Protect and Serve: Fox and Feral by Angela Knight

Author:Angela Knight
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
Published: 2011-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

“We’ve come so close to dying so many times,” I breathed against one of the hard little dimples in his skin left by jagged steel. “I’ve often thought how bitter it would be to lose you without ever making love to you.”

“I’ve had nightmares about your death.” His fingers slipped into my hair and cradled my face, tipping it up for another of those mind-searing kisses. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I’d have nothing.”

I was breathing hard by the time his lips left mine. I wanted him naked, and I reached for the release over his hip.

He groaned in relief as the groin section sprang open, and his erection tumbled out into my waiting hands. “Thank you. That damn cup was cutting into my dick.”

“I can see why.” Feral’s cock was, if anything, even more impressive than some of my fantasies had painted him. Thick, long, and hot, with a vein snaking its length, its head an elegant ruddy cap pearled in pre-cum.

I had to bend and taste him. A flick of my tongue over that clear bead first, tasting its salty heat. Then I drew him into my mouth, suckling until he moaned. I cupped his balls, stroking softly, savoring the warm, furry softness. Widening my mouth, I started working his shaft in deeper, seeing how much of him I could take. Loving the silken texture of his skin, the pure musk of Feral’s masculine scent, the taste of him, dark and raw and tempting.

His hands stroked through my hair. “If you keep that up, I’m going to come. And that’s not what I’ve got in mind at all.”

“So get naked,” I told him, “and show me.”

He started thumbing the releases on his remaining armor, and I helped him pull it off.

At last we sat back on our knees and just looked at each other, drinking in the sight of bare skin and hungry eyes.

God, I’ll remember Jim Feral silhouetted against the New York skyline until they put me in the ground. His skin was damp with sweat, and it caught the jeweled light, the curving contours of muscle gleaming with a sheen like antique satin. His strong chest narrowed to a lean, tight waist, and his cock jutted at me in lusty demand over those powerful warrior’s thighs.

“God, I love your tits,” he told me with that blunt Marine honesty. “They’re so damn pretty and pale, and I love the way they fill my hands.” He reached out a hand, and a rough thumb brushed back and forth across one nipple. I let my head fall back and savored each tiny flick.

He bent his sable head and sucked my nipple into his mouth. The creamy pleasure dragged a ragged moan out of me. He laughed, a low rumble of triumph, and pushed me down on the grass again. The cool green blades caressed my hot skin like the brush of feathers.

As I panted, the scent of soil, flowers, and green growing life flooded my head, overcoming New York’s normal reek.

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