CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

Fisting her hair, Tate took her mouth and plunged his tongue inside. And there it was—that sweetly addictive taste that had set up a craving in him four months ago. He groaned, long and loud. Fuck if he hadn’t missed it.

As need exploded between them, he used his grip on her hair to angle her head and sank his tongue deeper. The kiss was hot. Wet. Hungry. Urgent. He couldn’t get enough.

He swore he could get fucking drunk on her taste—it made his head spin, just like her delectable scent that now perfumed the air laced with arousal. It made his inner feline frantic for her, like her scent was fucking catnip.

Tate growled low in his throat as she thrust her fingers through his hair and wildly scratched at his scalp. The sting made his rock-hard dick throb painfully. He roughly ground against her clit again and again, feeling the heat of her pussy through their jeans.

Neither of them had much control. They were both frantic and desperate, yanking at each other’s clothes. Soon, both his tee and her blouse were gone. She curled one leg over his hip just as he cupped her breast and thumbed her nipple through the black lace of her bra.

Arching into his hand, she tore her lips free to take a breath. With a snarl, Tate claimed her mouth again, nowhere near done with it. He feasted. Devoured. Plundered.

He gave her taut nipple a pinch and slid his hand over her breast, up her chest, and then snaked it around her throat. Just as he’d expected, her body stilled. Her breath caught. And a throaty snarl poured out of her mouth into his.

She broke the kiss, clearly riled by his dominant hold. “Let. Go.”

If he thought she genuinely didn’t like it, he’d release her instantly. But this wasn’t about likes or dislikes. This was a battle for dominance. Not a sexual game. It wasn’t about kneeling, lowering your eyes, or obeying every order. This was something much more primal—an alpha female demanding that her male prove himself worthy of her and any ounce of submission she’d deign to give him. Both he and his cat intended to do just that.

So Tate flexed his hand around her throat, leaned all his body weight into her, and said simply, “No.”

She scratched at his wrist hard enough to sting but didn’t draw blood. “Let fucking go.”

Tightening his grip on her hair, he instead snatched her head back and squeezed her throat. “Behave. Unless you want to get dry humped against this counter. I’m not opposed to that, but I’ll be the only one who gets to come.”

She shoved at his chest and kicked at him. He let her. She was strong enough to escape his hold if it was what she truly wanted. But this wasn’t a test of his physical strength. She was pitting her will against his. So he didn’t move an inch, didn’t loosen his hold on her, didn’t berate her, didn’t lose his patience. He just stayed very still, outwaiting her, letting her know that he wouldn’t be cowered.

She eventually ceased struggling, but there was no surrender in the act—her body was still tense, her muscles coiled to strike. As such, he didn’t release her, but he slowly lifted her head by her hair. “That’s better. Now … open your jeans.”

Her eyes flared.

“Do it.”

“Can’t,” she bit out. “You’re crushing me.”

“I’ll give your hands some room once they’re heading in the right direction. Now open your jeans. I want to slide my finger into that pussy of yours.” He was so attuned to her that he sensed her tense muscles slacken just a little.

She tried slipping her hands between their bodies. He pulled back his hips a few inches, giving her some room, and felt her fingers tackling her fly. A zipper lowered—

She lunged forward and latched her teeth on his throat, taking him off-guard. His cock went impossibly thicker, and his jaw ached with the need to return the bite. Hands shoved his chest hard enough to make him stagger backwards. Then she was gone from his hold and racing out of the kitchen. He should have seen that coming.

Her heart pounding and her devil urging her on, Havana rushed into the living area, conscious of him chasing—

Her breath whooshed out of her as an arm wrapped around her waist from behind and yanked her against a hard chest. “Motherfucker.”

Ignoring her struggles, the bastard wrestled her to the floor. He flipped her onto her back, yanked down her bra, and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

She inhaled sharply and clamped her hands around his shoulders. Jesus, that felt good. Too good. But she wasn’t ready to give into him yet. She didn’t shove him away, though, because it would hurt like a bitch while he was letting her feel the edge of his teeth on her nipple. Each rough suckle sent a spark of pleasure straight to her pussy.

Even as her devil snarled at his insistence on subduing and dominating her, she didn’t want him to stop. It wasn’t that she or Havana wanted to be ordered around or disciplined. They just wanted a male who knew what he was about in the bedroom; one who owned his strength in such a way that he could take control.

Havana wasn’t ashamed of it. It was a natural part of her sexuality that she liked to explore and didn’t bother to question. During the battle for dominance, she was the focus of his world, just as he was hers. There was no room for thoughts of anyone or anything else.

She never felt weak in the moment when she finally yielded. It wasn’t an expression of weakness, it was a concession that he’d earned the right to take control—something she’d wanted him to do all along. And once he had it, he was on a major high. There was something empowering for her about being responsible for that high he was on. But neither of them would come to that point if he didn’t earn it.

He slid his hand down her stomach and slipped it into her panties, unerringly finding her clit. She couldn’t help but moan as he worked it hard—flicking, rubbing, pinching, and rolling the tip of his finger around it first one way then the other. Damn, the bastard was good.

“That’s it, very good,” he praised before latching onto her nipple again.

What, he thought she’d yielded this soon? Pfft. She scratched his nape hard enough to make him release her nipple with a snarl. Using a fancy defensive move, she flipped him over, leaped to her feet, and ran.

She didn’t get far.

He tackled her again mere seconds later, sending them both to their knees. She swore as he then bent her upper body over the chair cushion and curved himself around her.

He growled into her ear, “I wasn’t done.” He palmed her breast and shoved his free hand into her panties. “Fucking take what I give you.” Not in the least deterred by her struggles, he expertly played with her clit as he cupped and shaped her breast, pausing every now and then to pinch and tweak her nipple until it throbbed.

She tried to resist just sinking into the moment, she honestly did, but it was so goddamn hard. He knew her every weak spot. Knew her every hot button. Knew exactly what to whisper in her ear to ramp up the need racing through her.

She hissed. “You’re a fucking dick.”

Tate felt his mouth kick up into a smile. “Oh, I know that.” He slid his hand deeper into her panties, slipped his finger through her slick folds, and dipped it inside her. She squirmed, trying to drive herself onto his finger, but he used the weight of his body to pin her in place. “You want my finger deeper, baby? Hmm? Then all you have to do is stop fighting.”

She twisted her head and bit his jaw hard, which he could have ignored if her hand hadn’t reached down and squeezed his balls through his jeans—it didn’t hurt, but it did make him flinch backwards in surprise. Then she was gone again.

Fuck. He pursued her fast, snatched her off her feet, and tossed her over his shoulder. Her fists pounded his back as he stalked into her bedroom, where he then threw on the mattress so hard that she bounced. She probably would have lunged at him if he hadn’t then collapsed on top of her and pinned her wrists above her head.

His poor baby writhed and cursed and growled in sheer exasperation. Tate transferred both her wrists to one of his hands and then snapped open his fly. He almost groaned in relief as his aching cock sprang free. He pulled her own fly wider open and, paying no attention to her struggles or insults, kissed and suckled on her throat while rubbing his cock against her clit through her panties. It wasn’t long before her growls became moans and she went from squirming to arching intohim.

He raked his teeth over her pulse, flirting with the relentless temptation to bite and mark—it never gave him any reprieve. But no, he couldn’t do that to her.

His dick jerked when she let out a whimper loaded with so much hunger that she had to be literally hurting with the need to come. Hell, he could fucking relate. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothed into her ear. “I can give you what you need. All you have to do is settle down for me. I can’t taste your pussy if you don’t.”

She stilled, obviously intrigued by that idea.

He brought his face back to hers. Her eyes stared up at him, hazy with arousal and glinting with desperation. There was something else there. A hint of capitulation that pleased his cat. This wasn’t a full surrender, though. More like she was going to let him have his way for now purely because it suited her.

Tate kissed his way between the valley of her breasts and down her stomach and then gripped the waistband of both her jeans and panties. He spread more hungry kisses along her navel as he ever so slowly began to tug down her jeans and panties, stopping when they hit mid-thigh, trapping her legs in place.

Ignoring her frown, he did a teasing foray at the soft, bald V of her thighs with his tongue. “Haven’t tasted my pussy in over a week. I’m gonna enjoy this.” He used his thumbs to spread open her slick folds, and then he lapped at her clit and slit.

She was going to kill him, Havana decided. She was. The asshole knew she hated the feeling of being restricted. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t hate it, she just hated that she liked it. In truth, being unable to move her legs—unable to spread them, or lift them, or expose more of her pussy to his mouth—inflamed her even more than it frustrated her.

She gasped as he wrapped his lips around her clit and suckled. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Damn if the man didn’t have one talented mouth. She wanted more of it.

She squirmed. “My clothes. Get them off.”

He lashed her clit with his tongue. “All right. On one condition.”

Havana narrowed her eyes, and her devil went still. “What?”

“Once I’ve got you naked, you have to spread those thighs wide and offer me what I want.”

In other words, he wanted another element of surrender from her. Not a surprise. She almost jumped as he gently scraped his teeth over the V of her thighs.

He inhaled deeply. “Not sure what I love more—your taste or your scent.” He suckled on her clit again, not so gentle this time.

She palmed the back of his head and bucked toward his mouth, not whatsoever impressed when he stopped.

“Well, what’ll it be? You want me to eat this pussy or not?”

She felt her nostrils flare. “Fine. I’ll give you what you want. Then you give me what I want.”

“Done.” Tate stood, pulled off her shoes, and then ragged off what was left of her clothes. He also shed his own clothing.

She could only stare at the thick, long cock tapping his belly. He made a damn spectacular sight with the broad shoulders, roped muscle, sleek tanned skin, rock-hard abs, and solid thighs.

He flicked up an expectant brow. A growl of approval rattled his chest when she slowly spread her legs, offering herself. “That’s it.” He knelt on the bed, gripped her hips, yanked her pussy to his mouth, and then plunged his tongue inside her.

Havana fisted the bedsheets. “Oh, fuck.” There was no teasing, no playing. He drove her hard and fast toward an orgasm—licking, probing, nipping, and feasting—but the bastard stopped just before she came. “Oh my God, you are such an asshole!”

Barely holding back a smile, Tate wiped his face on her stomach and then draped himself over her. “I don’t want you coming until I’m in you.” He palmed her ass and tilted her hips, loving how she clung to his back. She sucked in a sharp breath as he lodged the thick head of his cock inside her. But he didn’t thrust forward, didn’t give her more.

She pricked his back with her nails. “Tate.”

He lightly bit her earlobe. “What do you want, Havana? You have to tell me.” Because he didn’t want any recriminations. He didn’t want her later accusing him of seducing her against her better judgement or some shit like that. But, being a little miffed that he hadn’t once let her come, she didn’t seem in the mood to be cooperative.

She licked her lips. “You,” she replied simply, stubbornly.

Tate sank another inch of his dick inside her. “That’s not a good enough answer. Too vague, as you well know.” He lightly raked his teeth along her cheek. “What do you want?”

Her upper lip quivered. “Stop talking and just do it.”

He closed his teeth warningly around her jaw. “Do what?”

“Get inside me.”

“I already am inside you. If you want more of my dick, make me believe you want it.”

She snarled. “Fuck this shit.” Shepunched up her hips, aiming to impale herself on him, but he’d pre-empted her.

Tate reared back, pulling out of her, and slid off the mattress so that he stood at the foot of the bed. He flipped her over, gripped her ankles, and yanked her down the mattress until only the upper part of her body rested on it.

She fisted the sheets for purchase, but he clamped his fingers around her wrists and then pinned her hands behind her back, keeping them both trapped in one of his. He used the weight of his legs and hips to pin her lower body still so that no amount of squirming freed her.

“Let me up, you prick!” Havana stilled as he slowly slid two thick, calloused fingers inside her. The sensation was just … God, she needed it. Needed more. Needed everything.

He swirled his fingers. “When I get my cock in you, I’m gonna fuck you so hard. Gonna take what I’ve been craving for over a goddamn week. And you’re going to love it. You’re going to love every second of it. But none of that’s going to happen until you tell me that you want it.” He roughly pushed his fingers even deeper, shocking a gasp out of her. “So fucking say it.”

She didn’t bother struggling again—there’d be no moving, no bucking him off, no deterring him from having exactly what he wanted. He wasn’t going to take her until she backed down. Even her devil recognized that. “I want it,” she ceded, letting herself go pliant against the mattress. “I want you to fuck me.”

He hummed in masculine satisfaction. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the broad tip of his cock. “Come when you’re ready.”

Dear God, he slammed home with such force that it knocked the breath from her lungs. Her inner muscles squeezed him tight, wrenching a groan out of him. “Fuck me,” she rasped.

Keeping her hands pinned behind her back, he rode her hard, digging the fingers of his free hand into her hip. She felt the slap of his balls each time he drove forward. She would have reared back to meet his thrusts if she could have moved. But, in a display of pure male domination, he completely overpowered her. And she liked it. Wanted it. Had needed it from second one.

She came within minutes, but he didn’t stop. He savagely fucked in and out of her, grunting and growling. She fought to free her hands for the hell of it, but he kept his grip tight around her wrists as he quite simply rutted on her.

“That’s it, fight me.” Tate slid his hand from her hip to her nape and used it to pin her down as he kept on powering into her. She bit out a harsh curse and struggled again. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.”

If Tate thought she wanted to be free, he’d release her hands. But she liked the struggle; liked it rough. Which was a real good thing, because Tate’s control had left him the second her blazing hot pussy enveloped every inch of his dick. There was no way of getting that control back when his senses were swamped by her—her throaty moans, the scent of her arousal, the hot clasp of her inner muscles, the sight of her bent over the bed taking his cock.

He had so little self-discipline where she was concerned … which was why he kept eying the back of her shoulder. He wanted the skin there gripped between his teeth. Wanted to bite down hard—not to exert his dominance, but to leave a mark of possession there. And it didn’t help that his cat was pushing him to do it.

Cursing, Tate fucked her harder, surged deeper, took everything. He ground his teeth as his balls tightened and he felt the telling tingle at the base of his spine. Releasing her wrists, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked her head back, and used his free hand to collar her throat. She didn’t fight him that time. Didn’t bristle or curse him … because he’d earned the right to hold her that way. “Come for me one last time, Havana.”

Her breath hitched. “I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can. You will.” He squeezed her throat and hammered into her harder, faster. “Do it.”

She sucked in a breath and then let out a raspy scream as her pussy spasmed and clamped down on his cock. Tate slammed into her again and again … until finally his release rammed into him and dragged him under. He exploded, filling her with everything he had, growling as her inner muscles milked him. It was a good few seconds before he realized that he had the skin at the back of her shoulder gripped between his teeth. Shit.

Tate instantly released her flesh and collapsed forward on his elbows, all hollowed out. Still, he slowly and idly glided his cock in and out of her while they came down from their high, just as he always did. The whole time, he called himself all kinds of stupid for branding her. “About the mark—”

“It’s fine, Tate,” she slurred. “It’ll heal.”

His cat bared his teeth at the idea. “I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“Jeez, relax, will you? You’re messing with my buzz here.”

Tate snickered. “Wouldn’t want to do that.” Despite that she didn’t seem all that bothered by it, he softly kissed the bite in apology. Honestly, though, he wasn’t as sorry as he should have been.

Weirdly, the urge to mark her that had lived and breathed inside him for what felt like months wasn’t yet gone, but it had lost its vehemence. It was now more like a subtle, background pulse in his gut.

Havana stirred slightly as she felt his dick slip out of her. She almost moaned in disappointment. He looped an arm around her waist and shuffled her up the bed so they could both lie flat. She remained on her stomach, her muscles all loose and lazy, her eyes closed.

He could be incredibly sweet and tactile after sex, so Havana wasn’t surprised when Tate curled into her side and stroked her back, mapping and petting her. Utterly sated, her devil all but hummed in contentment.

He pressed his mouth to her shoulder as he smoothed his hand up her nape and thrust his fingers into her hair. Those fingers began a slow, firm massage that almost made her toes curl.

“Your wrists okay?” he asked, dabbing another kiss on her shoulder.

She opened her eyes, liking the languid look in his own. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He skimmed his fingertips over her hairline, behind her ear, and down to dance along the crook of her neck. “How’s your devil doing?”

“Practically asleep.”

Humming, he dragged his fingers down her spine and then gently stroked one globe of her ass. “Love your body. Especially that world-class ass.” He carefully eased her onto her side and smoothed his hand over her hip, up her stomach, and palmed her full breast. “And these tits. Love fucking them.” He lazily sipped from her mouth, his tongue barely flicking the tip of hers. It didn’t matter whether his kisses were hard and urgent or soft and easy—they were always mind-melting.

Pulling back, he flitted his intent gaze over her face. He brushed her hair aside … as if he didn’t want a single strand obstructing his view. “You look even more beautiful after you come,” he said, his voice low. “Your eyes go all soft and dreamy, and your face gets all warm and flushed. Love that look.”

A phone began to chime, slicing through the deliciously lazy atmosphere. Tate’s phone.

He edged off the mattress, crossed to the foot of the bed, and snatched his jeans off the floor. He dug his cell out of his pocket and swiped his thumb over the screen. “Yeah?”

Even with her enhanced hearing, it was impossible for Havana to make out what his caller was saying—Tate no doubt kept the volume low on purpose so that no one could eavesdrop. She could tell it was a male voice, though.

Tate sighed. “I’ll meet you there in five minutes. Call Bree or one of the other omegas. They’ll help calm him.” He ended the call and turned to her. “Got to go, babe. One of my pride mates is pitching a fit and causing a scene. Need to shut that shit down.”

Havana remained exactly where she was as he dressed. She’d forgotten how it hurt to watch him drag on his clothes and leave. He never did it immediately after sex, but he never stayed long. She hadn’t ever judged him for it—it was simply his way of ensuring that the boundaries remained clear. But it wasn’t much fun for her.

She wondered if maybe he’d stop pushing her for sex now that she’d finally caved. It was possible that his ego had indeed been smarting after she ended their fling. Now that he was able to be the one who officially walked away, he might very well do so. Which would be for the best, so she’d suck it up. And eat ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.

Dressed, Tate leaned over and pressed a kiss to her hip … then to her shoulder … then to her forehead. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”

She nodded and forced a smile. “Yeah.”

His eyes narrowed and searched her own. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat and gave him what she hoped was a more authentic-looking smile. “So, I guess I’ll see you again when we take the next step to put a stop to the auction.”

His brows lifted slightly. “You thought tonight would be a one-off?” he asked, his tone carefully even. “That this was some sort of goodbye fuck?” He sat on the bed, rolled her onto her back, and planted a fist either side of her head. “I told you I want you back. I meant it.”

She sighed. “Tate—”

“You can again claim it’s time for us to each ‘go our own way’ if you want, but what’s the point, Havana? Neither of us are ready for that.”

God, she wished she could argue with that. But there was too much unfinished business between them. Too many feelings she hadn’t yet burned out.

“You don’t want me to stay away from you, Havana, and I sure as fuck don’t have any wish to stay away, so why not just let things be?” He cupped the side of her face and swiped the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone. “I wish you’d tell me what I did to upset your devil and make you want to walk.”

And now she was feeling like shit. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I did something, I just don’t know what. Whatever it is, I’m sorry. I’d never purposely hurt you, Havana.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” And she hated that she’d made him believe differently. So she admitted, “But you could. You have that power. And I don’t like it.”

He twisted his mouth. “Yeah, I reckon you could cut me just the same. I can’t say I like it. But I’m not going to let it keep me away from you, and I’m not going to let you do it either.” The hand framing one side of her face slid down to cup her chin. “Let’s just explore and enjoy what we have while we have it.”

“We did that for four months. You don’t think it would be dumb to let this go on for longer, given that you’re determined for things to stay uncomplicated?”

Tate lowered his face to hers. “I’ve got to tell you, babe, there’ll be nothing uncomplicated about walking away from you.” He took her mouth, sinking his tongue inside to stroke her own, then just as swiftly pulled back. He slid his nose against hers. “Tomorrow.”

Watching him stalk out of her room, Havana rubbed at her forehead. By nature, she wasn’t an indecisive person. She didn’t second-guess herself. When she made a choice, she stuck to it. And if it turned out that the decision hadn’t been wise, well, she just plain dealt with the consequences.

Right then, she was mentally fumbling. Did she think that ending their fling had been the wrong thing to do? No. Sort of. If your emotions were involved, it was better to cut your losses when a relationship wasn’t going anywhere. But he was right; she wasn’t ready for them to part ways.

Tate Devereaux had gotten under her skin, and she didn’t see that she had any choice but to take the time to work him back out again. Which absolutely sucked balls.

Cursing, she slipped off the bed and grabbed a camisole and shorts from her dresser. It was time to do what she’d planned to do earlier—watch TV and pig out.