Lora Leigh - Primal Kiss

She felt taken, possessed, and still, it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

“Creed,” she gasped his name as she felt the next thrust, powerful and fierce bury the heavy flesh in to the hilt.

Her legs lifted, wrapped around his hips. Her head arched back, grinding into the pillows as her hips lifted, demanding more.

“Yes, Kita,” he groaned. “Press up, baby. Give me that sweet pussy. Every tight inch.”

He was buried until he could go no farther before he pulled back and thrust in again, his hips shifting, plunging as he began to fuck her with hard lunges that sent a cry tearing past her lips.

This was life, and it was living.

The brutal ache building in her vagina had her writhing beneath him, her pussy tightening further, that ache coiling around her clit as she felt her womb tightening, an agony of pleasure beginning to burn, to ignite. The snug walls of her pussy milked the hard flesh thrusting inside her, sucking at him, stroking, drawing him deeper as each thrust became harder, faster, lightning striking over her clit, burying to her womb until it ignited a release that had her screaming his name as rapture began to lance through every nerve ending in her body.

She felt his teeth sink home, the fact that he had broken the skin barely registering as she was swept away by sensations so brilliant, so exquisite there was no thought, no memory, no sense of self.

There was only them. His cock flexing and pulsing inside her as he began to come, the feel of the thick, heated extension protruding from beneath his cock to lock him inside her, to stroke against a hidden bundle of nerves that only had her exploding again, harder, brighter, than ever before.

She was crying his name, strangled sounds that she doubted made sense as she was carried away on a wave of pure, blinding sensation.

She swore she felt not just his body, but something more. She felt him, wrapped around her soul, protecting her, his strength cushioning her heart should she need to find solace.

She felt him holding her inside. Felt him bound to her as she had never been bound to another.

In that moment, Kita felt him become her mate.

“I love you.” Barely coherent, the words were torn from her lips. “Creed, I love you . . .”

And that love was answered.

A whisper at her ear as his teeth lifted from her flesh.

“My soul,” he groaned, shuddering in his release. “Sweet God, Kita, you’re my soul.”

And his lips covered hers again. His tongue took her mouth, his moan fed hers.

A kiss as sweet as it was demanding. As binding as it was primal.

It was the kiss that dreams were made of . . .