Mated To The Devil (4 page)

Oh, how sweet she tasted. But she felt even better. His hands roamed her bare back, her scrap of a shirt disappeared, leaving her skin open for his exploration. And explore it he did, from the slight indent of her spine down to the dimple above her buttocks. She shivered at his caresses, the increasing perfume of her desire spurring him on. He left the divine haven of her mouth to trail soft kisses along her cheek, over to her neck. Under his lips, her pulse fluttered, a rapid beat to match his racing heart. He nipped her skin, a teasing prelude to the mark he’d bestow once he buried his cock inside her, claiming her as his mate. His woman for a lifetime.
Mine for eternity.

Aching for her, his hands left the smooth flesh of her back and moved to her waist, fingers seeking the clasp that held her pants together. A token protest left her, and her hands tugged at his. He ignored them. He could smell what she wanted, and he intended to give it to her. He continued to strip her. She bucked as he ripped open her pants, frustrated when he couldn’t find the catch. Her thrashing excited him. Perhaps she was not as meek as she appeared.
A strong mate is good.

Clasping her hands in his, he used his free arm to circle her waist and lift her just enough that he could nuzzle his face against her breasts. Full and silky, he growled softly as he pulled one of her nipples into his mouth. She cried out, and he sucked harder, feeling the bud tightening. Her body softened as she lost some of her tenseness and arched into his embrace. A grunt of satisfaction escaped him, and he switched breasts, sucking on the pert tip and biting down with enough force to make her moan.

But desire rode him too hard for him to play as long as he wished with her perfect breasts. He lowered her, but still kept her hands clamped above her head even though she no longer struggled. He swayed back and stared at her, his gaze starting at her swollen lips and moving down over her heaving bosom, to her indented waist, rounded belly and . . . He frowned as she thought to thwart his view and tease him by clamping her legs tight. One booted foot was all it took to spread them. He thrust a hand between her legs, cupping her woman’s mound. The heat of it almost scorched him, and the seeping moisture made him salivate.

The heady scent of her arousal wafted up, and Remy felt an overwhelming need for a taste. He let go of her hands and knelt between her legs. His fingers held her thighs apart, and he nuzzled her womanly curls.

“What are you doing?” Her freed hands grasped at his hair, attempting to push him away, to no avail. He pushed his face between her legs and swiped her cleft with his tongue. Her whole body went still, and he licked her again. The fingers grasped his hair tighter, but instead of pushing him away, she drew him nearer as he laved her with decadent delight.

The taste of her in his mouth made his body burn. He wanted to sink into her sweet sex and fuck her while her nails raked down his back. First, though, he wanted to feel her pleasure on his tongue. Feel her channel quivering in release.

His lips tugged at her nub before he lapped it with frantic strokes. Her hips thrust in jerky motions against his face and along with her incoherent mewls told him she fast approached her climax. Faster he worked her, his tongue circling and applying pressure against her clit. He also slid a finger into her moist tightness and groaned against her pussy at the trembling feel of her pelvic muscles straining around his digit. A second finger into her velvety sex and she came, a glorious climax that saw her crying out and her whole body bucking as her channel clamped down on his fingers.

Eager, so eager to feel that moistness around his cock, he stood and unbuckled his pants as he rose. He had a moment to notice her heavy-lidded eyes before he claimed her lips. She opened them wide for his thrusting tongue, her reciprocal embrace clumsy, but fervent.

He wanted more than a kiss. His hard cock nudged at her belly, eager for its turn. With his hands spanning her waist, he hoisted her, bringing her to just the right height to poke his dick at her cleft.

Her pliant body went rigid. Small hands pushed at his shoulders. “No,” she whispered against his mouth, trying to pull away. “I can’t. It’s wr—”

He swallowed her complaint, no longer stupid with bloodlust, but too far gone with arousal to listen. “You belong to me,” he whispered, ignoring his own mind, which screamed at him to stop. He pressed himself between her legs, parting her thighs with his body. She moaned as the tip of him rubbed against her clit.

“Oh, God help me. Why does it have to feel so good?” She leaned her forehead against his, her breathing heavy. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he pressed his cockhead against her wet slit, pushing into her, the moist heat of her channel making his balls tighten.

She moaned as she dug her fingers into his shoulders, the painful pinch of her nails only increasing his ardor. He worked his way into her, the blissful tightness of her sex almost painful. Their lips found each other again for a hungry kiss, and he could contain himself no longer. He thrust hard into her, and her scream vibrated against his mouth as he tore through a barrier, an unexpected one.

A virgin?
Exultation filled him at the evidence his woman had never before been with a man. A possessive and joyful growl escaped him. She belonged to him alone.

He allowed her a moment to adjust to his size before impatience rode him again. He withdrew and pumped himself back in. She mewled, and her channel quivered. Again, he went in and out.

His orgasm hung in reach, but he held back. He wanted her to come again as well, wanted to hear her screaming her pleasure aloud while her pussy milked his cock. He adjusted his grip on her ass cheeks and stepped back from the wall. Leaning a bit back, he used his strength to move her back and forth on his dick as he buried his face in her neck and sucked at her tender flesh. It took several strokes before he heard her breathing quicken, and a trembling invaded her limbs. Her fingers scrabbled at his shoulders, and her legs tightened around his waist. Her pleasure mounted as Remy drove into her faster, his own climax just a few thrusts away. With a strident cry, she shattered first, her pelvic muscles spasming around his dick, fisting him tightly. Remy grunted as his own climax hit and he thrust, balls-deep, as he spilled his seed.

And then he bit her even though a faint voice in his head screamed “No!” He sank his teeth into the soft skin of her neck where the shoulder met it and tasted the tang of her blood. She screamed once, then a second time as his enzymes entered her bloodstream and went to work, changing her. Marking her. Making her his.

She would not become a Lycan like Remy. No female could and Lycan males were born, not created. Nevertheless, after this night she would be more than human:
changed
. Even better, she would be all his.
My female. My mate.

A limpness invaded her body as she lost consciousness, her body’s way of dealing with the rapid reconstruction of her cells. It was just as well because exhaustion suddenly hit him. He retained just enough wits to collapse on his bed, careful to cradle her fall lest he crush her. He snagged a blanket and drew it over them. Then he let sleep take him as he lay spooned around her.

Mine.

Chapter Three

Disorientation made Mina blink when she woke. It took her a moment to realize the warmth cradling her belonged to another body. An almost-naked body. A moan escaped her as memories of the attempted rape followed by Remy’s seduction washed over her. Shame at her actions, and worse, her enjoyment, made tears prick her eyes.

Much as she’d like to claim, even if only in her mind, that Remy had forced her to have sex, she knew she could have fought harder against his alluring touch and not succumbed to the heated pleasure. Yes, he’d ignored her half-hearted pleas to stop, but in truth, she’d hoped he would, enjoying the evoked sensations too much.

I’m going to hell.

In one night, she’d forgotten a lifetime of teachings, a promise made to herself and God to keep herself pure for the man who would one day become her husband. All swept away in one passionate moment.

She wanted to cry, not at her lost innocence, but because even now, her body throbbed in places best unmentioned, she yearned to feel that ecstasy again.

But she’d sinned enough for one night. She squirmed to free herself from his heavy arm. He growled softly and tightened the hug.

She froze. He stopped moving, his breathing even. He still slept. Forget careful, she took a deep breath and rolled out from under his caging arm. She hit the floor with a thump, and she immediately turned to look at Remy. He frowned in his sleep, his hand blindly reaching for her. She cast a glance around and spotted a fallen pillow. She thrust it at him. He hugged it to his chest and stopped moving again.

She let the breath she held out in a silent whoosh. For some reason, she didn’t want him to wake, although had you asked her why, she couldn’t have clearly explained. She did know she needed to flee, though, before he opened those devil eyes again and made her forget who she was. Needed to escape before her body, which throbbed most oddly, succumbed to the pleasurable madness of before.

In the dim glow of the street lights coming through his window, she found her scattered clothing. The slacks were wearable, although the button had disappeared. Her shirt, though, was a write-off. Spotting a dresser, she opened three drawers before she found some T-shirts, too large really for her frame, but still better than her torn top. She put one on and slipped on her shoes, which had survived the debacle.

Dressed, she moved to the door, but then stopped, hesitating. She turned back to the bed and its slumbering occupant. She couldn’t stop herself from going back to stand over Remy, memorizing the details of the man who looked like a seductive angel—
tempting devil
—in sleep.

Seeing him looking so peaceful, so sweet, she could almost forget how he’d seemed more beast than man when he’d sprang into the room, saving her from a sure and violent rape. Noting the long lashes that brushed his cheeks in repose, she could almost forget how his eyes glowed eerily and his voice rumbled with animalistic growls.

As she took her leave, his visage forever imprinted on her mind—the man who took her virginity on a wave of pleasure she’d never imagined—she wondered if he’d ever take the time to think back on the night he’d seduced her. Probably not. She suffered no illusion that she was probably just another conquest, one more than likely already forgotten.

But I will never forget you. My first.
First lover. First major sin. She was so going to hell.

She closed the door softly behind her as she snuck out, thankful the corridor remained empty. She slid down the stairs, where the music still played if several decibels lower. She’d no sooner hit the bottom step than her arm was grabbed roughly.

“There you are,” Sheila exclaimed. “For a girl who wanted to leave so desperately, you sure hid damned well.”

“And looks like she ended up having fun after all,” Barb added with a smirk.

Could they tell what she’d done? See the sin marring her skin and soul? “Can we just go?” Mina asked, ducking her head as the shame at their knowing looks lit up her cheeks.

“So who was it? Bobby or Jimmy?”

“Or both?” Barb added with a titter.

They’d expected her to sleep with those creeps? The usually passive Mina felt a quick flare of anger. How she hated them in that moment, but she still needed them to get home. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Barb and Sheila made a few more attempts to draw her out, but Mina ignored them and pretended to sleep in the backseat as they returned to her aunt’s house. She had nothing to say to the girls. Because of them and their machinations, she’d lost her innocence that night in more ways than one. Fear, passion, and myriad feelings in-between. It felt like she’d lived a lifetime of moments in the span of a few hours. It would take time for her to sort out and come to grips with it all.

She had a moment’s fear when they snuck in to her aunt’s house, a fear that her parents would still be awake and notice her clothing and, worse, ask questions. However, God was finally watching out for her again and she made it to the guest room without mishap.

Panic gripped her slightly when she saw the blood on her thighs as she went to brush her teeth and pee. A frantic scrub of the evidence was all she could manage until the morning when she could slip into a shower. She didn’t know what she’d do about the red mark on her cheek, though. It didn’t look as bad as she feared, but her parents would certainly notice.

As it turned out, the slap on her face was gone by morning, and her parents remained oblivious to the fact Mina had undergone a life change. For a while anyway. Once they did find out that she had sinned and in the most egregious fashion, Mina had more pressing problems to worry about. Much bigger, life-altering problems.

Chapter Four

A pounding headache along with a massive urge to pee woke Remy.

I am never drinking again.

Remy rolled out of bed with a groan. He hit the floor on his knees. Head bent, waiting for the dizziness to pass, he saw a pair of feet clad in black boots.

Not good. He recognized the scuffed leather.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, struggling to return upright and sit on the bed. He missed and hit the floor. How drunk had he gotten the night before? Or, according to the red numbers of his clock, which screamed in bright-red neon six a.m., hours ago. Hazy memories began to flit through his mind, but most important among them, one set of tear-filled blue eyes, eyes that transitioned to passion-glazed. His mind snapped awake.
What have I done?

“About time you woke up,” his father growled. “Just how much alcohol did you imbibe last night for you to lose control like that? For you to still be a wreck this morning?”

The crack of dawn did not constitute morning. “Not now, dad,” Remy groaned. He turned, his head spinning at the unwelcome motion to peruse the bed behind him. Empty.
Uh-oh.
Had he dreamed it? He sniffed, the lingering scent of sex and blood—her maiden blood—made him close his eyes and drop his head in sick horror.
Oh, fuck me. Tell me I didn’t do it. Tell me I didn’t fuck up that bad.