Page 8 of Mated

Her words make me swell with protectiveness and more than a little arousal. She’s going to be mine. Mine entirely. Mine forever. She’s a virgin. My virgin mate.

Lust charges through me, but I restrain myself. I cannot hurt her. If this is her first time, then I want it to be perfect. She deserves better than to be mated in my office. She deserves champagne, roses, courtship. She deserves a four-poster bed and silk sheets. She deserves everything I can give her and more. But what’s started between us is not going to stop for any of that.

I am an animal, and one way or another, I am going to fuck her like one.

I clasp her face in my hands, looking down at her. She has dark eyes, full of emotion. I see lust there, but there’s more than that. There’s fear. There’s need. There’s something like shyness. And there’s a little beast that has never come out before. I am going to bring the animal out in this curvy young woman. She doesn’t know who or what she is yet, but I will show her.

“I’m going to be careful with you,” I say softly. “But this is going to hurt.”

She draws in a gasping little breath. “Does it have to?”

“In time, you’ll come to adore it,” I promise her, tilting her head forward so I can press a kiss to her forehead.

Kira

He says it is going to hurt, and I feel a pang of fear and a little thrill of something else. I have never had sex with anybody before. I have never wanted sex this badly before. I’ve felt little flutters of arousal, but nothing like this full body demand.

He could do absolutely anything to me, and I would let him. I trust him, though we are strangers. He’s been gruff and he’s been stern. He’s tried to fire me. If I had any sense, I would turn and run from this room. I know I won’t be the same once he is done with me.

There’s something in his eyes. They’re so pale and piercing. They look right through me and find something inside of me. I can’t look away from him. I feel as though I am being transformed in some inexplicable and indescribable way, and he’s barely touched me yet.

He kisses me again, driving all thoughts from my head. He is such a good kisser, he’s making me feel almost as though I could come out of my skin. I need him inside me. I am soaked. My clothing suddenly feels like a terrible barrier between me and what matters, an irritating collection of fabric that should never have been on my body at all.

He tends to the problem without my needing to say it, pulling open my blouse. Cheap buttons give way and scatter across his carpet, revealing my bra, which is too tight and rough againstmy nipples. They are hard as hell, responding to his touch as he drags the palms of his hands lightly over my breasts.

“One second,” he says, leaving me for a moment. He strides over and locks his office door. He doesn’t close the blinds, though. The city is laid out beneath us as he comes back to me, puts his hands on my hips, and slides the zipper of my skirt down. He lets it fall down my legs, leaving me in my underwear. I wish I’d picked out a nicer bra and panties, but I don’t think he cares what I’m wearing, and soon, I don’t care either as he lets out a growl and picks me up by the ass, lifting me onto his desk.

He grips my underwear in his fists and snaps the elastic, tearing it from my body, leaving my dripping pussy exposed. I watch, shocked, as he drops to his knees in front of me, his head between my thighs. I feel hot breath on my lips as he takes my scent in, before those kisses that were for my mouth are pressed to my lower lips.

He pleasures me with an agile tongue that seems so much longer and so much hotter than it should be. I feel him playing along the folds of my pussy, exploring me with an almost reverent manner. It’s like he wants to know every part of me. Taste every part of me. He pushes his tongue up inside me, and I feel myself spreading for him just a little. He finds my innocence with the tip of his tongue and swirls it there, keeping me in place with two strong hands locked on my hips as I start to squirm.

My clit feels as though it is about to explode. He’s not touching it. He dances the tip of his tongue around the outside of it once or twice, but he doesn’t give me the satisfaction of direct pleasure. He’s artful in his lovemaking. He doesn’t need to drive me to distraction this way. I was already more aroused than I have ever been. But he does it anyway. He is winding me up into a state where anything could happen to me and I’d beg for more of it.

“Please…” I start to beg.

He looks up, a broad, sexy grin on his face. It completely transforms him. There’s not a remnant of the mean boss who was firing me a few minutes ago. This Cain is different.

“What do you want?”

I squirm as much as I can, feeling his hands clamp down around my hips. He’s not going to let me move. He’s going to keep me in place and he’s going to make me answer the question.

“You,” I moan. I don’t know how to ask for more than that. I don’t know what I want. All I know is that I need him to be inside me.

He makes a little chuckling sound that borders on a growl. He has to hold me quite tightly now to keep me still because I am trying desperately to reach some kind of satisfaction.

“I need you,” I repeat.

He stands up, leaving me bereft of his mouth and my pleasure. Sitting on his desk, I am still shorter than him. As he rises, I am forced to look up at him, tilting my head back to meet his flinty gaze.

Cain holds my chin with his thumb and forefinger before kissing me again. There’s a tenderness and a hunger. I can feel him holding back. There’s a tension in his body, and an intensity in his eyes. He’s trying to go slow, but there’s nothing in me that wants this slow.

He starts undoing his cufflinks. Holy fuck, he wears cufflinks. Why is that suddenly so sexy? Why is absolutely everything about him so fucking attractive? Even the hair on the back of his wrist that is exposed as he removes them and drops them ontoa tray on the desk is hot. Fuck me. Even the tray on the desk is hot. So organized. So controlled. I’m not used to people like him. People who live like this, with trays for things. Yes, he’s a billionaire, and that’s different enough from what I’m used to, but it’s not the gross wealth that impresses me. It’s these little things. The crispness of his shirt, the way he…

Oh my god. He’s unbuttoning the front of his shirt now. Little by little, his chest is coming into view. He has a thick dark pelt of hair, but I can see the muscularity underneath it. He is hard. Every part of him is toned and fit. He must work out a lot. He’s giving meWolverine. He’s giving meWitcherin the bathtub. He’s giving me every hot guy I’ve ever seen all wrapped up in one. There’s something superhuman about his physique and his presence. As he comes into view, bare chest, hard torso… his hands go to his pants, and that’s when all thought leaves my mind.

His cock springs out. Long. Hard. Real.

I’ve seen men’s parts before, of course. In videos and such. Or when young men came running by, flashing as they jumped into the local swimming hole. None of those brief flashes or image representations prepared me for the reality of a rampantly aroused male member belonging to a man like this.

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