A. Arthur - Passion's Prey

Through the lightly steamed glass he could see her silhouette. His body tightened. She lathered the soap in her hands then rubbed those hands up and down her arms. Her long nimble fingers scraped up her neck. She held her head back and let her hands cross her shoulders. When they came down to cover her breasts, X’s breath hitched. She was gorgeous, there was no other accurate way to describe her—even though that seemed kind of cliché.

He took a step closer, his fingers moving quickly to undo his pants. Cursing because his boots were still on, X bent quickly to untie them and kick them off. When he stood again she was facing him, her luminescent eyes staring at him through the glass. Slowly he pulled his shirt over his head, pushed his pants down, and stepped out of them.

She stepped under the showerhead then and let the water sluice over her body, rinsing the soap suds away. Knowledge that he was watching her was alive in her gaze, the fact only making X hunger more. Every inch of his body was taut with need, his dick jutting outward as if it were reaching specifically for her.

When she switched off the water X reached for the door handle. He opened it and she stepped out, coming to stand so close her nipples brushed over his chest, his dick slapping against her stomach. His hands went immediately to her neck, his thumbs rubbing along the line of her jaw.

“You’re such a tease,” he whispered.

She touched a still-wet finger to his bottom lip, rubbing along its contoured edge. “And you can’t resist me” was her soft retort.

Her body was a wanton sex machine, just humming with desire. If he put his hands between her legs at this very moment he’d bet everything he owned that her plump folds would be wet and waiting for him. He could lay her on this floor right now and fuck her brains out and she wouldn’t do a thing to stop him.

Yet her eyes, even alight with her feline heritage, said something just a little contradictory. She was studying him, watching everything he did, hearing every word he said with extra-sensitive ears, dissecting this entire situation with a formula only she was familiar with. What did she want from him? Was this all she expected? He hoped so, because it was all he had to give. Questions assailed him as her finger traced his top lip. He extended his tongue to lick the pad of her finger, and she smiled.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here, Caprise. I’m not who you think I am.”

Her response was to toss her head back and chuckle. He watched long sheets of hair dripping to the floor, flowing behind her. Just as she’d said, he was unable to resist, so X lowered his head and kissed along the exposed line of her neck. When her hands slapped against his shoulders, her long nails scraped along his skin, she whispered in a husky aroused voice, “And you have no idea who I am. That makes us even.”

No, X thought as he pushed her down to the floor so that she was on her knees in front of him, they were not even. She was a well-bred, beautiful woman even if she had denial issues. And he was more dangerous than she knew.

He leaned over her, put his palm to the base of her back, let his fingers trickle down between the crevice of her bottom. He stopped at her anus, felt the tight bud and the persistent jutting of his dick. On a coarse oath, he squelched that thought, figuring she was nowhere near ready for him that way. Using both hands to spread her wider, X thrust his dick inside her ready opening.

Caprise screamed with the stretching of her skin and simultaneously arched her back, pushing back to take even more. This was how she liked it. She wondered how X knew. Soft and slow didn’t work for her, hadn’t in a very long time. Now she craved fast and hard, long deep strokes that she felt throughout her entire body, vicious climaxes that took her breath away. This was what she needed. Especially tonight.

Through the shower door she’d seen him stripping, watching as every inch of his deep brown skin was exposed. That skin was covered with beautiful artwork that she suspected he took time and consideration to select. Every tat would mean something to a man like X, would symbolize some part of his life, some part of the man. After she’d stepped out of the shower the front of his body was even more alluringly visible. Across his chest was a tribal-type tat with its swirling lines coming to a sharp sword-like peak. Lower, on the left side of his abs, was a jaguar, long and sleek, majestic. His biceps sported more tribal insignias that wrapped completely around the width. She’d noticed them specifically because she was into tat work as well. What she hadn’t seen was the emblem of the Topètenia, but she knew it was there; somewhere on his body would be that icon, the human marking that her brother and his two friends had gotten as a symbol of their loyalty to the tribe. A symbol of the animalistic part of themselves—the part Caprise continued to deny.

His body was as gorgeous as she’d imagined each time she saw him. Thick, toned muscles, oozing masculinity and power. He was exactly what she thought he was, despite what he said; she knew this man, had known him for years. He was the one of the three who was least expected to be smart and cunning. While Nick and Rome had achieved good grades and headed straight to college, Xavier had graduated with minimal honors and immediately dedicated his time to the US Marines. Upon his completion of those four grueling years of training—as she remembered him explaining to Nick one night—he’d applied to the FBI. Three years in the field and X was elevated to special agent status. That wasn’t the norm, but then again, neither was X. And it was no mistake that Caprise had paid close attention to him, even then.

As he lowered her all the way to the floor, covering her from behind, something primal was unleashed in her, something as natural as breathing as she arched her back and accepted him inside her. She reared back, her head lifting, mouth opening wide as she screamed his name. Against her bottom lip, sharp incisors pricked and her body sizzled with desire.

On the surface it might seem strange that she was here, in this position, with this man she hadn’t seen in years. But she and X had been making their way to this point for a long time now. She wasn’t surprised, nor was she disappointed. He was an excellent lover, and that’s all she needed.

“Your cat is hungry. She’s been asleep for much too long.”

His voice was deep, as deep as his strokes inside her. She didn’t care much for what he’d said but wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Fuck me!” she ordered instead. If she stayed focused this would go just like before and she would survive again.

Strong hands clasped her hips, holding her while he pounded inside her. She kept her palms flat on the tiled floor, her knees planted firmly, and rotated her bottom to match his strokes. Every brush of his dick made her tremble. There was something on his shaft, she’d felt it when she’d held him in her hands at the club, some sort of barbing or piercing that rubbed along her sensitive skin with precision and pushed her closer and closer to the brink.

Her nails scraped along the tile as her breathing hitched and her breasts slapped together, matching the sounds of their sexes meeting. Their combined scent was heady, and permeated her senses so that when she licked her lips she swore she could taste him; closing her eyes she could see his warrior’s body strong and powerful behind her. He surrounded her, not only because she was in his bathroom but because his aura was that strong, that all-consuming. That was unanticipated.

They reached their climax simultaneously, again. Both of them trembling, taking precious seconds to catch their breaths. Caprise’s heart pounded in her chest, sweat peppering her forehead. She focused on her breathing and growing steady enough to stand and walk away from him. But that wasn’t working out too well.