Mine to Possess

CHAPTER 33

He didn’t just touch her breast. He held with bold possessiveness. Squeezed there, too. And she decided to obey his order. Dropping her arms, she tugged off her shirt. It stuck at her elbows. Clay took full advantage, wrapping the material in his free hand and using it as a binding to keep her hands behind her back.

“I don’t like being restrained,” she complained.

He squeezed her breast again, then cut through the straps and the middle section of her bra with a single sharp claw, retracted a second later. “Can’t I even pet you in peace?”

Then her bra was gone and Clay was looking at her, his hand spread big and confident below her breasts. Her heart galloped. With each indrawn breath, it was as if she was pushing up her breasts for his enjoyment. They weren’t huge. Not even close. But right now, they seemed to have taken over her body.

“Apples,” Clay said, his eyes cat-bright.

She had no idea what he was talking about. “Apples?”

“I love apples.” He bent that dark head and closed his teeth around one nipple.

She couldn’t breathe.

Then he flicked his tongue over the flesh and the air rushed out of her in a burst of hunger and need and pleasure. Releasing the nipple, he took her breast in a scorching hot kiss that reduced her to whimpers. Somewhere along the line, she got rid of the shirt and thrust her hands in his hair, wordlessly urging him to give her more.

God, she was being greedy. But he didn’t seem to mind. She promised her half-dazed mind that she’d make it up to him. Right now, she wanted to indulge herself, to let him indulge her.

He pressed a kiss to the heated valley between her breasts and nuzzled his way up her neck. “We should go up to bed.”

She kissed him, unable to resist the temptation of his sensual lips. “Later.”

“Later,” he agreed and pushed her backward.

When her back touched a soft surface, she realized he’d used his foot to drag the other cushion closer. She raised her arms and he came down on top of her, the cushions forming the perfect bed. His hand stroked her from neck down to waist as he claimed her mouth in another ravaging kiss. She had never felt more taken, more possessed. But for the first time, the possession held tenderness. And she knew that what was happening in this makeshift bed with Clay was something new, something indefinably precious.

Under her roaming palms, his muscles moved in a slow symphony that was as seductive as his kiss. Clay was all big shoulders, heavy muscle, and tremendous power. She dug her fingers into him and was fairly sure he barely noticed. “Clay,” she murmured against his mouth, “tell me what you like.”

“Harder,” he said, nibbling at her lower lip. “I’m not soft like you.”

She caressed him with firmer strokes and was gratified to hear his breath catch. But he didn’t give her long to enjoy that, dipping his head and suckling at her neck in a way that she knew was going to leave a mark. “So good.” She shuddered.

His response was to bring up one of his hands and stroke her breasts with heavy boldness. No flirtatious passes for Clay. He petted and teased with the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted, what his woman wanted.

“Mine,” he said, pressing a kiss to the skin he’d sucked.

And she knew she’d been marked. “Ditto. I don’t share.” She had always been unreasonably possessive of him. If he had so much as smiled at another girl, she’d sulked for days.

He raised his head. “Neither do I.” Their eyes met in a collision of pure fire.

This, she realized, was it. Either she kept protecting herself or she upheld her vow to love him without fear. Put that way, it wasn’t a choice at all. So she gathered up her courage and did something agonizingly, blindingly hard for a woman who had learned to distrust early and never quite forgotten the lesson. She ripped open her heart and took the final step across that glass bridge. “It was you. Always. Only ever you.” At that instant, she felt something wrench and re-form deep inside of her, almost as if her soul itself changed shape, then the odd feeling passed and she found herself face-to-face with the predator that lived inside Clay.

His intent expression hadn’t changed, but his eyes were those of the leopard who was as much a part of him as his human skin. “This, too?” He growled and she felt the roughness of it scrape over her skin in a caress that was at once frightening and mind-blowingly erotic.

Blood flowed to low, heated places. “I’m not afraid of you.” Never again would she fear him. “Sometimes, I’m afraid of what I feel for you”—and the cost the emotional connection would demand from him if this damn disease took her—“but I’m not afraid of you hurting me.”

He kissed her again, an unflinching male brand that left her gasping. “Took you long enough.”

She bit him for that remark, a sharp closing of teeth on one shoulder. It was over before she’d stopped to think about it. When he growled this time, she felt the rumble of it vibrate against her breasts. Then he bit her. The second his teeth closed over the peak of her breast, she felt her thighs attempt to clench. If he hadn’t been between them, she would’ve been squeezing them tight in an effort to quench the liquid fire threatening to burn her up.

Teasing her by rocking his erection against her, he bit her again. Mercy! When he did it to her other breast, she decided she’d have to provoke him more often. Pushing her hands into his hair, she tugged. “Too much.” Too much pleasure, too much exquisite sexual heat.

He said something against her breast and the sensation made her skin feel as if it was stretching ever tauter, as if her breasts were swelling to please this sexy changeling who seemed determined to enslave her. His hair was heavy silk under her hand, his jaw rough with stubble. She wanted to stroke every inch of him.

When he shifted his lower body, she locked her legs around him, holding his strength to her, luxuriating in the knowledge that while she might not control it, or him—nor would she want to—it was completely at her disposal.

Finally releasing her needy flesh, he kissed his way freckle by freckle down to the curved plane of her abdomen. When he looked up, the erotic beauty of him stole her breath. “You taste good. Pretty freckles.” He flicked out his tongue as if tasting one. “Mmm.”

“You’re making me crazy.” He was so honest in his blunt male appreciation of her body. “I thought you said you had no patience.”

“I don’t. You’re just hot for me.”

She grinned through the crimson veil of desire. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Smug, very male, very Clay. But only for her.

Pursing her lips, she blew him a kiss. “Yeah.”

Her agreement had him prowling up her body to give her a slow, sensual kiss that made her moan into his mouth. The feel of his chest hair against the damp tips of her breasts simply added to the overload. She rubbed against him as she’d imagined, inciting him, pleasing them both. His hands slipped under her bottom. “Off.”

She was too busy kissing him to listen. He used his teeth on her lower lip. She used hers on his. It was a very sensual fight but he won—because she wanted to be skin to skin, too. All over. Unlocking her legs from his back, she lifted up her bottom and let him undo and peel off her jeans. He threw them aside and ran his finger along the lace edges of her panties.

“Pink?” A row of kisses along the waistband.

She swallowed at the image of those wicked male lips so close to the most private, most delicate part of her body. “I like pink.”

Spreading her legs, he licked along the inner-thigh edges. Her hands gripped at the cushion as her body bucked with a twisting pleasure she’d never before felt. Then he licked the other side. And that pleasure roared through her like a fever. But through it all, she was aware of him, holding her, touching her, caressing her.

When the room stopped spinning, she lifted up her head then dropped it back down. “Oh, man.” She had known that being with Clay would be good, that it would eclipse the other times into nothingness, but this was beyond good, beyond anything. All she could think was—no wonder women liked sex. But of course, this was nothing so simple as sex. This was…“Oh, man.”

Clay chuckled. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

“Uh-huh.” Her brain was mush.

“In that case, I’ll talk.” He placed a kiss on her inner thighs, one for each side, then ran his claws very carefully along her hip. “Snap.” The right side of her panties fell away. “Snap.” So did the left.

That quickly, she was naked and he was between her thighs, so close his breath whispered over her intimate flesh. Her body was suddenly a tight fist, expectant, waiting. It scared her a little, how deeply he touched her, how easily he’d stripped her of her barriers, but she had made a promise and she would keep it. Talin McKade was no coward—she was strong enough to dance with a leopard. “Clay?” she said when he didn’t make a sound.

“I like pink, too,” he said, his expression wholly masculine.

“You’re making me blush.” It felt as if he was touching her with his eyes.

“Mmm.” An utterly sexual, utterly content sound.

She felt every sense in her bow in surrender. Sure the wetness between her thighs must be embarrassing by now, she clenched her body in a futile effort to control her need. Clay’s fingers spread her open again and she felt the impact of that touch to her toes. She dug them into the cushions, but Clay had other ideas. Lifting one leg at a time, he put both over his shoulders—after pressing nibbling kisses along the inner thighs.

“You,” she managed to say hoarsely, “are a very bad kitty cat.” That made him laugh, his breath stroking her exposed folds. She moaned, anticipation racing along her skin, burning with hot, sweet hunger.

“Meow.” His tongue flicked over her parted flesh. “I love cream, too.”

Anticipation turned into the most extreme pleasure. Again, she dug her fingers into the fabric of the cushion, but it was no use. There was no way she could control this. Not when he was licking at her with those quick, catlike flicks that were driving her certifiably insane. “Harder,” she found herself whispering, shocked at her own daring.

“Not yet.” Another flick. Another moan. “I want to make you a little crazier first.”

“Bully.” It was a gasp.

“Brat.”

That clever, clever tongue was doing things to her she had never believed possible. She found herself pressing closer, begging him with her body, her thighs tight around him, her heels digging into his back. Then he bit her.

She made a sharp, shocked sound before the world exploded around her. The pleasure was so raw, so rich, so acute, it blasted through her body with the strength of a supernova, leaving her quivering in its wake. If she could’ve found the willpower to speak, the brain cells to construct thought, she would’ve told Clay he was a god. It was a good thing she was too wiped out or he would have never let her forget it.

His hands slid under her bottom, fondling and squeezing as he continued to lap at her. She was fairly certain that that last incredible orgasm had wiped her out, but it felt so nice she didn’t ask him to stop. A minute later, it felt better than nice. It felt exquisite. She heard a low, husky moan and it took her several seconds to realize the unashamedly sensual sound had come from her own throat. “I am so greedy.”

He looked up, eyes glittering with arousal. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping score.”

The eye contact was exhilarating, rocking her to the soul. “Do I get to lick you?”

His hands tightened convulsively on her flesh, his expression promising retaliation. “Do you want to?”

It was an act she’d never willingly performed. But there was a deep curiosity in her about the taste of this man who made her feel like the sexiest thing on this planet. “Maybe.” She stretched, ran her tongue along her upper lip. “Depends how far in debt I am.”

Her provocation had the desired effect. His head dipped and he wasn’t lapping now. He was kissing her in earnest, destroying any puny defenses she might’ve had.

She got into a lot more debt before he was finished.

“Embarrassing and undignified?” he asked as he kissed his way up her trembling body.

Her face flushed at the reminder of how she’d once described the luscious thing he had just done to her. “I think it’s growing on me.”

“Good. Because I like the taste of you.” His voice was rough.

She glanced down his body, saw the arousal shoving at his jeans. “Take them off.” Her hands went to the waistband and she found the first button already undone.

“Careful,” he whispered in her ear as she began to lower the zipper. It caught on something. “Jesus, Tally.”

She kissed his chest. “It’s only your underwear. Don’t be a baby.” A second later, the zipper was undone and she was sliding her hand into that underwear and finding him, hot, hard, and oh-so-aroused.

He seemed to stop breathing as she closed her hand into a small fist. “You’re so big.” He would fill her up, take her over.

“Remember that,” he groaned. “And tell everyone you know.”

It made her want to laugh, except that her body was starving of this hunger that had been a lifetime in the making and all she wanted was to see him. She released him, to the accompaniment of his complaining groan. “Take off your clothes.” She began to push at his jeans, exposing the erotic line of his hip bones.

He kissed her before rising in a smooth catlike move and disposing of his clothing in what amounted to seconds. Then he was coming down on her again and in the light, his body was pure male animal, his skin molding to muscle, his body heavy with arousal.

He settled between her thighs, making room for himself by spreading her legs wider. She cooperated. But she wasn’t ready to surrender yet. Not giving him warning, she slid her hand between their bodies and gripped him once more. He groaned, his back arching, the tendons on his neck standing out in vivid relief.

Raising her head, she kissed him at the base of his neck before lying back down, her hand fisted around him. He shuddered, dropped his head. “You can play later.”

She ran her fisted hand up and down the straining length of him, pushing her own arousal to the limit even as she pushed him. To her delight, he didn’t rush her, though his eyes warned that she was about to push him too far. It only made her hotter. To be in bed with a man she trusted this much was a revelation. “I adore you.”

He groaned. “Tally.”

Her hunger spiked and when he tugged off her hand, she didn’t fight him. He was nudging at her a second later. She gripped his shoulders, drew the scent of him into her lungs, and waited. He nudged the tip of his erection into her and every nerve in her body went haywire. He was so hard, she was buttery soft. It was perfect—if he’d move. She tried to rock forward but he held her in place.

She was about to tell him this was no time to tease when she realized he was trying to find control. He was much bigger, far stronger than her. But she didn’t want him in control. And she trusted him with every cell in her body, her surrender to him absolute.

“Clay, I swear to God, if you don’t bury yourself in me right now, I’m going to reach down and bring myself to—” Her throat froze up as he pushed himself into her in a single thrust. He was stretching her apart, killing her with pleasure. Parts of her body that had never before been touched were being touched and she wanted to beg for more. Because this was Clay, she did. “Move,” she said, voice husky. “Please move.”

He nuzzled at her throat, caught her lips in a kiss. “Ready?”

She looked into his eyes and nodded. “Ready.”

The last thing she remembered thinking was that she had never seen a more beautiful man in her life. A moment later, pleasure crashed through her like thunder and Clay became her world, her universe, her reason for being.

Sometime during the night, Clay had carried her upstairs and to bed. Talin wasn’t sure how—she had vague memories of being tossed over his shoulder, his hand on her upturned bottom. But really, she didn’t care. Because when she woke, it was to find her face snuggled against Clay’s chest, his thigh between hers.

Smile wide, she pressed a kiss to the skin below her lips. He did that purring thing again. “My kitty,” she teased, stroking her fingers over the silky heat of him.

Grumbling, he squeezed the thigh he’d pulled over his hip. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s daytime,” she pointed out, able to tell from the light seeping in through the windows.

“Too early.” Then he pretended to snore.

She kissed him again and laid her head against his chest. His heart beat strong and steady, anchoring her. “What will we do today?” Her laughter faded.

“Get one step closer to finding your Jon.” He pushed his hand into her hair, cupped the back of her head. “Have faith.”

“I do. I just…I wish I could swoop in and save him like a hero out of some comic book.”

“You are his hero, Tally. You made sure he wasn’t forgotten.”

“You know, when I thought I might have a lot of Psy blood, I was angry. I like being human.” The genetic link had threatened her identity, the one thing no one had ever been able to steal from her. “But at the same time, I can’t help but wonder if I could’ve done more to save the children if I had had Psy gifts or changeling strength.” Surrounded by the extraordinary power of both races, it was difficult not to feel weak.

“Don’t.” Clay’s voice was firm. “You’re you because you’re human. I like you.”

She rolled her eyes even as her lips threatened to curve. “I like you, too, even if you’re only half human,” she teased. “But sometimes, being only human—”

“Be quiet and listen,” he ordered in that dominant tone that intrigued her even as it infuriated. “Do you know about the eighteenth century’s Territorial Wars?”