Savage Conquest Page 3

  He collapsed against her, almost crushing her with the weight of his body.

  Slowly, her vision and hearing returned to normal as her ecstasy ebbed.

  Gabrielle lifted her head from the pallet, looking at him in horror as realization at what she had just participated in dawned on her. She pushed at his chest, intent on putting as much distance between them as she could.

  He opened his eyes when he felt her movement. He gave her a dark, possessive look, aggression permeating the sudden tenseness of his muscles.

  With a quickness she had not anticipated, he clamped onto her shoulders in a merciless grip.

  Gabrielle stiffened but did not attempt to break his hold on her.

  “I see that look in your eyes,” he said through gritted teeth.

  When she tried to look away he shook her until she met his intense gaze.

  “You are mine now, and I will not let you go.”

  Chapter Two

  When Gabrielle next awoke it was dark. She could not tell if it was early morning or if the sun was setting. As she awakened further, the details of what had happened the day before came flooding back to her. The memories of the feelings that Wolf’s touch had evoked warmed her cheeks. What was wrong with her? She did not need to be thinking such inappropriate thoughts. She should stop thinking of Wolf and the new exciting sensations his touch had ignited in her. But her mind was a contrary thing, and it returned to Wolf and his experienced mouth, Wolf and his fiery hands, Wolf and the fascinating swelling that branded him as a man.

  What had he done to her? Why did she feel so different, so new, so . . . strange? She needed to get away from him. She needed to get back to town, get back to her sister. But how would she ever return home? She certainly could not manage to get away from the Indians all by herself. Who, then, would save her?

  She was distracted from her thoughts when she realized that she was still naked under the buffalo blanket. Looking around to see if Wolf was gone, she spotted him watching her from across the teepee. She had to get away from him, she had to do something, and she had to do it . . . now.

  Seeing that he had rekindled the fire in the middle of the teepee, she jumped up, pulled a stick from the fire, and held it in front of her, narrowly missing his stomach with the red-hot tip. She had seen that look in his eyes before, and she was going to have no more of that. “Do not come any closer,” she warned as she backed up.

  Standing up and moving closer, Wolf easily knocked the stick out of her hand and then dragged her into his arms. Slowly he fit his mouth to hers, conquering it, plunging his tongue deep inside of her with a method so similar to the one he had used to claim her body the night before. He lowered her to the ground and pinned her arms against her sides as he assaulted the pouty peaks of her nipples with his tongue, circling and teasing them until he had the response he was looking for.

  Wolf left her breasts then, working to gather himself. He slid a wet trail down her trembling ribs to her navel where he hovered, teasing, tantalizing, driving in and out of the shallow indentation with his tongue until her cries and the strangled sound of his own name nearly drove him insane.

  “Hurry, Wolf,” she gasped, her eyelids fluttering, even though they were closed. “Please do not stop now.”

  “I have only begun,” he said, suddenly unsure if it was a promise he could keep.

  A stillness possessed him a long moment, winding the tension within her.

  When he moved down her legs and parted her thighs with rough hands, his fingers slipping on her wet flesh, exposing her intimate folds to his vision, she thought she would die from the ecstatic pulse of desire that seized her insides at the hot rake of his gaze on her woman’s flesh.

  Gabrielle bit her lip to keep from crying out as he held her gaze, dipping his head between her thighs. Her belly jerked on an anticipatory spasm.

  Hot breath scorched her flesh, and then his tongue pierced her wet, swollen folds, moving straight to the nub that had longed for his touch. Gabrielle’s hips jumped off the bed of fur as he stabbed her with the molten tip, flicking it across her to capture cream.

  “It seems you are indeed a woman,” he growled into her slit before swathing his tongue down through her juices.

  Heat suffused her from the inside out, her thighs trembling as he pushed them as far apart as they would go. His hands curled around her buttocks, cupping her. She was his for the taking.

  He nuzzled her mound with his nose, fanning his breath across her folds. “I can and will take you as I please,” he said, his voice rough, thick with lust.

  The rough, possessive timbre of his voice resonated low in her belly. Gabrielle shook her head, closing her eyes, unable to look at his dark head nestled between her thighs. The sight of him there overcame her, heightening the lust that embraced her, saturating her femininity until she thought it would draw all the moisture from her body.

  Wolf tilted her hips up to his lips.

  She felt the soft brush of his lips on her folds, heard his intake of breath as he inhaled her scent.

  He held her still when she would squirm, allowing her to know that he was in absolute control. “Look at me, Gabrielle,” he commanded.

  She obeyed.

  His eyes were dark, smoldering as though a fire had been lit. He wanted her, wanted more. A sharp, desperate spasm of lust arched her insides at his dark look. She wanted to close her thighs, protect herself from the heat of his gaze, the molten swipe of his tongue. He was too much, too intense for her to survive. Looking on him made her womb tremble, that bud throb responding with achy tension.

  “You are mine,” he said.

  His voice was rough, deeper than she had ever before heard it. It vibrated inside her, echoing in the desire gripping her body. Before she could prepare herself, before she could take a breath to utter his name and deny his possession, he dipped his head and plunged his tongue deep in her core. She screamed, throwing her head back and grinding her hips against his face, her sheath gripping his tongue as he curled it inside her, lunging forward, retreating.

  His fingers dug into her buttocks, bringing her closer to his face as he ate her flesh, drank from her body as if he was starving. He devoured her, plunging inside again and again, mimicking the stroke his cock had set inside her until she was mindless with the feel of his molten slide in and out of her.

  He lapped at her, nibbling her folds with his lips, her juices making wet sounds that should have embarrassed her, but his greed for her allowed none to escape, and allowed her no chance to think beyond the pleasure racing inside her veins. He burrowed deep inside her, grinding his chin against the narrow strip between her entrances, rubbing his nose against the swollen bud.

  Surely he would smother or else he would eat her alive. His breath was ragged against her, fanning the desire burgeoning through her core.

  He pulled out suddenly, panting as if from exertion.

  Gabrielle whimpered, opening her eyes to see him watching her.

  Knelt between her splayed legs, he leisurely removed his breech clout.

  Each inch of flesh exposed by his movement sent sharp shafts of desire coursing through her. His skin was naturally dark, almost bronze. The muscles of his stomach jerked with his heaving breath, making her own lungs labor for air.

  He backed away, standing.

  Gabrielle made a small sound of disappointment, propping up on her elbows to look at him.

  His lips curled in a slow, wicked smile, barely traceable, the slightest change in his expression that told her he enjoyed her torment and would prolong it as long as he wished.

  Gabrielle shifted on the buffalo pallet, frowning as she chewed her bottom lip.

  The movement drew his gaze to her mouth. He narrowed his eyes, studying her, holding her gaze. His cock jutted forth, impossibly thick, angrily red and swollen.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him, saw his eyes blaze like the hottest fire, a flame that singed her flesh and burned away her reservations. His
black hair clung to his face and neck, and she itched to run her fingers through it, to have that hair caress her breasts and belly. And that steely rod . . . .

  “You devour me, fiery one,” he growled softly, advancing on her, crawling onto the pallet toward her. Sensual menace oozed from his pores, dripped from his voice. He advanced on her with the leisure of a wolf who had cornered his prey.

  Gabrielle swallowed, backing away, her heart fluttering in her chest like a caged animal. “I do not,” she whispered, her throat constricted with some indefinable emotion. She could not help but glance down at his shaft where it protruded from his groin.

  He caught her line of sight and smiled with pure, male satisfaction, crawling between her raised knees.

  Gabrielle shuddered, wanting to look away but she did not dare close her eyes.

  He crawled over her, closing her in with his body. Leaning over her on his forearms, his hair hanging down, his eyes were unblinking as they consumed her.

  He bent his elbows, sinking inexorably down until his mouth was inches from her own. Shifting his hips, he rubbed the molten tip of his erection against the top of her mound, letting her feel the weight of him.

  “Do you feel how hard I am for you?” he asked, closing the distance between their mouths in a fiery kiss.

  Gabrielle whimpered as he ground his hips against her, up against that white hot center of pleasure that throbbed for want of him. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth, stealing her breath and the essence of her soul in a devouring kiss that threatened to consume her.

  He groaned as she wrapped her arms around him, touching his back, her questing fingers discovering he was more gloriously hard and powerful than she’d ever imagined. His muscles flexed with strength beneath her fingers, responding to her touch. His flanks heaved with breath against her arms as he tore from her mouth and dragged his lips across her jaw.

  Gabrielle gasped, scored by his teeth. She felt free, unbound. A wildness soared inside her.

  His eyes darkened, near black from the shadow of his hair, but no less potent.

  She shivered, meeting his gaze.

  Clutching her tightly, he kissed her once more.

  Gabrielle’s throat tightened, her eyes stinging as he pleasured her mouth, nibbling her lips, her tongue, fueling the bittersweet desire. Her heart seemed to trip over itself, its pace climbing as he smoothed a trail of kisses down the column of her throat to her breasts.

  He nuzzled her breasts, dragging his lips over the tender flesh, swiping his tongue across each nipple in turn.

  With his free hand, he cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers, stoking the blaze consuming her loins. Gabrielle’s whimper of pleasure turned to a cry as he closed his mouth on one bare peak, dragging her flesh into his mouth in a hard, sucking kiss, rubbing his tongue on the delicate nipple until it swelled and hardened in his mouth.

  She dug her nails in his back like talons, crying out as he continued to suckle as though drawing sustenance from her breast. Her back arched, unconsciously thrusting her breasts closer. His lips and teeth, his tongue, were torture, undeniably sweet agony.

  She wanted him to stop, but at the same time she could not bear the thought.

  He broke from her flesh, scoring the underside of her breast with his teeth before moving for her other. He growled, latching on, sucking near to the point of pain.

  Tears squeezed from her eyes. Her woman’s place clenched in agony. Moisture flooded her, soaking her folds, seeking to cool that branding iron that pressed against her mound that offered no relief.

  Gabrielle planted her feet flat on the pallet, arching her back, shifting her hips to raise and grind herself on his rod. His hardness touched her cream laden bud, increasing the swell of it, the pain that gripped her—but what glorious pain it was.

  His mouth stilled. His body went rigid. His breath suddenly panted from him, his chest heaving against her ribs. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his arms.

  Gabrielle bit her lip, lowering her arms until she could reach his bottom. She grasped it, pulling him against her as she arched her hips, seeking that wondrous place yet again, finding it with his heated rod.

  He groaned, long and loud, a mournful sound that erupted from deep inside him. He eased back, breaking her grip, and then she felt the change come over him. His muscles shook with the power of his restraint. A great, hard knob pushed against her woman’s sheath, stretching, tearing her, setting her flesh on fire.

  Gabrielle whimpered, needing his length inside her, knowing that the pain was what she craved . . . and she would have it. She moved her hips, forcing him inside her, gasping as the broad head of his cock distended her opening, moving past the fragile entrance. Her muscles seized on him, closing down, desperate to shut him out.

  He panted, burying his face against her neck, shuddering with the effort to maintain control.

  “Please,” she pleaded, dying as she lay there pinned to the pallet and unable to move as she wanted, the way she needed to. She would perish without him. She had gone too far to stop now. The pain had built inside her until she was near to bursting.

  She dug her fingers into his buttocks, urging him to take her.

  His breathing quickened.

  She could feel the pound of his heart against her chest.

  “Do . . . not . . . move,” he ground out harshly. He dropped on her, melding to her, propping his weight on his elbows on either side of her ribcage.

  Hurt noises whimpered from her throat. She rubbed her legs against his, her calves to his thighs, stimulating her senses, awakening sensation in her lower half. Her entire body seemed sensitized to the slightest touch. She moaned, breathing heavily, locking her legs around his buttocks as she stroked her palms up his back.

  A loud, mournful cry tore from him. He bit her neck, stifling the sound, shaking, breathing hard and fast through his nose. His muscles flexed, tensed as if to hold him back, but he had lost his mind. He had lost all control. He thrust, ramming the broad length of himself inside of her.

  Gabrielle screamed as he sank to the hilt in her sheath. His cock twitched against her inner muscles. The breath had stolen from her lungs at the force of his invasion—she could not breathe for the weight of him, the wound he had struck inside of her.

  Slowly, drawing out her agony, he pulled his shaft from her core, rubbing that impossibly hard, huge knob through her tender tissues until his cock was nearly free, and then he plunged deep once more.

  Gabrielle cried at his gentle push, clenching him, aching as he withdrew, aching as he entered. With each stroke, she thought surely now she would die, but slowly, as he continued subjecting her to the movement she craved, tremors built inside of her. The fire in her muscles ceased to burn with pain, searing instead with an increasing pleasure. It felt like his tongue but harder, more demanding. He was so huge, he filled her near to overflowing.

  Her legs tightened involuntarily, hooking beneath his buttocks, urging him deeper, harder. Pleasure scored her, erupting along her nerves. She moaned as he increased his tempo, gliding through the arousal soaking her folds, searing her from the inside out.

  He sucked her neck hard, branding her with his mouth.

  Gabrielle arched against him, clawing his back, moving her head along the buffalo pallet.

  Pleasure mounted, amplifying from its fragile beginnings into a force that threatened to explode within her, destroy her sanity if she could not reach it. She cried out, arching her head back, gripping his shoulders, her sheath tight on his cock. He pumped into her, groaning, grunting at the vice of her body, the pain she inflicted on him with her sex.

  He kissed the front of her arched neck, holding her closer, tightening his strokes. It was easier now, the pleasure ripe for the plucking. Her womb trembled around him, she panted, gasped, bloodied his back as her orgasm quivered around him. The rhythmic convulsion of her muscles was his undoing. He came inside her, thrusting until he was certain she must tear above the pounding of his cock. Silk
gripped his cock head, sucking the seed from his body.

  He groaned against her neck, gasping, breathing raggedly as the mind numbing pleasure roared through his veins and out through his cock. He rammed inside her until there was nothing left, until she had taken every measure he had to give, and still, he wanted her to have more.

  Never, never could he have enough of her. The thought rent his mind, turning him to madness.

  It was those thoughts that prodded Running Wolf to distance himself from the woman again before he had even caught his breath. He left her among the furs and dressed himself.

  The desire to join her again was no less of a pull when he’d dressed and paused to look down at her face, but he steeled himself against it. “I have things that I must attend to. You will stay here, inside my teepee. You are not to leave the tent, woman. You will come to regret it if you disobey me in this. The other warriors in the village will not be as kind as I have been.”

  He could not see that she was suitably cowed by his warnings. In point of fact, the rosy glow of pleasure he had seen before had given way to a flush of anger, her soft lips had pursed, and her chin was jutting rebelliously by the time he’d finished. He glared at her and had the satisfaction of seeing that the fierce look at least brought a flicker of wariness to her eyes. Realizing that that was likely as close as he would get to exerting his authority, he turned on his heel and stalked from the teepee before she could find words for that sharp tongue of hers.

  Gabrielle glared at the tent flap when Running Wolf had disappeared. It rankled that she couldn’t quite get up the nerve to test his threat, but she decided that it wasn’t so much that he’d cowed her as that her good sense had come to the fore. Settling back among the furs, she decided to rest. As if she hadn’t been exhausted enough from her ordeal in the river, the savage had taken ungentlemanly advantage and she was even more exhausted from that!

  Not but what it hadn’t been nearly as unpleasant as she’d been led to believe it would be.

  Actually, some of it had been surprisingly pleasant—not the first time. Well, not altogether pleasant the first time, but then he’d stolen her maidenhead and that was never pleasant from what she’d heard.