Nash's head bows, his fists clenched at his side. So powerful. So helpless.
I've only known him a few hours, but I can't stand to see him like this.
I touch his shoulder.
"Denali... I-"
"It's all right," I stop his apology. It's not his fault. None of it is. I reach for him and run my hand down the hard line of his back, my body heating at the feel of the muscles bunched under my palm.
"Thank you for protecting me."
He turns, and I almost flinch at the fire burning in his eyes. He wants me. Again. I blink and let the lioness out. Desire pours through me in slow, heated waves.
Nash rumbles with approval-somewhere between a roar and a purr. He cups my nape and claims my mouth, his kiss hungry. Insistent. He's already used his clever tongue between my legs, brought me to orgasm and fit his length inside me. This time is different, though.
I realize now how much he'd held back before.
NASH'S APPRECIATION for my cooking shouldn't please me so much. This isn't the 1950s. I'm not my grandmother, back in New Orleans, showing love through food. I never thought I'd want to win a man's heart through his stomach. But I love the way he acts like the simplest things I've made are a rare delicacy. Kinda how he treats me.
He claims my mouth, much like he did that first night, with a ferocity that makes my knees go weak. It's like he can't get enough of me. Or his very survival depends on keeping our lips locked.
That first night I suppose it did.
Maybe it still does-for Nash, anyway. His lion seems calmer, his bruises and cuts all healed.
There's a power to knowing I healed him.
I remember my grandmother used to say, "Don't ever use your lady parts for gain, Denali. They're for healing." I never realized she meant it literally.
Right now, I'm dying to give Nash another healing.
I nip his lower lip and work the button on his jeans.
"Careful, baby," he rasps. "You sure you want me off my leash?" He pulls my shirt off over my head.
I arch a brow at him. "Pretty sure I can handle you."
The corners of his mouth tilt into a lopsided smile. "I doubt it, baby." He backs me up against the kitchen counter and turns me to face it. When he grabs a wooden spoon from the utensil bin, my heart starts to thud with excitement. This is the side of Nash I crave. The dominant alpha taking charge.
As much as I appreciate his respect for my boundaries, in my dreams he never takes no for an answer. Never lets me push him away. He demands his rightful place in my life. But those are just fantasies.
Nash taps my ass lightly with the spoon. He's testing me. Waiting for a reaction.
I look over my shoulder at him. "Are you going to actually use that spoon, or should-"
He moves swiftly, pinning my hands behind my back and forcing my chest down on the counter. I laugh as he smarts my ass with the wooden spoon. I'm a shifter, so pain is fleeting. In this moment, it registers only as stimulus, augmenting my desire.
Nash nudges my feet wider. "Spread those long, lovely legs. Show me the place I'm going to make sore tonight."
I bare my teeth and growl at his dirty talk, my core turning molten.
Nash brings the spoon up between my legs, spanking my pussy. I jerk against his hold, not that I really want to be free. It's intense, but wonderful. Pain that blooms right away into pleasure.
"How do you think it will feel to take your mate's big lion cock after your pussy has been thoroughly spanked?"
I seriously don't know how I keep from passing out. I'm hot and dizzy with lust, frantic to get my shorts off. To remove all the barriers between us.
"Why don't you show me?" I dare.
He keeps spanking my pussy with firm taps of the wooden spoon. Then it suddenly clatters to the floor and he shoves my shorts and panties down my hips. "It's been hours since I last fucked this pussy," he says, like that's way too long. But I remember from our cell he had no shortage of stamina.
He releases my wrists to roll on a condom and I wriggle out of the shorts and panties tangled at my feet. I brace my hands against the kitchen counter and return to my position, feet spread wide, ass out.
Nash slaps my bare ass and I shush him. "Too loud," I murmur.
"Oh, it's going to be loud," he growls right before he impales me with his cock. He covers my mouth on the next thrust. "Because I definitely plan on making you scream."
My nipples scrape the inside of my bra, hard as diamonds. Nash wraps an arm around my hips to protect them from banging against the counter, all the while rocking me up to my toes with each savage thrust.
"You needed to be claimed by your mate, didn't you, baby? Did you need a big lion cock to fill you up?" This ungentlemanly side of him is so in contrast to the lion I mated with, yet it turns me on just as much. No-way more.
"Yes." My lips move against his hand.
I do need it. I need it so badly I'm ready to weep or beg for him to bring me to climax.
His thumb slips into my mouth and I suck on it, hard. He continues to ram into me, slapping my buttocks with his loins, lifting me to my toes with each powerful instroke. I want-no, I need-to take him deeper. Deeper than this position allows.
As if he senses that I'm restless, he pulls out and whirls me around. I cat-attack him-leaping to straddle his waist, arms wrapped around his neck. He stumbles back, eyes glowing with appreciation.
"You need to be on top, my queen?"
I bite his neck savagely. He hits the table and stumbles, then crashes to the floor, careful to keep me on top.