She ran one hand through his thick hair, stepping so close to him he could smell their combined scents on her. His marks were all over her body. More leopard than man at times when they made love, he could be rough. He leaned forward and kissed a dark smudge just on the inside of her thigh. She trembled. He stroked his tongue over the bruise. His hand moved higher and encountered heat.

That wild urgency settled inside of him. “You’re wet for me.”

“I’m always wet for you. I get wet just lookin’ at you,” she admitted. “It’s hell on my panties.”

“Don’ wear the damn things,” he suggested, and leaned forward to press his mouth into her center. He loved the taste of her, all that wild lavender honey. He caught her hips with both hands and dragged her to him, his tongue stabbing deep, seeking more honey, drawing it out and devouring her for his early morning pleasure.

She steadied herself by placing her hands on his shoulders, her soft little cries of pleasure escaping in spite of her desire to stay quiet. Along with all the other things he loved about her, those soft sounds were music to him. She threw her head back as he indulged himself. His tongue teased and danced and he suckled at her little clit, until her legs trembled and her soft cries grew more demanding. She actually fisted his hair to pull his head back.

He grinned at her. “Is there somethin’ you wanted, chere?”

“You, Remy Boudreaux,” she answered back, panting a little. Placing one hand on his chest, she pushed him back until he allowed himself to sprawl across the bed. “Right now. Right here.”

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re insatiable?”

“You started this,” she pointed out, straddling his hips. “I just intend to finish it.”

She settled over his heavy erection slowly, using a sliding corkscrew motion that forced the air to rush from his lungs and every nerve ending in his body to come alive. Little electric sparks leapt through his blood stream and rushed to a single point in his groin.

Bijou looked exotic and beautiful with her cat’s eyes, the wealth of dark hair falling like a silken cape to caress her satin skin. Every move she made drew his attention to her full breasts, rising and falling, swaying with the rhythm as she rode him. She made those little sounds, that sexy music he couldn’t wait to hear, as her muscles gripped and squeezed every time she made the descent over his rigid cock.

He reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing at the hard little peaks. As her body rose over his and fell, and the little small circles she made with her hips drove him mad while her muscles gripped with the strength of a fist, he used his fingers to tug and pull, to do some rolling of his own. Her gaze jumped to his, and then she threw back her head, grinding down harder, but still keeping that excruciating, slow pace. A flood of lavender honey bathed him in slick heat.

He transferred his hands to her hips. That slow, easy glide was designed to drive him insane and it was working.

“What’s wrong, leopard boy?” she taunted. “Too much for you? Can’t take it?”

“You’re goin’ to get yourself into trouble,” he cautioned, his fingers digging deeper into her hips. If she did one more slow spiral, those tight muscles dragging over him with such hot friction, he might just lose his mind for real.

“I think I’ve proven I can take whatever you dish out,” she replied, rising over him and starting another slow spin down.

“I want you to remember that the next time we have a lot of time and a location where no one can hear you when I make you beg,” he warned, gritting his teeth as the muscles moved as if alive, a velvet fist so hot and tight strangling him in a fierce grip.

She rose again, a small, teasing smile on her face. He waited until she began that slow spiral down and he moved his finger into her, finding her sweet spot and making those same slow teasing circles before tugging and teasing.

Bijou cried out softly and rewarded him with a fresh flood of her hot honey, coating both his cock and fingers. He licked that lavender cream from his fingers and then when she started down again, he thrust upward hard while he dragged her down over him. Her cry was louder as he swelled more, forcing her body to accept him.

He rolled fast with her and came up on his knees, pushing her legs up and back over her shoulders so he could thrust as deep as possible. Sometimes he wanted to crawl inside of her, and share her skin and bones. He needed those soft little cries building to a crescendo. He needed her body gripping his in a stranglehold. He had to know she needed him the same way.

Bijou gave him everything he demanded of her, generously, unafraid, and made few demands of her own. She might have started out inexperienced, but she made up for it with her determination to please him—to give herself to him in any way he needed or demanded. He closed his eyes and let the rush just take him, hurtling through him like rockets going off.

Her body shuddered and rippled around his as he took her with him. She lay quiet beneath him, her breath ragged, her eyes a little glazed and her hair a wild mass of silk across the bed. Remy collapsed over her, blanketing her completely, pressing his body into hers, as if that could stamp him onto her skin.

Her arms went around his neck, hands sliding over his shoulders to his back. She held him tightly to her. He felt every heartbeat as his own, every rise and fall of her breasts as she took in air and let it out. He felt her in his mind, bathing every dark memory with light.

Remy kissed her several times before pulling back, afraid of his weight hurting her. Reluctantly, he slipped out of her. Still, he kept her pinned, one thigh over hers, looking down into her eyes. He framed her face with both hands. “Do you have any idea how I feel about you?”