center his attention on her.
"How the hell did I ever make it without you?" he asked. He drew a mat from his backpack and spread it out over the top of what could have been a large sandbar resting on top of the smooth rock.
It was the first time that she'd noticed there was sand. She climbed up on it, standing just at the edge of the mat and curled her toes in the sand. It was incredibly fine. "How did this get here?"
Conner took her hand, drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her. Although she was standing on several inches of sand, she was still shorter than he was. He rubbed his chin on the top of her head. "My mother gave it to me as a gift when I was young. It was my birthday and I thought she'd forgotten. I used to use this as my hiding place." He looked around. "I felt very grown up here and when puberty hit, my fantasy girl was always here to help me out."
Her eyebrow shot up. "Really? What was she like?"
"Quite beautiful, but she never quite measured up in my mind to the real thing." The smile faded from his voice. "I've had a year of bad nights, loneliness and an aching cock, Isabeau. I was lost without you." He pulled back to look at her face. To judge her reaction. He didn't like talking about his feelings, love and lust and anger mixed altogether.
"I know." She rained kisses along his jaw. "I'm here. We're together."
He drew her down slowly, his grip like steel, forcing her to sprawl across the mat. She could feel the tension running through his body, and just like that her body responded with heat. Maybe the fire had never really cooled. His hands stroked every inch of her, as if he was painting her with smooth brushstrokes--or memorizing every inch of her. His inspection was thorough and he took his time. Just when she thought she might start moaning and pleading, with no warning at all he brushed those strong fingers over her wet mound and she cried out with the exquisite pleasure.