The Alpha's Woman Read online

  But this was not that.

  This was quite...uncivilized.

  Primitive in the extreme.

  Animalistic.

  And much less controllable – completely overwhelming and undeniable.

  She had to ball her hands into fists to keep them from plunging beneath her shirt and cupping her own breasts, pinching her nipples the way she knew she wanted him to. Then slipping further down to delve into what she knew would be the wet heat of her desire, horrified at the same time to realize that she could already feel her own juices dripping down the insides of her thighs.

  She shook her head so rapidly that it made her stumble dizzily, hoping to clear it enough to make preparations in case he decided to storm the cave. She should have been scrambling around making things as secure as she could – however pitiful though her attempt might be.

  Instead, she found herself rooted to the spot, head down, gasping for breath, the struggle to tamp down the urge to writhe where she stood taking every bit of her concentration.

  When she'd finally beaten it back some, she lifted her head and looked up again at where he'd been.

  Only he was no longer there.

  She briefly wondered if lack of food and water had caused her to hallucinate, and he was the result, but then she dismissed the thought, knowing that decision, too, could have been because she was losing her mind.

  As she searched for him frantically, while remaining – hopefully – as secluded from his eyes as she could, full blown panic set in at the idea that he was, indeed, a reality. That thought succeeded in doing what she'd been wholly unable to—overwhelming—if just barely, those primitive sexual urges goosing her into nervous action.

  She'd already hidden anything she thought was of value well inside the cave, and what she ended up doing was much less preparing for an attack by him than doing things that would have been more in keeping with the idea that she was cleaning her apartment in anticipation of having a date see it. She straightened her almost bed, folded her clothes and put them neatly in the small bookcase she'd procured, wishing randomly that she had a hairbrush.

  Then she stopped short when she realized where her thoughts were going. This was not a date. It was much more likely to be a very short, ignominious fight to her death, if he was as big up close as he already looked from a considerable distance.

  But her supplies were so meager that there was truly little she could do to prepare herself for him, besides make mental peace with the fact that this was probably going to be how and where she died – at this man's hands.

  She was already wearing the one weapon she owned, such as it was. Her attempts at making more had been pitiful at best, and she had soon abandoned that idea.

  So, she stood in the entrance to the cave and waited for the inevitable. He was on horseback, so she should be able to hear him approaching, she thought.

  But he proved her wrong about that, seconds later, when he swooped down from above and landed dead in front of her, a long, wicked blade in one hand as he assumed a defensive posture.

  For the second time in less than ten minutes, she found herself reeling backwards, away from him, only this time she managed to overbalance herself – partly by looking up – and up – and up some more at him – and was in danger of ending up flat on her backside.

  Quick as a snake, his eyes never leaving hers, he caught her wrist in his free hand and pulled her upright. She would have sworn he was smiling down at her as if she was a brainless dolt, although, staring into those obsidian eyes of his, she realized that she could also have no problems at all believing that he had never smiled – not once – in his life.

  Under normal circumstances, she might have smiled up at him and thanked him for keeping her from falling, but things were far from normal. Instead, she began to struggle to reclaim her hand immediately, her fierce and frantic actions the result of those unwanted feelings she'd only just begun to be able to get under control roaring back to life within her as a direct result of his proximity, to say nothing of his touch.

  He remained rock still as she tugged and pulled and tried to twist her arm from a grip that wasn't painful in the least, but also seemed to be completely unbreakable, even against all of the self-defense tricks her husband had taught her. No matter what she did, he simply stood there like a mountain, staring down at her, never having moved so much as a muscle, despite her efforts.

  And not only was she having to fight him, but also, she was still deep in the midst of that struggle with her baser self.

  She could already tell she wasn't likely to win either altercation.

  Her feeble attempts at breaking his hold quickly dwindled down to what was nothing more than her trembling and occasionally jerking violently as she fought to maintain command of her own body and continue to fight against his hold.

  She'd never felt anything like this, a neediness – a desire – so insidious that it was agony to deny it in any way, that had already worked its way into her brain, shutting down her centers of reason, subduing her intelligence in favor of convincing her to offer herself to the man who stood – unmoving and immovable – in front of her. Until the only thing she could think about was the fact she wanted to strip off her clothes and present herself to him as if she was a bitch in heat, bottom high, head down, legs spread so that she was completely open to him, body weeping copiously for want of him.

  She knew she was moments away from begging him to mount her.

  Nothing else – not finding out what kind of catastrophe had befallen the area, not discovering who he was, not even maintaining the illusion of her own safety and security – mattered to her in the least. She rapidly reduced herself to her lowest common denominator, to her carnal, animal essence.

  As he watched her, his face darkened, then – lightening quick – he gave a small tug on her wrist, which sent her crashing into him. The impact jarred her small body as he strode forward at the same time, plowing her back until she could go no further. Trapped, as she was, between the rock wall of the cave and the rock wall that was him towering over her, reaching out to tear her shirt to shreds with one sharp jerk to lift her into the air by her armpits and hold her there.

  Her bare, seeping crotch dangled inches from his face.

  She could feel the warmth of his breath on the parts of her that were overflowing with their welcome to him. She knew she should have been ashamed and embarrassed about the pool of her own moisture that had already begun collecting at her feet, but she couldn't think enough to do so.

  Suddenly, she felt herself being hitched even higher, watching in disbelief as he draped her thighs over his shoulders, opening her to him whether she wanted to be or not. Pausing for a long second, closing his eyes and deeply – ritualistically – he inhaled a huge lungful of nothing but her scent on a deep growl that rumbled almost tangibly between them before raising his head. And only then, opening his eyes, those full, sensual lips quirking just slightly upwards – top lip moving just enough to give her a glimpse of frighteningly impressive canines – in a smile that had nothing whatever to do with amusement, and everything to do with raw, primitive male pride and possessiveness, that she heartily wished she hadn't seen.

  Chapter 2

  She should have been protesting. She should have been screaming, although she knew there was no one around to hear her, no one to come to her aid in any way. Still, she should have been doing anything necessary to extract herself from his hold.

  In the back of her mind—in the miniscule part of it that still retained the ability to reason—she knew all of that. But she had already found that she could act on none of it. She had completely lost the ability to deny herself what this man was so obviously offering. She didn't know why, and at this moment, she didn't really care.

  Especially since he was nuzzling his nose with unerring accuracy between her dripping folds as she felt him, literally, lower her onto – and into – his waiting mouth.

  It certainly wasn't the desire to get away f
rom him that had her grinding and writhing against him. It wasn't even the roughness of the rock behind her that she could feel scratching her skin. It wasn't even the prickly hairs of his beard against her pristine lips. In fact, if anything, that only served to heighten her desire. The contrast of the uncontrollable bliss he was inflicting on her, occasionally backed down from combustibility by the rough hairs being, deliberately, she suspected, dragged along that over-sensitized, over stimulated flesh, making it almost itchy, then both soothing and driving her relentlessly back to a fever pitch while doing so. Carefully never sending her over the edge, which only seemed to make her leak even more copiously – knowing in the back of her mind that she should be mortified at her body's reaction to him, although wishing desperately that she could be, did not make it so.

  She was surprised he wasn't drowning, knowing she was drenching him in her fluids, but he seemed to revel in them, literally burying his face in her cunt, wetting the entirety of it with her, and worrying even the hair on his head over her exposed bits.

  Nothing she had ever experienced in her life before stasis had prepared her for how this man was making her feel. She would have sworn that she had experienced the absolute heights of her own pleasure, but that was a pale imitation in comparison to this. She felt as if her entire body had the sensitivity of the area his mouth and tongue were devouring, and it was at once exhilarating and devastating – to be so exposed, so raw, so totally out of control.

  And so completely controlled by someone else, someone she couldn't be sure wouldn't just kill her when he had taken what he wanted from her, someone who was more than big enough to snap her neck on a whim.

  Or even accidentally.

  Before she could try to marshal what little was left of her thought processes to worry about this, he moved, shifting them away from the wall – never breaking the seal of his mouth over her, never disturbing the rhythm of his talented tongue as it alternately coaxed and demanded a response from her – which it always received.

  She didn't even realize that he had moved them until she felt the couch cushions of her makeshift bed at her back. Until she realized – belatedly – that he was crouched over her like a lion over his prey, looking down at her and catching her eye as his hand found where his tongue had so recently been, sluicing down that juicy cleft until he found what he was looking for and began to press a big finger inside her.

  It was too much. Too much stimulation and not nearly enough release. She couldn't take any more, but was powerless to convey that to him. It was much too advanced a concept for what had become her tiny pea brain.

  Her mind latched onto one word as her body tried to convince him to give her what she needed in other ways – writhing, arching her hips towards him – blatantly offering herself to him.

  "Please!" she whispered fervently, demandingly. But her only reward for her efforts was another one of those evil almost-smiles that made her shiver fearfully, although she was obviously not nearly afraid enough to have it dampen her rampant desires in any way. In fact, if anything, it increased them even further, making her wish she could stop herself but the word was out of her mouth before she could even begin to recall the impulse. "Please?"

  That big finger began to move, and at first, she thought that was going to help her, to soothe her, but seconds later she realized that it, too, was only making things worse.

  Much, much worse.

  She was so far gone, so deep within her own suffering needs, that, at first, she hadn't noticed that he'd removed the cloth wrapped around his waist and hips, covering his maleness.

  But when he grabbed her hand and brought it to him, her head snapped up as her fingers sought – and failed – to wrap themselves around his tumescence.

  It seemed that everything about him was formidably large. In truth, she wasn't even sure she could take him. She had only had the one lover, and she'd never even owned a dildo that was this big.

  But it wasn't as if he was going to give her a choice, because, seconds later, it wasn't his finger she felt filling her.

  At least, he wasn't simply ramming himself into her. He was surprisingly slow and gentle, even though she would have sworn that he was at least as gone as she was, watching her avidly, adjusting her legs and the position of his hips as he advanced himself into her, reaching down between them to pull open first one side of both her inner and outer lips a bit. Then, as he advanced incrementally forward, moving to the other, ignoring her wordless protests and breathless moans as he laid claim to more and more of her while chanting fervently, "So tight – so tight – so tight!" under his breath.

  Her mind certainly couldn't deal with what was happening to her, but her body welcomed it – even though she felt as if – with every tiny advance – she was losing more and more of herself to him, to the painful – but undeniably – unbelievably – pleasurable sensations he was conjuring so effortlessly within her.

  It felt so good to be truly, unutterably full of him. By the time she could feel him drive himself fully into her, she knew that he was stretching every single millimeter of her femininity to capacity – and beyond – to accommodate him. And it was the first time since she'd first seen him that she couldn't feel herself leaking any longer, because there was literally no room for her to do so – the fit was just that tight.

  The sensation of him taking her so completely and utterly was unbearable. She could feel herself right on the brink – right at that edge, at that point where it should have been inevitable that she would begin to contract uncontrollably – in what would inevitably be another potent mix of pain and pleasure – around him.

  But – for whatever reason – she couldn't. He left her with an unattended, exposed aching need.

  Because she was well beyond coherent thought, she didn't become alarmed when he reached down to gather her wrists in his hand, stretching her arms so far above her head that she had to arch even further into him – to offer herself up to him helplessly – so that her muscles wouldn't hurt.

  And at that exact moment, he snapped his hips forward, and – unbelievably – there seemed to be even more of him that was much wider than the rest, that seemed to lock into her and grow even further as the imposing head of his cock nestled tightly against her cervix...

  Dan had – on rare, vigorous occasions – nudged her cervix, which she had not found uncomfortable.

  And neither was this.

  This...and the rocking – pumping – the still stretching tightness he was subjecting her to that seemed to have drawn her clit down to the point that every breath he took rubbed her there, too...

  It was wickedly evil.

  It had to be to feel this good.

  The slight stab of pain she felt deep within her when he pulled just slightly out – as if his cock was barbed and he was setting himself into her g-spot – she quickly forgot as, somehow, that pain mutated into unbearable, searing desire. And the waiting ended at that exact moment, as he laid full claim to her at last, and the interminable waiting was over.

  At the exact moment he began to spew his cum directly into her womb, his body naturally held hers helpless to receive his seed. Leaning further over her, filling her eyes, her mind, and her body with his overwhelming presence, pressing her legs back just the slightest bit further, increasing the helplessness of her position he very deliberately unleashed the apocalyptic pleasure that had been building within her.

  In that moment of confluence – where every single bit of her femininity was engulfed in a bliss so strong it could not be imagined – could not be withstood – could not be survived – she thought she might die of it, and somehow that would have been all right with her.

  Her body acted entirely on its own, under his stern command, surging upwards in perfect rhythm with the spurting of his cream within her, her contractions milking him, adding mightily to both of their pleasures.

  And that bliss seemed to be never ending. Those wondrous sensations had always begun to die off rather quickly – not that
she wasn't capable of more, she was, but that was another hill to climb – however small.

  But this showed absolutely no signs of stopping. As he rocked himself gently against her, tugging both at the barb he had sunken into her tender flesh as well as the swollen knot within her, the euphoria she felt was constantly renewed and continued. Maintaining its peak, even deepening as her body followed his dictates automatically, needing no help from her to do as he wanted, while she found herself helplessly caught up in that maelstrom of paradise from which she felt she could never recover.

  She had no idea how long he labored over her, keeping her orgasm alive for much longer than she would ever have thought possible, until, with a last cry, she finally felt him expend the last of himself into her, and both the barb and the bulge at the base of his penis began to subside.

  And she realized immediately that it was not just her now leaking around him and out of her. In fact, she didn't think she was contributing anything at the moment – every bit of it was him, leaving her in great globs as her body continued to contract gently around him.

  As she felt him shrink within her, she thought he would leave her and was surprised to realize that she didn't much like that idea. She wanted him near her – preferably, inside of her – and that the thought of being separated from him was troubling – which made it just that much more troubling, since she had always prided herself on being an independent woman.

  While they were still somewhat joined, he looked up at her, reaching up to catch her chin.

  "Tell me that you are mine," he demanded.

  She raised her eyebrow. Not what she would have hoped for his first words to her. But then – as reason slowly returned to her – she hadn't given him much cause to think she might balk at that idea.

  Nevertheless, she wasn't about to do so – fantastic sex or not.

  "How could I possibly say that to someone I've never met?"