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Male possession stamped all over his face, Isaiah pitched his hips a little further forward, forcing his cock even deeper. “You can go back to sleep, baby,” he said, his voice low and molten and laced with raw dominance. “Just need to fuck you.”
Oh, like she’d ever manage—or want—to sleep through that.
He pulled back in a slow retreat, rasping his shaft over supersensitive nerve-endings. Then he rammed deep. Again and again he did it—pulled back slow, drove in hard, went balls-deep.
Keeping her legs curled tight around him, Quinley clung to his back. His weight, his heat, the ripple of his muscles, the pressure of such fulness… it all swept her away and rendered her cat a puddle of seduced mush. “Isaiah.”
He took Quinley’s mouth, the kiss reeking of so much sensual finesse it made her toes curl. One lower arm braced on the mattress beside her head, he explored all he could reach of her with his free hand—stroking up her side, plumping her breast, pinching her nipple, giving her throat a little squeeze, diving his fingers into her hair.
His touch inflamed her every nerve-ending and treated her to a hormonal cocktail that made her head go fuzzy. The warm and lazy air ebbed as his thrusts became harder, but he didn’t speed up, leaving her approaching orgasm just out of reach.
A growl poured down her throat just as a thread of greed wove itself into the kiss, ramping it up. He hungrily ate at her mouth like he’d never tasted anything better. The kiss—so hot and deep and urgent—was pure sex magic.
He tore his mouth free. “Before you go to work in the morning, you’re going to suck me off. I want my come in your belly while you’re walking around all day.”
She whimpered. “Faster.”
“Give me your throat.”
Isaiah’s balls tightened as she tipped her head to the side without hesitation. Just the same, a pleased growl came from his cat. That immediate surrender, that demonstration of trust, didn’t just shoot to Isaiah’s cock, it stabbed right into his chest in the best way. The high that her submission gave him wasn’t merely sexual anymore, it warmed his insides.
Nothing had made him feel good about himself in a long time. Not emotionally. Until Quinley.
Possession roaring through him, he zeroed in on her claiming brand. Licked it. Suckled on it. Grazed it with his teeth. Swirled his tongue over it.
All the while, he took her with slow and sure strokes, spurred on by every moan, gasp, whimper; every ripple, flutter, spasm. He blew cool air over the wet brand, and a mini shiver rode her spine.
“You’re torturing me,” she rasped.
“Not torturing you,” he said with a swivel of his hips. “I’m not doing anything to you. None of this is for you. It’s for me.”
He took her that little bit harder, drilling his cock deep. Swear to Christ, nothing had ever felt better. She was so tight and hot and wet and his.
He gripped the skin of her shoulder with his teeth but didn’t bite down—which annoyed his eager-to-mark-her-again cat. A frustrated sound crawled up her throat and she arched, pushing into his teeth.
He didn’t give her what she hinted for. He just kept fucking her slow and steady, keeping her pinned in place with the gentle holding bite. But then she dragged her claws from his nape all the way down his back—breaking skin, drawing blood.
And he lost it.
Isaiah bit down and violently powered into her. He was lost in the heat and tightness of her, the taste and scent of her blood, her breathy cries and gasps and demands for more.
He snarled into her ear. “You belong to me, Quin. Never forget it.”
She came just like that, her pussy contracting around his dick, her mouth open in a silent scream, her claws slicing into his back yet again.
His own release hit him, then. The onslaught of mind-numbing bliss rushed at him at full-force. He exploded with a growl, grinding and flexing his hips, wanting his come as deep as it could go.
He collapsed on top of her, shoving his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shea butter shampoo. The throbbing sting of the rake marks on his nape and back made him feel nothing but pure satisfaction—much as they did his cat. The slices were deep enough that they’d scar. Isaiah fucking loved that.
When he’d finally scrounged up the energy to move, he raised his head. She dazedly blinked up at him, the image of sated. He gave her a soft kiss. “I’d say I’m sorry I woke you, but I’m not.”
She gave a weak shrug. “No apologies necessary,” she all but purred. “I’d say I’m sorry for making you bleed a little, but I’m not.”
Smiling, he pulled out of her. “No apologies necessary.” He retrieved a cloth from the bathroom, cleaned her up, and then tossed the cloth in the hamper. Once he’d righted her tee, he lay beside her again. “Go back to sleep,” he coaxed, dragging the bedcovers over them.
“Will do.” She was out seconds later.
Isaiah carefully drew her to him, keeping her burrowed into his side. Yawning, he closed his eyes. Sleep took him in moments.
