Soul of the Wildcat (9 page)

J
esse raked his fingertips down the length of Dakoda's throat, following with a featherlight caress of his lips. “It's been hell, I know. And if I could wave my hands and make it all go away, I would. If the day had gone right, I wouldn't have walked into the trap, and you guys wouldn't have had to come running to rescue the endangered animal.”

Dakoda fingered the small dimple above the crack of his ass. The feel of his hot, naked body pressed against hers threatened to send her thoughts spinning away. “If it hadn't happened today, it would have happened later. The men we're dealing with don't care about life—
anyone's
life—except their own. None of us stood a chance today. I was pretty sure today would be my day to die.”

Jesse's hand moved lower. His palm settled in the soft hollow between her breasts. “I can feel your heart beating fast,” he said softly. “Are you afraid?”

Dakoda's pulse stalled a second. “Of dying?”

Hand still in place, he gave a tight, quick nod. A single tic moved his jaw. “Yes.”

Drawing in a breath, Dakoda shook her head. “I'm not afraid of dying, as long as it's quick.” A small shiver began to work its way up her spine. The fine hairs on her neck and arms rose. “I mean, Greg went fast…I don't even think his brain had time to register the pain.” Horror began to seep back in, creeping in and twisting her guts. She quickly tamped it down. “He was pretty much dead before he hit the ground. I just knew that shotgun would go off a second time, and I'd be on the ground beside him.”

“That wasn't going to happen,” Jesse whispered softly. “They needed two cougars.”

Dakoda gathered herself. “But I can't shift,” she reminded him. A thought occurred. “Can I?”

A soft laugh escaped him. His hand slid toward her left breast. Using just the tip of his index finger, he drew slow circles around the jutting nipple. “According to Tlvdatsi lore, at the beginning of man's evolution, everyone had the capability to shift.”

Dakoda's breath caught at the delicious sensations his touch elicited. “Really?”

Catching the little peak between thumb and forefinger, Jesse gave her nipple a delicious tug. Each pull of his fingers delivered a torrent of liquid delight straight to her blood. “Yes. But as time and civilization progressed, men's minds began to reject a connection with their animalistic natures. Certain neural pathways needed for shifting atrophied.”

Dakoda wriggled on the flannel blankets beneath her body. On one hand, she wanted more information about the Tlvdatsi and their seemingly magical ability to shift. On the other, she wanted him to shut up and put his mouth into motion in far more pleasurable ways. She decided a compromise was in order.

Hand slipping between their bodies, she curled her fingers around his erection. Long and thickly veined, his penis pulsed against her palm, a steel rod wrapped in soft velvet. To give him back a little of his teasing, she jacked slowly up and down its length. “But your people retained the knowledge of how to keep them open?”

Jesse's breath caught on a moan. “Oh, man…I can barely think when you're touching me that way.”

Another long, slow stroke. “Guess one thing hasn't changed,” she teased. “Give a man a hard-on and he can't put two words together.”

Jesse gritted his teeth. “Isn't that the damn truth?” Hand leaving her breast, he changed his tactic to delving between her legs. His long fingers slipped between the honeyed folds of her labia. A tip dipped into her creamy depth. “And what about you,” he countered with a grin as his finger slipped deeper. “Seems to me you're hot, wet, and very ready.”

His touch effectively derailed the rest of the conversation. “So what are you going to do about it?” she challenged.

For an answer, Jesse rolled on top of her. Arms supporting his weight, he settled the rest of his lean body between her spread legs. “Well,” he said in a lazy drawl. “First I am going to do this.”

He lowered his head, and his mouth closed around the protruding tip of one nipple. Catching it between his teeth, he painted slow circles with his tongue.

Every thought in Dakoda's head scattered. A waterfall of magical sensations flooded her nerves with each delicious caress. “Oh, my,” she moaned.

Jesse breathed an enticing sound, but didn't remove his mouth from her aching nipple. One hand slid up her rib cage to fondle her other breast, stroking and teasing the sensitive areola until she whimpered.

Needing an anchor, Dakoda wrapped her arms around his body. Her palms instinctively settled on the soft curve between his back and buttocks. His hips rolled against her slowly as he suckled and teased, sending her into a frenzy of erotic need. He rubbed against her stomach in a most enticing way. If only he'd go a bit lower, then thrust. Entry would be assured.

The first tight curls of orgasm began to weave around her spine, tying up and then tickling her senses with an invigorating delight.

Responding to the move of his hips, Dakoda attempted to inch up higher. “Damn, Jesse.” His name came out breathy and strangled. “What you're doing is torture of an innocent pussy.”

Muffling his laugh, he cocked a brow. “Innocent pussy?” His hips ground against hers, giving her belly another good long rub of his hungry cock. “Oh, babe. There isn't anything innocent about what you've got between your legs. What you've got there is all sin….”

Dakoda slipped her fingers into the cleft of his rear, inching her way into its warm depth. The tips of her fingers made tentative contact with his tight, puckered anus. She pressed against the tight ring, gently easing just the tip of a finger inside. “Mmm, and heaven is just a sin away.” She pressed farther, working her finger into his wickedly tight channel.

Jesse's cock pulsed against her belly, bigger, harder. Hungrier. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her penetration. “Man, oh man,” he half-hissed, half-groaned. “No one's ever done that before. Keep that up and I'll come right now.”

Dakoda made a circular motion with her finger. “I'd prefer it if you came inside me,” she purred.

Jesse shifted. Lifting his weight just a little, he reached between their bodies. His fingers circled his erection, guiding the broad crown toward her damp slit. “You drive a hell of a hard bargain,” he grated. “I'm going to pound your cunt until you scream.”

Feeling the thick weight of his shaft pressing against her softness, Dakoda lifted her legs, spreading them wide. Knees settling up around his shoulders, she placed her hands on his hips. Glancing through the narrow gap between their bodies, she could watch his body enter hers.

Encouraged by her hold on his hips, Jesse started to enter her. Holding back from a quick, hard thrust, he slowly eased inside her. The silky glide of his organ stretched her rippling sex, penetrating deeper and deeper. His balls, heavy and full, settled against her ass as he slid in to the hilt.

Dakoda wrapped her legs around his waist. Full. She was completely full, every last bit of space crammed with cock. “God,” she breathed. “You're even bigger than before.”

Hands braced on either side of her, Jesse grinned down. “And you're even tighter.” He flexed his hips in a circular, stirring motion. “Damn. There isn't an inch of wiggle room in there. Taking you is like having a virgin…the ultimate pleasure.”

Dakoda laughed softly. “A virgin, I am not.”

Cocking a brow, Jesse pulled out of her. A slow, warm glide of flesh on flesh ensued. He stopped just short of pulling out. “That little move with your finger up my rear gave me my first clue as to the wealth of experience you must have on tap.”

Dakoda's fingers flexed against his hips. “Oh, you have no idea the things I've seen…and done.” She dug her nails in just a little, just enough to give him a taste of her eagerness.

Jesse chuckled softly, a low rich sound emanating up from the depths of his throat. “I hope you might be willing to share some of your, ah, techniques.” Taking his time, he pumped back in. His slide felt wonderfully endless.

The tension of being taken so damn slow and easy was exquisite. From what she'd sampled, Dakoda thought his technique was just fine. Dandy, in fact. Trembling with anticipation, she tightened her grip on his sculpted hips. Her aching nipples brushed his chest each time he made an upward or downward stroke.

Biting back a moan, she tilted back her head so she could look directly into his eyes. “It seems to me that you've got some pretty good ones to fall back on.”

“It's about to get better,” he promised.

Dakoda didn't think it could.

Jesse proved her wrong.

Angling his head to one side, Jesse's mouth settled on hers. Instead of sweeping in and attacking with his tongue, he caught her bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a long, slow suck. His hips picked up a faster rhythm, grinding against hers in a manner that was more of a sensual waltz than a battering-ram assault.

Dakoda tightened her legs around his waist, willing to let him take all control and lead the dance. One thing was for sure: he had all the steps just right. All the bad things about the day began to mercifully fade away as their bodies moved together in perfect synchronicity, beginning an electrifying onslaught of carnal sensation. Lust boiled inside her like a pot left on the stove too long. Everything inside her felt deliciously molten.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any better, or any hotter, Jesse's kiss changed into something more brutal. Hungrier. A small, subtle shift had taken place, one she didn't recognize until it was too late. His mouth suddenly crushed over hers. His tongue pressed for entry, sweeping in with long, stabbing strokes. Cock pulsing inside her, he began to deliver deep, punishing strokes that jarred her bones.

Gentleness was over. It was time to get down to the business of some serious fucking. He delivered thrust after punishing thrust. His balls slapped her against her ass with each bone-jarring, breath-stealing stab.

All Dakoda could do was hang on for the wild ride.

Jesse lifted his head. Wave after wave of hair spilled over his shoulders, a cascade of shiny black silk. Coils of glowing amber writhed in the depth of his gaze, sizzling with feral lust. “You may have had other men,” he growled, at the same time he delivered a vicious downward stab with his cock. “But I'm going to make sure I'm the only one you remember. From now on you belong to me.”

Dakoda half-gasped, half-moaned at the ferociousness in his tone. Cock buried to the hilt, his eyes burned with the heat of the predator. Jesse was no longer a man making love to a woman, but a predatory male on the prowl for a female. The instincts and nature of the cougar lurking inside his soul were driving him to claim and conquer her on the most basic, primal levels. He wasn't just mating to procreate. He was mating to survive.

Jesse's hips became a piston, slamming against her with deep, muscular flexes that drove his shaft as far as physically possible. His body collided with hers, each strike delivering a teeth-clattering jolt.

Pinned under his weight, Dakoda writhed helplessly, overwhelmed by the thrill. At the last moment, she arched up into him, taking a last body-shuddering slam.

Slamming down a final time, Jesse ground his hips against hers. Buried to the balls, his pulsing cock blasted liquid flame, filling her womb with a stream of hot semen.

Dakoda's senses shattered into a billion tiny pieces. Energy rushed through her like a current, far too fast for her brain cells to process all at once. Climax arrived in its wake, an uncontrolled explosion of sensation rushing down an endless tunnel. It felt as if her insides were slowly tying into knots, the searing pleasure as pure and bright as a roll of shiny new copper wiring. Arcs of multicolored lights spiraled behind her eyes, turning her brain into a blobby mass. She felt like she was glowing all over, brighter and hotter than a star gone nova.

Clit singing out in delight, Dakoda threw her head back. A long, ragged squeal of unadulterated joy tore past her lips. As she crested through level upon level of incredible rapture, it occurred to her that having sex with Jesse Clawfoot was going to be a very hard habit to break.

T
he feel of a warm body shifting against hers drew Dakoda from the depths of a slumberous inertia.

She opened her eyes, blinking sleepily at the unfamiliar ceiling overhead. Mind fuzzed with the remnants of strange, disjointed dreams and edged with exhaustion, she stared for a moment without any real focus, close to drifting off into the cocoon of soothing unconsciousness.

Her companion wiggled again, snapping her thoughts back into focus. Images of the last several hours flooded her memory, the previous day's horrifying tragedy merging and mingling with the night's sultry passion.

Dakoda sucked in a little breath. His sleek body radiated with feral heat. She could almost glimpse the raw power of the cougar rippling beneath his glossy skin. Her blood began to simmer. Her body ached for the feel of his naked skin sliding against hers all over again. Jesse made love with a fierceness unmatched by any man she'd ever known before. Sex with him was searing, a plunge into the richer, darker side of desire.

“Jesse…” she murmured. Through the last few hours he'd managed to distract her from the grim reality of their captivity, making love to her shamelessly and without restraint. He'd brought her to orgasm not one, or even two, but three magnificent, mind-blowing times. Every place he'd touched still tingled. Muscles she hadn't used in ages ached pleasantly. It was the first time in her life she'd had such a good night in bed with any man.

Her mouth quirked down. Too damn bad they probably weren't going to get the chance to do it again. Tiny slivers of light were beginning to creep through the narrow gaps in the walls. Dawn was breaking, and the day to come wasn't at all promising.

Barely daring to breathe lest she disturb her companion, Dakoda eased herself up on one elbow. The bunk they lay on was barely wide enough to accommodate one, much less two, bodies. For both to fit comfortably meant Dakoda was practically plastered back against the wall. Jesse Clawfoot lay partially sprawled on top of her. His eyes were closed, and lashes longer than any man had a right to have were spread out just above his finely etched cheekbones. Deep in sleep, his mouth was parted just enough to allow the barest hint of a snore to escape.

Catching him asleep and unaware gave Dakoda the chance to see, really see, him for the first time. When he'd shifted into human form, the shock had made it impossible for her to concentrate on more than what was happening at the moment. Now that she had a minute to herself, she could study him without restraint.

Her searching gaze skimmed over his naked form, visually tracing the lines of his sinewy body; from the hard-packed muscles of his arms, to the ridges of his back, then down his long, endless legs.

A small smile of appreciation parted her lips. He was solidly built. And utterly gorgeous.
A man who can shift into a cougar
.

Though she'd witnessed it with her own eyes, Dakoda still found it almost impossible to wrap her mind around the concept. Even though he'd somewhat explained that the ability to shift was centered in neural pathways modern man no longer had any cognizance or control over, she still found the idea hard to grasp. She supposed the key would be in the idea of mind conquering matter, some sort of psi-kinetic ability clearly dormant in most human beings. The fact the Tlvdatsi had managed to retain and use a knowledge dating back to practically the beginning of mankind was amazing.

Careful not to disturb his rest, Dakoda gently traced the knotty ridge of a scar gashed across his left shoulder. He had a lot of them, some more set into his flesh than others. Crisscrossing his shoulders, back, and thighs, the damage indicated he fought often and viciously.

A small shiver tripped down her spine. As a young male, Jesse was fighting for not only a mate but also territory of his own.

The shiver made another trip.
He said he could smell me
, she thought.
A female in heat
.

One of his kind.

Tlvdatsi.

Was it really possible her unknown father might be Native American in origin? Could she really be carrying some sort of recessive gene that would identify her to others of her kind?

At this point such questions were unanswerable. She could guess, and she could speculate. But she just didn't know for sure. The possibility she'd
ever
know for sure was just as remote. Her mother was long deceased, and her father was listed as unknown on her birth certificate. The world viewed her as just another bastard. Society gave little sympathy to people like her, the children of poor, transient, drug-addled women. Making her way, finding her place, was her own responsibility. The path she chose to travel was one she charted.

Somehow, for some reason known only to fate and the heavens above, Jesse Clawfoot had stepped in to point her in an entirely new direction. The route he guided her toward went against everything she'd ever known or believed about herself—and her soul.

Dakoda already knew she wasn't going down without a fight. A single glance at Jesse's skin reassured her that he didn't just turn tail and run, either. He fought and fought hard. Whatever force or fate had brought them together would now pay hell tearing them apart. Somehow, they'd stay together.

Somehow they'd survive.

She just didn't know how yet.

Yawning deeply, Jesse opened his eyes. “Mmm.” He snuggled closer to Dakoda. “Now this is a hell of a way to wake up, with a naked, warm woman beneath me.”

Dakoda couldn't help smiling. “Don't you mean a squashed woman beneath you?” She wiggled briefly, rolling on her side and repositioning her body to better fit against his in the narrow space. She cocked a leg over his hips to make things a little more comfortable.

One of Jesse's big palms immediately settled on the curve of her rear, bringing her in a little closer. Awakened by the heat of her nearby sex, his flaccid penis stirred with interest. “Now this is something I could take advantage of,” he murmured.

Dakoda trembled. Oh, heavens. There was no doubting the sudden achy warmth spreading between her legs. She wanted him again. The minutes were ticking away until their captors would return, but she didn't care. All she could think about was satisfying the sweet ache in her core one more time.

“So take advantage,” she murmured against his mouth.

Jesse's hand slowly traveled up her side. Slipping between their bodies, he found and stroked one beaded nipple.

Shuddering in lust, Dakoda pressed her hips closer to his. Gloriously erect, the silky crown of his penis rubbed against her creamy sex. All it would take is one push, and he'd be inside.

Realizing her intent, Jesse held off. “Slow,” he murmured, nibbling her bottom lip. His breath was moist, musky, against her needy skin, not at all unappealing. His fingers made a slow circle around her sensitive areola.

Teeth clamping together, Dakoda sucked in a breath. The first pulses of climax were beginning to build all over again. “Please,” she moaned.

Pinching and twisting her swollen nipple, Jesse pumped his hips upward. He eased inside her, just a little. Just enough to give her a taste. “You want it,” he said, not a question but a statement of fact.

Dakoda's hand automatically curled around the curve of his ass cheek. He was taking his own good time, but she wasn't willing to wait. These last precious minutes were too few, and couldn't possibly last much longer.

“Yes,” she breathed back. “I want it all.” Fingers digging into the firm flesh, she urged him deeper.

Tugging on her nipple, Jesse relented. He stabbed his rigid cock upward, hard enough to fully penetrate her sex. His eyes fluttered shut, and a low groan emanated from his throat. “Being inside you feels like warm, wet velvet.”

Shuddering in raw need, Dakoda closed her eyes, prelude to the spinning of a deliciously carnal fantasy.
If only
…

The sudden clatter of rough-edged voices outside shattered the moment. Heavy footsteps drew closer. A curse and grunt accompanied the grating sound made by the plank as it was lifted away from the door.

Desire fled like a rabbit flushed out of the brush by a hound. Bodies immediately breaking apart, both of them struggled to find something to cover themselves with. Dakoda reached for the blanket, flipping it over her nude body. A snarl curled Jesse's lips as he sprang to his feet. The blanket he'd earlier covered himself with lay a few feet away. He barely managed to snag it before the door swung outward on creaky hinges.

The sun beaming in from outside outlined a familiar figure. “Wakey, wakey,” a cornpone-accented voice boomed.

Dakoda's breath hung in her lungs, too heavy to easily expel. Waylon Barnett stood at the threshold. As expected, he wasn't alone. His cousin Rusty, ever the bearer of the big firepower, followed closely behind.

Dakoda's eyes narrowed.
The bastard
. He'd killed Greg without thinking twice or showing an ounce of remorse. The thought of leaping off the bunk and tearing him a new asshole loomed large in the back of her mind.

Too fucking bad she couldn't do it. Given the chance, she would love to kick the living shit out of him and then some. If there was any person who was a true waste of good oxygen walking the face of the planet, Waylon Barnett definitely qualified. He could fall off the edge of the earth, and she wouldn't miss him.

Acutely aware of her state of undress and the lack of weapons to back up her vicious thoughts, Dakota kept her back pressed against the wall. The blanket covering her naked body wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. “We're awake,” she growled back.

A twisted grin crossed Waylon's face as he stepped into the cell. The small, fetid space reeked of sexual musk. “Well, well, it looks like our male is doin' what comes natural with a nice piece of pussy.” A croaky laugh spilled over tobacco-stained lips.

As he wrapped the blanket around his waist, a snarl pressed past Jesse's curled lips, more animalistic than human. “Just what I wanted to see this early in the morning,” he grumbled. “A couple of ass-wipes.”

Waylon Barnett's insane grin didn't waver. “Watch your mouth, mangy Indian,” he countered. “You may be standin' on two legs now, but deep down you ain't nothing more than an animal. Abomination toward God if you ask me.”

“You're the abomination,” Jesse spat back. “Backwoods, inbred cracker.”

Rusty raised his rifle. “Shut the fuck up,” he warned quietly.

Dakoda stiffened. Disaster was just a trigger pull away. “I think you'd better mind your manners,” she said, cocking her head toward the rifle.

The smile on Waylon Barnett's face was snaggled and what few teeth he had left were stained brown. “Manners?” he crowed. “That there thing ain't got no manners. He's just a soulless animal.” He glanced toward Jesse, still standing naked and proud. “You know where you're goin' to end up, Indian? Right back in a cage where your kind belongs.”

Jesse clenched his hands into tight fists. “You wouldn't be talking so big if you didn't have a gun behind you.” He cocked his head, eyeing the poacher. “Seems to me I put a few of those scars on your face, Skeet.” He flexed his fingers. “If I ever get another chance, I'll get your throat.”

Dakoda gritted her teeth. If he was trying to goad them into killing him, he was doing an excellent job. Her heart tripped with slow, thudding beats against her rib cage. She'd already seen her partner blasted to bits in front of her eyes. Seeing Jesse Clawfoot die wasn't exactly high on her list of ways to start the day.

“Jesse, back off,” she warned, her voice rough with anxiety. “Now isn't the time or place.” You had to pick your battles, and this wasn't one they could reasonably win.

Waylon Barnett sneered. “Better listen to that piece of pussy you're fuckin',” he advised.

Jesse shook his head. “Maybe I don't want to listen,” he countered in a voice deadly and low. Arms going stiff beside his body, he lowered his head. Veins suddenly corded around his arms, chest, and legs like thousands of tiny whips. Fur sprouted from his flesh, rippling across his skin the way a tornado whipped across a wheat field. Within seconds the cougar inside him sprang out, ferociously angry and ready to fight.

Before Dakoda could blink twice, the outlaw drew the pistol holstered at his side. Pointing it directly at the cougar's massive head, he expertly thumbed back the trigger. “Just try it, Jesse,” he warned. “Somehow I think that fur coverin' you won't stop a bullet.” An ugly snarl twisted his lips.

Ignoring the threat, Jesse crouched low and snarled back. Ears pinned back against his skull, his tail snapped back and forth. Narrow amber eyes burned like coals in the deepest pit of hell. Feline lips curled back to reveal deadly sharp fangs. Seriously pissed, he was ready to fight.

But it was a battle he had no chance of winning. The only thing he'd accomplish would be a bullet through the head.

Pulse skidding to a stall, Dakoda choked on a gasp. “No, Jesse!” She glared toward the captors. “Now's not the time.”

Backing up his cousin, Rusty raised his shotgun. “Think long and hard, boy.”