The Magical Christmas Cat

The Magical Christmas Cat Page 49

That I'll let you pet and stroke me and keep the need I have for you under control. What happens when I break? When I take that choice from you?"

And he didn't want to. He wanted to luxuriate in the sensations of her hands on his flesh, touching him, stroking him. If only this.

She stared up at him. "Is it that bad?" Worry filled her eyes and he saw her intentions to draw back, to move from him, to leave him.

"I'll warn you when it gets that bad." Ah hell. He was insane. He had passed that point minutes ago, and he was encouraging her to go further?

"Are you sure?" Hesitation filled her now, and he didn't want her hesitation.

"I'm sure." He was crazy. That was exactly what he was, insane. The need for her touch outweighed everything else and made him insane to think he could control his response.

"I've been dying to touch you," she whispered as he released her hands and reached behind him to the footboard of the bed, gripping the wood tightly with desperate fingers.

He tipped his head back. He wasn't going to watch.

He couldn't watch her.

"Touch me then." He could feel the sweat gathering on his back.

Her touch was like electric pleasure. It shimmered over his flesh, dug talons of exquisite need beneath if, and left him tight, tense, torn between stopping her and begging her for more. He would probably end up begging her for more, that was how damned crazy he was, a true glutton for punishment. Or for pleasure.

"Tell me when it's too much," she whispered.

"Gotcha." He gave her a sharp nod.

Too much had already been done and gone. Too much was the feel of his balls drawn excruciatingly tight and the head of his cock flaring thick and hard, and throbbing like a damned wound.

Too much was when he felt her lips touch his chest and her hot little tongue licking over a spot. That was too damned much.

Haley let her senses become immersed in the need to just touch him. Touching should be okay, she told herself. It wasn't a kiss, at least, not his kiss. It was just his flesh, just those intriguing little spots and the dampness of his flesh as she felt his flesh heat.

It was moving slowly, hesitantly into the desires that had never made sense where he was concerned.

As though without even trying he touched a hidden part of her, drawing it free, and teasing it to be wild with him.

Without saying a word. Without touching her, without tempting her with anything more than a look or the quirk of his lips. He tempted that unknown something inside her.

"I love how you feel." She touched his hard, rippling abs with her hands, smoothed over them to the band of his jeans and back up.

She tasted him. She kissed his chest, licked at several spots, feeling the ultrasoftness of the tiny hairs against her tongue. Then, in a move more daring than she had ever considered, she raked her teeth over the flesh beside a stiff, hard male nipple.

As though she had flayed him with fire he jerked, a hard, primal growl tearing from his chest as his head jerked up, and he stared down at her.

His eyes were like black velvet, studded with even darker glimmer of lights. How could anything be darker than black? But something was, and it flickered in his eyes, the color overtaking the pupil and giving him a primal, primitive look.

As though the animal were so close to the surface that it would be hard to tell where human and jaguar separated. And she was tempting it. She knew she was.

"Is it too much?" She didn't want to torture him.

She just needed to touch him.

"No." The word was short, the rasp in his voice was deep as his hands moved from behind him. "But if you can bite, then I can touch you as well."

She hadn't counted on that. Just as she hadn't counted on the throbbing growl in his voice as he said the words.

"How?" She needed to know. "No kisses."

"No kisses. No little bites." He bared his teeth, and she should have been frightened of those canines, which flashed at the sides of his mouth. Instead, they intrigued her.

How would they feel on her flesh? Raking over it, creating a flash point of pleasure and heat?

She swallowed tightly as he gripped the hem of her shirt.

"Let me take it off."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Is that a good idea?"

"Is any of it?" He tugged the hem upward. "Take it off or walk out of here. I can't stand here and not touch you as well, Haley. That's asking too much."

"No kisses?" She was almost whimpering with the need for his kiss though. Her lips tingled, her tongue ached to twine with his.

"No kisses," he promised.

She lifted her hands from his chest and raised her arms slowly, allowing him to draw the shirt from her.

Sensuality wrapped around them heavily, saturating the air with lust and hunger as he tossed the material aside and stared down at her.

The white lace camisole she wore-in place of a bra adequately covered her, sort of.

"That's cheating." There was no grin, there was only need in his eyes to see her. "Let me take it off, too."

She could feel her nipples rasping against the lace, urging him to do just that. She licked her lips nervously and lifted her arms for him again.

He drew the lace covering from her, the material stroking over her nipples drawing a ragged groan from her. As he tossed the material aside, his hands caught her wrists, holding them over her head as he stared down at her.

"I want to suck your nipples." The blunt, blatant hunger in the words caused her womb to clench in response. Like a punch to her stomach, firing her nerve endings and sending pleasure streaking through her body.

She wanted him to suck her nipples. Her nipples wanted his mouth on them. She ached for it. The flesh between her thighs heated for it. She felt weak, dazed, arousal pouring into every cell and whipping over her nerve endings.

"If I weren't a breed," he told her then, "if I were just a man, I'd lay you down and tempt you with my mouth. I'd suck your pretty nipples until the dark pink blushed a pretty rose. Then I'd go between your thighs and lick the sweetest cream, and know your arousal is just for the pleasure I can give you."

Haley watched the regret that filled him as he stared down at her. He held her wrists easily in one hand. With the other, he cupped the rounded mound of a breast, the tip of a finger stroking over the ultrasensitive, hardened peak.

Haley shuddered. She leaned her head against one of her arms as he held them both over her head and stared up at him.

"I'm going to melt to the floor," she whispered. "We need to stop this."

"I'm still in control," he rasped.

"But maybe I'm not," she gasped.

"I'll keep you in control."

His hand lowered from her breast to the elastic band of her lounging pants.

"Let me." He pushed them over her hips.

Haley stared up at his face. No man had ever stared at her with such need. Even in the height of sex, the few lovers she'd had hadn't looked at her like this.

She trembled as she let him push the loose material over her hips. She watched his face as he stared at the white-lace panties she wore. The French-cut, hip-high panties matched her camisole, and they were damp, wet with her need.

"Ah, Haley." His tone was guttural as she watched in shock as he knelt in front of her.

He had released her hands, but what the hell was she supposed to do with them? The bed. She gripped the footboard as his hands clasped her hips. His face was only inches from her, her flesh covered only by the lace of the panties.

"You don't shave here?" One hand lowered, the backs of his fingers stroking over her mound.

"No." Shock gathered in her voice that he would ask her.

She had tried it, once, and hadn't liked the sensation.

"Good." He crooned, his fingers stroking over her again. "So good. I want to feel your soft curls against my face. Can I do that, Haley? Can I feel your sweet damp curls against my lips? I promise, no tongue."

And she stood there. Stared down at him. And like a woman who enjoyed walking the edge of insanity, she let him draw the panties down her legs.

"You have spots, too." His voice was nearly strangled as he stared at her. And she did have.

Freckles over the tops of her thighs and her hips. Not many, a few here and .there. But enough.

"I want to lick them."

She watched his jaw bunch.

"I want to taste you."

He leaned closer, both hands gripping her hips now as he neared the dark red curls between her thighs. Haley had forgotten how to breathe, she was certain of it. Why else did she feel so light-headed, so dazed? So aroused. It was like a fire burning beneath her flesh now, searing her, destroying her senses.

"Haley," he breathed her name against the damp curls, against the engorged bud of her clit, and she jerked, much as he had when she rasped her teeth over his chest.

She knew that pleasure now. Like a strike of brilliant, white-hot heat tearing through her.

"Haley," he breathed again. "Get the hell out of here."

It took long, disbelieving seconds to understand what he was saying.

"What?"

"Go," he growled, his eyes still on her as he licked his lips, his tongue swiping over them. "Get away from me, Haley."

"Noble."

"I'm going to lick that sweet cream. I'm going to bury my tongue inside your pussy and to hell with your anger or your hatred later. Get the fuck away from me."

She shuddered, shaking with the need she couldn't seem to control. She couldn't move. How the hell was she supposed to get away from him?

"Go!" His voice hardened.

The deliberate control in his movements as he released his hands from her hips was frightening. His expression, his eyes as he stared up at her, sent her stumbling back from him.

There was lust and hunger, then there was the pure, unbridled desperation she saw in his face. He would do it. And he was close, so close.

What had she done to him?

She jerked back farther, bending to snatch her clothes when he crouched over them, his gaze brimming with fiery, intent lust.