Shadow's Claim

He rubbed his thumbs over them, gave each a light pinch as he watched her reaction.

"Oh, gods." She licked her lips, staring up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. As her irises began to glitter from her passion, she whispered, "Kiss me. Please kiss me."

Anything! He lowered his head, slanting his mouth over hers, relishing her cry. Her red lips were smooth, unimaginably giving. He slipped his tongue between them, and she met him.

As she softly lapped, Trehan's head swam. Her mouth tasted like spiced honey mead.

He kissed her with all the pent-up passion denied him over lifetimes. With each sweep of his tongue, he grazed his straightened forefingers over her ni**les, until she was undulating beneath him.

When he tore his mouth away to run his lips along the slim column of her neck, she breathed, "I've needed this. Needed you." She sounded delighted-and relieved?

He craved relief as well. For now the pressure in his c**k was turning into pain. He rose up on his knees, unbuckling his sword belt, tossing it to the floor.

"You know you can do anything to me," she murmured. "I'm yours-I always will be."

He groaned. Want for nothing? No more. His wanting for this female was primal, undeniable, bordering on . . . savage. He dropped his head to her chest, kissing all around one nipple, tasting her luscious skin.

"Yes!" She sank her nails into his back. "More. Please! P-put your mouth on it."

With a growl, he complied. When he closed his lips over one peak and it puckered to the tip of his tongue, she gasped. When he flicked it, she moaned, "That feels so good."

His new Bride was so responsive, he knew he could make her come just from this. Another night, he would, tormenting her until she begged him for release.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him in place as he began to suck.

Her taste was bliss-her cries, the scent of her dark hair, the way she moaned with each swirl of his tongue.

What a gift he'd been given with this sorceress!

Impulses warred. He wanted to suckle her for hours, to lick her sex and taste the orgasms he'd wrung from her. He wanted her pale hands gripping his cock, her red lips sealing around it as he thrust.

To feed his length inside her . . . inch by throbbing inch.

Haze. Losing control. He snarled against her breast, increasing his suction as he drew his head away. Then to her other nipple. What would it be like to pierce that taut peak with a fang? Blood from the sweetest little font.

Where had that disturbing thought come from? His kind considered biting another to be a savage taboo. Were his fangs beginning to ache? Ignore them.

As he sucked, he palmed her br**sts with greedy hands, possessively clutching her. When her arms fell limp over her head-letting me do as I will-his worry faded. He drew back and gazed at his woman, pride firing inside him.

Panting breaths between plump, red lips. Hips rolling with need. Nipples wet and swollen from my tongue. His heart thundered for her. Forever for her.

She's stunning.

All she needed was his bite, emblazoned on her skin. No, ignore these forbidden thoughts! Think only of mating her. He could scent her desire. She needs to be mated.

With that idea in mind, he snatched off her skirt, leaving her in only her mask, her jewels, and those leather boots.

"Oh! P-please go easy." She swallowed audibly. "This is about as far as I've ever been before."

A virgin! Misgivings arose. How young was she?

Yet she didn't attempt to cover herself. Any lingering doubts dwindled when she gave a needy whimper, spurring him on.

Must prepare her body. A virgin would need extra care. He supposed. Never been with one. He couldn't remember bed play before her, seemed to have forgotten anything he'd learned in his youth.

He dipped one hand, glancing his palm up her supple thigh.

"Yes," she sighed, "oh, yes. You've made me ache here." Her knees fell wide open for him, spreading her slick, blushing folds, and one thought arose: She is o comoara, a treasure. My treasure.

Soon he'd be buried to the hilt inside that lush heat. His c**k pulsed in readiness. Pre-semen beaded the crown, dampening the front of his pants.

Again her fingers skimmed across his waist, back and forth before sliding lower behind the material. Just as he reached between her legs, she worked her hand into his pants.

Her soft palm gripped him; he cupped her hot sex.

He gave a curt, shocked yell, almost coming spontaneously; she moaned with abandon.

Even as he reveled in her wetness, her touch jolted him-nimble fingers clutching at his shaft, gently tugging. The foreign sensation drove his hips forward for more.

He could feel her swollen little clitoris budding beneath the heel of his palm; her dizzying scent made him crazed to taste her there.

Then her hand started to move on him. "It feels so . . . amazing," she said in a tone filled with wonder.

She'd never even touched a c**k before? Amid all the turmoil he felt, tenderness arose for his sweetly innocent mate.

But then she squeezed it, murmuring, "My darling, I need this inside me ever so badly."

Too much! Seed climbed until the pressure grew agonizing. He was about to come, would never last as he sank his length inside her virgin sheath and took her maidenhead.

"Stroke me," he commanded her. He would get this out of the way, then see to her pleasure all night. Claiming her repeatedly.

She hesitated, then tentatively rubbed his shaft from hilt to tip, and again. As he petted her quivering flesh, he grew mindless, unable to stop himself from f**king her hand with short pumps of his hips.