Carnal Thirst

with it.

'Look at me,” he demanded hoarsely. “I want you to see the man who takes you.'

She opened her eyes, meeting his half-lidded gaze, so intense, it made her breath catch.

'I am not him, Maggie.” He bent until he could brush his lips over hers. “Let me in, ma Coeur . Do not shield your heart from me,” he said softly.

He kissed her tenderly, rubbing himself against her moist center in a coaxing caress. Maggie kissed him back, arching, spreading her bent knees out and opening herself to him. She wanted this—him—inside, to take the pain away.

His tongue rubbed along hers as the stroke stopped, pressing into her opening. Her muscles tightened unconsciously. She willed them to relax, accept him. A streak of pleasure and pain flared along her nerves, making her pussy cream with a forceful gush. He groaned into her mouth, probing her, pushing that thickness past her screaming muscles.

She was whimpering into his mouth, clutching his biceps, struggling not to pass out. He stretched her so far that her tight channel burned in protest, spasming in agony and repulsion.

He tore his mouth from hers, growling in fury and pain. “I cannot do this,” he said raggedly, withdrawing.

Maggie stiffened, cried out. “Please,” she said desperately, locking her legs around his hips.

His arms shook, muscles bulging. Sweat dotted his brow, his arms and chest. “It hurts you too much. I should never have pressed you.'

She pulled him further, forcing him deeper inside, gasping, crying at the hurt. “I want you to. Don't stop, I beg you, don't stop.'

'I must,” he rasped.

Danior groaned in agony, fighting her lure, the siren call of her womb and the sweetness of her body. He held perfectly still, shaking with the effort. Every muscle was taut, stretched to the limits of his endurance.

She arched upward, rubbing her nipples against his chest, her cunt clenching and unclenching on his cock.

With a broken cry, his will shattered. He drove into her fully, until his thick erection jutted against her womb.

Maggie screamed, pain overriding her pleasure, but mingling, until her nerves prickled with heated need.

He dropped his forehead against hers, panting, his warm breath fanning across her lips. She tilted her head, kissing him lightly, bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks.

He opened his eyes, looking at her as her sheath groaned with the weight of his cock.

'Make love to me,” she whispered, kissing him.

A shudder wracked him, traveling down his spine through his hips. With tender care, he pulled out, inch by inch.

The bulb of his cock rippled through her channel, making her quiver.

'You are so tight,” he croaked huskily. “You burn me alive. I feel as though you clutch my heart with your sheath.'

He neared the edge of her opening, gritted his teeth, and drove inside again. A strangled cry ripped from her throat as he burrowed so deeply, so possessively inside.

Sweat dampened her skin, making her cling to him, making her feel like she would melt. Her pussy was feverish, burning her up. The pressure there nearly unbearable.

He thrust shallowly, quickly, working her juices up and down his thick shaft until her tightness eased and he set a pistoning stroke that had her raising up to meet him.

Maggie braced her feet on the bed, raising her knees, jerking her hips up with every stroke. He ground down, against her clit, roughing that sensitive spot until shots of pleasure streaked through her veins. She bucked against him, dying with pleasure, nerves going taut with each bumping grind.

She sizzled with need everywhere, gripping his shoulders, tossing her head side to side as he drove into her like a man possessed.

Moans echoed in the room, her own, frantic, desperately reaching for the climax she felt hovered just out of her reach.

He pushed her toward it, higher and higher, his hard thrusts driving her up the bed with the force of his movements. Something had been unleashed in him. Desperate. Frightening. That danger she'd sensed before loomed. He buried his face at her neck, teeth and tongue caressing her there.

He craved the blood. She wanted to give it to him, let him suck her dry if only to prolong the blissful torment impaling her.

He groaned against her neck, sucking at the crook, where she'd been injured before. Maggie moaned, her inner muscles rippling as the pleasure built to a crescendo of fury.

She clutched him, grasping his cock as the orgasm sizzled along her nerves. Screaming, she was helpless to it, crying out again and again as waves of searing pleasure pounded inside her.

Her mind closed down, embracing the feeling. It poured through her, making her cunt convulse on the power.

He arched his head back, shuddering, driving into her one last time as his semen erupted inside her quaking pussy. Her vision went dim and she closed her eyes, going lightheaded from the peak of it, a pinnacle she had never dreamed possible.

' Ma Coeur. Amour,” he said, his breathing hard, labored against her neck as he collapsed on top of her and held her, pleasure shuddering through him into her.

After a moment, he withdrew his flaccid length with a soft smacking sound and rolled, bringing them onto their sides as he rocked her close, sheltering her body. Maggie snuggled close, overwhelmed and unable to speak. He whispered French into her ear, lovingly kissing the shell of it, her neck and cheek, anywhere he could reach. His hands moved tenderly over her backside, through her hair and along her shoulders.

She had always been ashamed of her past and how stupid she'd been. But Danior made her forget it.

Near him, all she could think about was how he made her feel, and he made her feel beautiful and womanly.

She felt new, as though by accepting him into herself, she'd been remade into another woman. Stronger.

Someone capable and worthy of love.

Her lips curled in a smile and she kissed his chin, already warming to his tender caresses, craving more of him.

Chapter Eight

Danior studied Maggie as she slept the deep, dreamless sleep of the truly sated. His lips curled faintly on that thought in self-deprecating amusement, but she'd left him in no doubt that he had thoroughly pleased her. He was weary himself after making love to her most of the day, but too tense and anxious to sleep.

She still didn't fully grasp that her own life was in as much danger as his, but then she didn't realize that the council was ruthless, and merciless. As beautiful as she was, they would not hesitate to destroy her.

Their rules would be maintained. There were no exceptions.

He'd known that even when he agreed to take her. He'd known, sooner or later, they would learn of it and Maggie's life would be forfeit as well as his own for protecting her.

She would have to accept it. For whatever reason he'd felt compelled to protect her, to begin with—for amusement, or merely a whim—there was no doubt in his mind why that had changed from mild interest to a desperate obsession.

He couldn't go on without her and he had no intention of doing so even if he had to take her by force.

There was no place inside the US safe for them now. The council might have no control outside of New Orleans, but they need only contact the council where ever he might think to go to, and he and Maggie would be