Street Game

  "Again, baby, this time go all the way," he ordered and replaced his fingers with his mouth. His tongue speared her and she bucked against him hard, her breath exploding out of her aching lungs. She heard herself sob as the fire streaked through her. Her body thrashed, but he held her firmly, his tongue teasing and stroking, insisting on his way. That fast she flew apart, an explosion of her senses ripping through her body like a hurricane.

  Before she could catch her breath, he pulled her thighs apart and stood over her, his cock in his hand, poised at her pulsing entrance. He waited until her eyes locked with his and then he plunged deep, driving through her tight, sensitive folds. Fiery hot. Velvet tight. His body reacted, the scorching heat rushing through his veins like a drug. Addicting. Real. His.

  He held her still, open to his invasion as he plunged deep over and over, savoring the grasping, viselike grip of her muscles surrounding him with fire. She made him hot. She made him wild. She made him forget everything ugly in the world. There was only Jaimie with her body and her love surrounding him with such mind-numbing pleasure he sometimes thought he might not survive it.

  He could feel flames licking over his skin, surrounding his cock, streaking through his body, down his thighs, up into his belly to settle into a rolling ball of fire. "Damn, baby, you're so fucking tight. So hot." Another low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound so animalistic it shocked even him. Nothing mattered but the fire building.

  Her muscles tightened around him, locking down, imprisoning him in a velvet inferno. "Don't. Baby, you've got to stop or I'm never going to hold on." He wanted to be there forever. Live there. Just stay locked inside of her where fire purified them both. Streaks of flames blazed through his cock, teased his thighs, and raced down his legs to his toes.

  He plunged deep into that scalding heat and she writhed again. His breath hissed out, a harsh, rough demand. "Stay still, Jaimie."

  Pure need rode him now, a thousand demons intent on prolonging the ecstasy. He set his teeth and gripped her legs, jerking them over his arms as he levered over her, thrusting hard over and over while her soft mewling cries accompanied the frantic, harsh rhythm he set. The tension grew and stretched in him. He felt the boiling in his balls, as they drew tighter and tighter. He didn't take his eyes from her face, watching her every inflection, every transparent expression, each nuance. Every time her breath hitched or she arched her body, or thrashed her head, he slammed home, driving deeper, claiming all of her, taking her body for his own.

  Her cries crescendoed as the tension wound tighter and tighter and the fire built into an all-consuming blaze. This was the moment, this tightening of her body to the point of pain around his cock, strangling, gripping, drawing thick jets of seed from him so that ecstasy tore through him, taking him soaring. She screamed, the music he'd been waiting for, and he caught her flailing hands, anchoring her as her body rippled and pulsed, milking his.

  He collapsed over her, his hair damp, a fine sheen of sweat glistening over his skin while the aftershocks rippled and danced around him, her muscles tightening and releasing, taking the last of his seed from his body.

  Mack pressed kisses over her belly and between her breasts and then rolled over and stared at the ceiling so that both of them lay half on and half off the bed. "You know one of the things I missed most?" Besides her sense of humor. Her brain. The way she looked at him as if he was the best man in the world. He turned his head to look at her. "The way you always woke me up in the morning."

  He couldn't imagine the feeling her mouth created, that warm, amazing pleasure, the moment of complete awareness; there was only reality or nothing. Fantasy didn't cut it, not when he'd had the real thing. She paid attention to detail. She always had. What turned him on. What made him hard as a rock. What made him lose his mind and thrust helplessly into her silken mouth. Jaimie always made him feel as though she loved every part of him, as though bringing him pleasure was her pleasure.

  "I missed it too," she admitted. She touched her fingers against his until he tangled them together. "I love making you happy, Mack. I always have."

  He rolled onto his side and propped himself up, pushing damp curls from her face. "I need you to tell me the truth, baby. Can you live with what I do? I swear to you, I'll leave it for you. We'll find something else."

  She shook her head. "I know what you need in your life, Mack. I've always been about making you happy. I like keeping your house, and cooking for you. I love waking you up in the morning and meeting every need you have. I've always loved being yours. I needed to know what we have isn't all about sex and I've learned that. We're so hot together, so wild and out of control sometimes, that I needed to know there were feelings involved."

  "See, honey." He leaned in to kiss her. "I just don't get that. How could you not have known?"

  She smiled at him. "I guess women need the words sometimes, Mack."

  His teeth flashed at her. "You're going to be getting words, honey. We've got to get you packed before they call me. You know it will be soon."

  "I'm going to work, not just stay home naked waiting for you."

  "I know you will. You always have. And you want a baby, we'll have a baby."

  "Do you?" Her gaze remained steady on his.

  A slow smile warmed her. "If I'd thought about it before, I'd have realized having you tied down with children only helps my cause. Sure. I can handle a few kids."

  "That boy, Dae-sub, he was an amazingly stoic teenager. He was tortured."

  "He's his father's son. And he protected Mi-cha as best he could. I have to say, honey, I didn't feel too sorry for Armstice thinking about him in the hands of Dae-sub's father."

  "Sergeant Major said the Special Ops team drove them right to the front gate of the Korean embassy, got out, and walked away, and just left the car."

  "A guard was waiting. He drove the car onto the embassy grounds and they were all officially taken into custody. The great part was, they had no idea what happened or how they got there. The only one to escape us was Blaine. He was outside the embassy, waiting to call reporters and film the kid's death. If North Korea or China manages to pick him up, all to the good."

  She sat up, trying in vain to tame her disheveled curls. "I hope the general can figure out who paid Armstice to kidnap those children."

  "Believe me, they'll find out," he said grimly. "And did you read the newspaper report on Jefferson? They gave him a wonderful burial. A heart attack. Very sad. A good man cut down in his prime." He glanced at his watch. "We'd better get moving. We've got a lot of packing to do. I'm not going without you and if they call . . ."

  "You've got to go."

  "And you'll be coming without all of your fancy equipment."

  Jaimie straddled his body, settling over his hips, her knees on either side of his thighs. "Are you absolutely certain we have to go right this minute?"

  He reached up to wrap a hand around the nape of her head, slowly pulling her down to him. "I guess we've got a little time." He fastened his mouth to hers and just let himself drown.

  Keep reading for a sneak preview

  of the next exciting book

  by Christine Feehan

  WILD

  FIRE

  Available May 2010

  from Jove Books!

  He heard the birds first. Thousands of them. All varieties, all singing a different song. To an untrained ear the sound would have been deafening, but it was music to him. Deep inside, his leopard leapt and roared, grateful to inhale the scent of the rain forest. He stepped off the boat and onto the rickety pier, his eyes on the canopy rising like green towers in every direction. His heart shifted. It didn't matter what country he was in--the rain forest was home. Any rain forest, but here, in the wilds of Panama, he had been born. As an adult he'd chosen to make his home in the Borneo rain forest, but his roots were here. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Panama.

  He turned his head, looking around, savoring the mingled scents and noises of the jungle. Each s
ound, from the cacophony of the birds to the shrieks of the howler monkeys to the hum of the insects, contained a wealth of information if one knew how to read it. He was a master. Conner Vega flexed his muscles, a small shrug only, but his body moved with life, every muscle, every cell reacting to the forest. He wanted to tear his clothes from his body and run free and wild as his nature demanded. He looked civilized in his jeans and simple T-shirt, but there wasn't a civilized bone in his body.

  "It's calling to you," Rio Santana said, glancing around at the few people along the river. "Hang on. We have to get out of sight. We've got an audience."

  Conner didn't look at him or the others maneuvering small boats up the river. His heart pounded so the blood thundered through his veins, ebbing and flowing like the sap in the trees, like the moving carpet of insects on the forest floor. The shades of green--every shade in the universe--were beginning to band with color as his leopard filled him, reaching for the freedom of his homeland.

  "Hang on," Rio insisted between clenched teeth. "Damn it, Conner, we're in plain sight. Control your cat."

  The Panama-Colombia leopards were the most dangerous of all the tribes, the most unpredictable, and Conner had always been a product of his genetics. Of all the men on the team, he was the most lethal. Fast, ferocious, deadly in a fight. He could disappear into the forest and disrupt an enemy camp nightly until they were so distraught, haunted by a ghostly assassin no one saw, they abandoned their position. He was invaluable, and yet volatile, and very hard to control.

  They needed his particular skills on this mission. Being born in the Panama rain forest to the tribe of leopard people indigenous to the area would give them a distinct advantage should they come across the elusive--and very dangerous--shifters. Conner also gave the team the advantage of knowing the local Indian tribes. The rain forest, most of it unexplored, even for other shifters, could be difficult to navigate. But with Conner growing up there and using it as his personal playground, they wouldn't be slowed down when they needed to move fast.

  Conner's head turned in a slow freeze-frame movement indicative of a hunting leopard. He was close to shifting--too close. Heat poured off of him. The scent of the wild animal, a male in his prime, strong and cunning, ripping and clawing to break free, permeated the air.

  "It's been a year since I've been in a rain forest." Conner dropped his pack at Rio's feet. His voice was husky, almost a chuffing sound. "Much longer since I've been home. Let me go. I'll catch up with you at the base camp."

  It was a small miracle and a testimony to Conner's discipline that he waited for Rio's nod of consent before he began to walk fast toward the line of trees near the river. Six feet into the forest the sunlight became only a few dappled spots on the broad, leafy plants. The forest floor--layers of wood and vegetation--felt familiar and spongy beneath his feet.

  He unbuttoned his shirt, already wet with sweat. The oppressive heat and heavy humidity took its toll on most people, but to Conner, it was energizing. The natives wore a loincloth and little else for a reason. Shirts and pants grew wet fast, chafing the skin, causing rashes and sores that could quickly go septic out here. He peeled off his shirt and bent to unlace his boots, rolling the shirt and pushing it inside a boot for Rio to retrieve.

  He straightened, inhaling deeply, looking around at the vegetation surrounding him. Trees rose up to the sky, towering high like great cathedrals, a canopy so thick the rain fought to pierce the various-shaped leaves to hit the thick bushes and ferns below. Orchids and flowers vied with moss and fungus, covering every conceivable inch of the trunks as they climbed toward the open air and sunlight, trying to pierce the thick canopy.

  His animal moved beneath his skin, itching as he slipped out of his jeans and thrust them deep in the other boot. He needed to run free in his other form more than he needed just about anything. It had been so long. He took off sprinting through the trees, heedless of his bare feet, leaping over a rotten log as he reached for the change. He had always been a fast shifter, a necessity living in the rain forest surrounded by predators. He was neither fully leopard nor fully man, but a blend of both. Muscles wrenched, a satisfying pain as his leopard leapt to the forefront, taking over his form as his body bent and the ropes of muscles shifted beneath his thick fur.

  Where his feet had been, clawed paws padded easily over the spongy forest floor. He went up and over a series of downed trees and through thick brush. Ten more feet into the forest the sunlight disappeared altogether. The jungle had swallowed him and he breathed a sigh of relief. He belonged. His blood surged hotly in his veins as he raised his face and let his whiskers act like the radar they were. For the first time in months he was comfortable in his own skin. He stretched and padded deeper into the familiar wilderness.

  Conner preferred his leopard form to that of his man. He bore too many sins on his soul to be entirely comfortable as a human. The claw marks etched deep into his face attested to that, branding him for all time.

  He didn't like thinking too much about those scars and how they happened--or why he'd allowed Isabeau Chandler to inflict them upon him. He'd tried running to the United States, putting as much distance as he could between him and his woman--his mate--but he hadn't been able to shut out the look on Isabeau's face when she'd found out the truth about him. The memory haunted him day and night.

  He was guilty of one of the worst crimes his kind could commit. He had betrayed his own mate. He hadn't known she was his mate when he'd taken the job to charm her and get close to her father, but that didn't matter.

  The leopard lifted his face to the wind and pulled back his lips in a silent snarl. His paws sank silently into the decaying vegetation on the forest floor. He moved through the underbrush, his fur sliding silently along the leaves of numerous bushes. Periodically he stood up and raked his claws down the trunk of a tree, marking his territory, reestablishing his claim, letting the other males know he was home and someone to contend with. He'd taken this job to stay out of the Borneo rain forest where Isabeau lived. He didn't dare go there. Because he knew if he stayed there, eventually, he'd forget all about being civilized and he'd let his leopard free to find her, and she wanted nothing--nothing--to do with him.

  A low growl rumbled in his throat as he tried to choke off the memories. He burned for her. Night and day. It didn't matter that he'd put an ocean between them. Distance would never matter, now that he knew she was alive and he'd recognized her. He had all the traits of a leopard, the reflexes, the aggression and cunning, the ferocity and jealousy, but most of all the drive to find his mate and keep her. The man in him might understand jungle law was no longer a way his people could live, but here in the rain forest, he couldn't keep the primitive needs from rising sharp and strong.

  He thought coming back to his home would help, but instead, the wildness was on him, gripping him by the teeth, slamming into his body with urgent need until he wanted to rake and claw, to tear open an enemy and roar to the heavens. He wanted to track Isabeau down and claim her whether she wanted him or not. Unfortunately, his mate was a shifter as well, which meant she shared all the same ferocious traits, including fierce, abiding hatred.

  He looked up to the towering trees, the thick canopy shutting out the sunlight. Flowers wound up the tree trunks, a riot of color, vying with moss and fungus, all reaching toward the light above. Birds flitted from branch to branch, the canopy alive with constant motion, just as the spongy floor was with millions of insects. Beehives hung in great chunky masses, hidden by broad leaves, and snakes wound around the twisted limbs, nearly impossible to see amid the multitude of interlocking branches.

  He wanted to drink in the beauty of it all. He wanted to forget what he'd done to his own mate. She'd been so young and inexperienced, an easy target. Her father, a doctor, had been the way into the enemy camp. Get close to the daughter and you had the father. It was easy enough. Isabeau had fallen under his spell immediately, drawn to him not because of his animal magnetism, but because she had been his
in a previous life cycle. Neither had known.

  Unfortunately, he'd fallen just as deeply under her spell. He wasn't supposed to seduce her or sleep with her. He'd been obsessed with her, unable to keep his hands off of her. He should have known. She'd been so inexperienced. So innocent. And he'd used that to his advantage.

  He hadn't considered anything beyond his own pleasure. Like what would happen when the truth came out. That she didn't even know his real name. That she was a job and her father was the mark. He groaned and the sound came out a soft rumble.

  He had never crossed the line with an innocent woman. Not once in his entire career until Isabeau--human or leopard. She had not yet experienced the Han Vol Dan, a female leopard's heat, nor had her leopard emerged. It was the reason he hadn't recognized her as a leopard or as his mate. He should have. The flashes of erotic images in his head every time she was close, the way he couldn't think when he was with her: That alone should have tipped him off. He was only in his second life cycle and he hadn't recognized what was in front of him. The need burning in him so strong, growing stronger each time he saw her. He'd always been in control, but with her, a wildfire had swept through him, robbing him of common sense, and he'd made the ultimate mistake with a mark.

  He'd needed. He had burned. He tasted her in his mouth. Breathed her into his lungs. He'd slept with her. Deliberately seduced her. Reveled in her until she was stamped into his very bones. He'd given in to his instincts and he'd done irreparable damage to their relationship.

  Overhead a howler monkey screamed a warning and threw a twig at him. He didn't deign to look up, merely leapt into the low branches and made his way up the tree. The monkeys scattered, screaming in alarm. Conner leapt from branch to branch, climbing his way up to the forest highway. Branches overlapped from tree to tree, making it easy to navigate through the trees. Birds took to the air in alarm. Lizards and frogs scurried out of his way. A few snakes lifted their heads, but most ignored him as he padded on clawed paws steadily into the interior.

  As he made his way deeper into the forest, the sound of water was constant again. He had moved away from the river, but was coming up on another tributary and a series of three falls. The pools there were cool, he remembered. Often, when he was young, he'd swum in the pools and dozed on the flat boulders jutting out of the mountain.