Primal Instincts Read online

  “That’s it, little one. Come in my mouth.”

  She began trembling against Chale’s mouth as he ravished her with dark hunger. Sparks shot through her body and she started to pant.

  Chale changed the tempo. His fast steady thrusts brought her to the point of no return. Giving her no reprieve, he made another pass with his tongue, showering her with pleasure beyond her wildest imagination, driving her into a state of aroused euphoria, making her feel wild, dizzy, feverish. As he continued with his mind-blowing erotic assault, an explosion tore through her and she nearly blacked out.

  Her sweet cream poured endlessly into Chale’s open mouth. He lapped at her liquid heat, moaning his approval.

  When her tremors subsided, Chale slid up her body and pressed his mouth to hers. She could taste her sweetness on his lips. He pushed his cock against her midriff, his aroused scent calling out to her. Her mouth watered, and she wanted to lave him with her tongue.

  Desperation fueled her. With single-minded determination, she gyrated against him and whimpered. “Please,” she begged. “Let me taste you.”

  He nodded to his warriors, a silent command, and they went to work removing her shackles. Once the task was completed, Chale discarded his loincloth, then gripped her shoulders and guided her downward.

  She settled on her knees before him, taking pleasure in his beautiful cock. She sheathed his shaft in her hands and then licked the juices pearling on the tip. A low moan welled up from his throat.

  Olivia pulled him into her mouth, going as deep as possible, with no chance of ever swallowing his entire length. He was far too big for that.

  She began working her tongue over his cock, one hand going to his balls, cradling and massaging his heavy sac. Chale’s body began moving urgently against her mouth.

  Standing beside her, the two warriors began to masturbate, arousing her even more. The entire scene was so wild, so erotic.

  Her body grew tight, screaming for her to impale herself on his cock. The need to fuck this virile warrior pulled at her. She wanted him so much she couldn’t even think straight. The need to ride him, to feel his gorgeous, engorged cock deep inside her, destroyed her ability to form a rational thought.

  His cock swelled in her mouth, filling with heated blood, and she knew he was close. His body trembled. He pulled in a breath, and then, taking her by surprise, gripped her head and tugged her off.

  She blinked up at him, not understanding. But when her glance met his, she read his intention. A shiver skipped down her spine.

  Chale dropped to the floor and pulled her on top of him. He gripped her hips and guided her onto his erect cock.

  “Fuck me, little one.”

  She moaned in acquiescence and impaled herself on him. “Yesssss…” she cried out, her voice a strangled whisper as her pussy swallowed his entire length. She rocked against him, unable to think about anything but the pleasure. A barrage of sensations closed over her and her body convulsed. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp.

  Her hips pitched forward, driving him impossibly deeper. He powered upward, and together they reached a fevered pitch.

  As she rode him furiously, nothing mattered. Not time, not space and not even her future. All that mattered was this man, and the pleasure he was giving her. It was addictive, all-consuming. Potent.

  And in that instant, she knew it.

  She was hooked on Estela.

  Chale’s hands bit into her hips as he slammed into her. She wet her lips, needing desperately for him to ease the escalating tension inside her.

  Perspiration speckled their skin; their bodies fused as one. Chale plunged deeper, drawing out the pleasure. Her heart raced, making her breathless. She leaned forward; their tongues joined and tangled. She felt fierce, out of control. She cried out in ecstasy.

  Her hands raced over him with aroused eagerness. Her erotic whimpers filled the room as the rippling waves of an orgasm took hold. When Chale pulsed inside her, she stilled her movements and let go, coming all over his cock. He threw his head back and came with a growl.

  A moment later she collapsed against his chest in a rumpled heap. Although her body was bruised and sore, her blood was still pulsing hot, her libido aching for so much more. “I don’t want to stop, ever,” she whimpered, completely overwhelmed by what she was feeling. “I don’t ever want this to be over between us.”

  After a long moment, Chale broke the quiet. “Now do you understand, little one?” A warm palm cupped her chin, bringing them face-to-face.

  She nodded, completely understanding: she could never, ever introduce Estela to her world. The flower was far too powerful, all-consuming and addictive for that, especially if it landed in the wrong hands.

  When Chale’s hand traveled over her back and stroked her flesh, she trembled against him.

  As though sensing she still had unsatiated needs, Chale found her mouth and kissed her slowly, passionately. “No worries, Olivia. I will keep fucking you until Estela works her way out of your system.”

  Chapter Four

  Jordon inhaled the sweetness of the Estela flower lacing the air, its magical scent the only urging she needed to act, to show her submission to the man called Amador. She went into action, never looking at Olivia or seeking her friend’s approval. Perhaps Jordon feared one look at her friend would deliver them both to sanity and reality, would root them both in the logic and conservative actions of two scientists, rather than the desires of two women. She didn’t want conservative, didn’t want logic—Jordon wanted fantasy. And so she acted, moving forward and falling to her knees in submission before the dark-haired warrior meant to be her protector, acclaimed master of Estela, which translated into master of her desires.

  “Teach me,” she whispered, her hands settling on his strong thighs. His muscles flexed beneath her palms, and electricity raced up her fingers, her arms, her shoulders.

  Jordon’s eyes locked with Amador’s darker ones; the connection sent a sizzle of awareness through her body as if she had been touched—everywhere. Jordon sucked in a breath, shocked by the unnatural reaction to this man; her nipples tightened, her mind conjuring images of his lips brushing them, his tongue teasing them. Her breasts grew fuller, her core aching and wet. How was this possible? Was the incense of the flower enough to send her senses into overdrive, or was it simply this man called Amador? In a far corner of her mind she reminded herself how deprived she was, how needy. It had been two years since her divorce—two years of abstinence. Sex had seemed complicated. Until now. This was the perfect deliverance from a complicated past.

  Someone offered Amador a crock. Jordon didn’t look away from him to see who, nor did she care. She was lost in the deep, dark depths of this man’s eyes, the fantasy of where they would deliver her—where he would deliver her.

  Amador eased the bowl into her hand, wrapping her fingers around it as he covered her hand with his. “Drink,” he ordered, his English laden with a sexy accent. With words low and resonant, he added, “Let the flower take you beyond your inhibitions, beyond your fears,” and his words sent a shiver down her spine.

  Fear. Was that in her eyes? Fear? Is that what he saw when he looked at her? She wasn’t afraid. Was she? Was there fear behind her charge forward into submission? Had she denied herself satisfaction because of fear? No. She wouldn’t go there—to a past bad relationship and a lot of pain she had buried deep below the surface. So why was she even thinking about it now? The here and now was about science, not emotion, not her life. Jordon shoved aside the personal thoughts. She didn’t want to think about the past, or even the future—only the opportunity the present moment offered her, the secrets of Estela.

  “Drink,” her warrior urged again, gently prodding with his sensual voice, lifting the cup to her lips.

  Yes, please, she screamed in her mind, doing as he ordered. She sipped the sweet beverage, hungry for exploration, for the answers to the questions burning in her mind about Estela, about herself. Hungry for the satisfaction her b
ody craved already with a mere inhalation of the flower’s incense.

  Seconds later, contents of the cup emptied, Jordon gasped as Amador pushed to his feet and scooped her into his strong arms, that broad chest like a wall against her body.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, barely able to find her voice, her arm wrapped around his neck, his dark hair tickling her cheek.

  “Protecting you,” he declared. “I thought you would be more comfortable elsewhere when the heat consumes you.”

  “Heat?” she questioned. “I don’t feel hot. I feel—” Suddenly heat rushed through her veins. She could barely breathe for the intensity of it. Her skin tingled. Everything tingled. “Oh, God.” She had on too many clothes. Needed them off. She reached for her shirt, tried to tug it off but couldn’t. “I feel, I need, I—”

  “I look forward to finding out exactly what you need, cariña,” Amador murmured, continuing forward, taking her into a room she barely glanced at—a fire burning somewhere near, a bed, chairs, a room that looked nothing like a cavern. Nothing like anything but a pleasure palace. “We are here, Jordon, to the place where you will discover your every desire.”

  She blinked, the sound of her name on his lips erotic, enticing. This man got to her in a big way, this stranger, this warrior. The idea of having a protector was arousing—that he was her protector, her pleasure giver and taker.

  “Did I tell you my name?” she asked, realizing she wasn’t sure she had. Her mind was foggy with lust, though, and the question was dismissed as soon as she spoke it, the demands of her body taking over.

  Jordon curled into him as he carried her; this sexy warrior meant to satisfy her, and that is exactly what she wanted—satisfaction. The desire to touch and be touched controlling her now, ruling her mind and body.

  Her hands traveled Amador’s perfect body as he took several more steps, his sleek dark skin feeding her need, taut muscle flexing under her command. “What I need is you,” she whispered, her gaze traveling to his neck, his lips, meaning those words in a soul-deep way. He called to her beyond understanding. The reason was unimportant. The demand imperative. “I must kiss you. And touch you. I need—”

  But she never finished the sentence. Suddenly she was in the center of a massive round bed. She scurried to sit, her fingers curling behind her into the black silk covering of the massive mattress beneath her. Two gorgeous naked men appeared by her side, knees on the mattress. There was no time to think, hardly time to register Amador standing at the end of the bed watching. The men ripped her clothes away. Somewhere in a far corner of her mind she was aware of candles flickering, lining the ceilings, the floors, lighting the erotic paintings that clung to the walls in bright, brilliant colors. Except these things, these images were distant; her burn, her ache, was ever-present.

  She wanted to scream out and say she wanted Amador, and him alone, but her body betrayed that inner thought. The touch of these two men’s hands on her skin inflamed her with desire. She was naked, with one naked man behind her, one in front, their hands exploring, caressing. They touched her everywhere, yet she couldn’t feel enough of them. She arched into them, begged and pleaded for more. Her skin sizzled with each touch; her nipples ached as fingers teased them, tongues flicked the hardened peaks. And her core dripped, clenched, ached. Her legs spread, her fingers touching her sensitive flesh, her eyes seeking out those of Amador. “You,” she managed to whisper urgently as one of the men tweaked her nipple with his teeth. “Not them.”

  Amador stared at her several seconds, his gaze traveling her body, stroking her with heat before finding her gaze again. Holding her stare, he spoke. “Come here,” he ordered, still at the end of the bed.

  The men sauntered away from her as if the words Amador spoke had staked a claim—his eyes certainly did. They showed possessiveness, ownership. And it aroused Jordon. Aroused her to the point of damn near making her orgasm just thinking about him taking her.

  Jordon had always fantasized about a strong, dominant man in bed, one who knew how to take a woman in all the right ways. But until now, she’d never given herself to one, fearful he’d take more than she was willing to offer. Here and now, though, there was no denying her wants and needs. Nor was there any fear of facing the morning and finding that her submission had come with a price. Desire, perhaps desire driven by Estela, demanded she submit as she wished to. It demanded she allow herself to live the fantasy of being submissive. She’d felt it from the moment she fell to her knees before Amador. He was her master of the moment. Jordon swallowed hard, excitement lodging her breath in her throat.

  Slowly Jordon repositioned herself on the bed, crawling toward Amador, then rising to her knees in front of him. She resisted the urge to touch him, her instincts telling her she must wait.

  He stared at her, his dark eyes intense, hot. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You,” she whispered, unable to find her voice, desire heavy in her limbs. “I want you.”

  A long pause, then, “I’m not sure you’re ready for what I require of you.” His eyes brushed her nipples, and her core spasmed in response.

  “I am,” she insisted, wanting him, needing him, ready to beg, which was beyond what she would expect of herself, but no less true. In a stronger voice she repeated her declaration. “I am.”

  He studied her for a few long, intense moments. “Turn around and face forward.” Jordon hesitated, a tiny slice of her mind hanging on to the need for control. Amador’s expression softened. His hand caressed her cheek, and goose bumps shivered their way up her spine in reaction. “You are truly strong, cariña. Estela is powerful, yet your fears still linger. Release them. Release them to me. Trust me. I will not hurt you.”

  She let out a shaky breath; his touch was gentle, contrasting with his powerful body, his warrior-like appearance. Jordon did, indeed, trust him, she realized. Why? She didn’t know. She didn’t give trust easily. It scared her that she wanted to now, but it was also extremely erotic to give herself so completely to a stranger.

  Without a word, she acted, turning to do as ordered, giving him her back. She heard movement behind her, the swish of cloth, and Jordon knew he was now naked; her mind conjured images of what he must look like, aroused, ready for her. Images that had her dying to turn around, to see for herself.

  But before she could cave in to that desire, he was there, his hands on her waist, pulling her back against his body, settling his cock between her legs, his hands palming her breasts. Jordon whimpered at the feel of his body, his touch. Her body arched into him. His lips brushed her neck, and then his teeth.

  “Lean forward on your hands and knees,” he ordered, his voice low and taut.

  “I can’t,” she replied, not able to bring herself to pull away from him.

  “You can and you will,” he quickly said, his voice terser now as he pressed her forward, insistence reinforced with words and actions. When she was on all fours, his hand settled on her lower back. “Do not move until I give permission.” His hands slid over her backside, palming it, possessive aggression in his touch. “Understand?”

  “Yes,” she hissed as he pressed her thighs farther apart, his fingers probing between her legs, teasing the sensitive flesh there, rewarding her for submission. Seconds later the long, hard length of him was there, stroking her, teasing her, but never giving her what she wanted—him inside her. Yet release crept up on her; her body threatened to orgasm without him entering her.

  As if he sensed how close she was, he pulled back, taking her away from the ultimate sensation she sought, only a moment before she tumbled over into it. “Amador, please!” she cried out, trying to turn.

  His hands held her hips, keeping her in place. “Patience, cariña. The best comes to those who wait.”

  But she needed to come, with an urgency that hurt—the ache of desire thrusting through her, as she wanted his cock to. She would have said as much, but he was suddenly on top of her, pushing her flat against the mattress as he settled car
efully over her, framing her with just the right amount of delicious weight.

  His lips were near her ear. “Is this what you want?” he demanded, his erection sliding along the wet folds of her body.

  “Yes,” she gasped, trying to lift her hips upward, trying to make him come to her. “Inside me. I want you inside me.”

  “Soon,” he promised, his hand sliding down her ribs, over her waist, flattening on one butt cheek.

  “Now,” she demanded. “Now.”

  But he didn’t give her what she wanted. Instead, he slid back and forth along her core, teasing and teasing. She moved against him, wild with the burn, squirming, aching, begging. And finally—finally—he gave in to her pleading. Amador slid inside her with one hard, deep thrust, burying his cock inside her.

  She cried out with the joy of being filled, with the relief that lasted only seconds. For one need turned to another—simple penetration wasn’t enough. Nor was it for him apparently. He answered her silent cries for movement with a hard pumping of his hips. Over and over, he pounded into her, driving his erection to the hilt, driving her pleasure to the edge and then tumbling her into release. Without warning, her body clenched around his cock, spasms ripping through her with more force than she thought possible, pleasure hitting nerve endings she didn’t know existed. Even her fingertips tingled.

  When her body calmed, she went limp. Amador responded by turning her over and kissing her, a seduction in and of itself. For one minute she was satisfied; the next, aroused and ready again. It seemed she hadn’t gotten enough of Amador. And as he slid back inside her, still erect, she was relieved to know he, too, desired more.

  The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, unbelievable. How could anyone get enough of something this good? How could anyone say no to this kind of pleasure? If she had doubted Estela’s power, she no longer did. Estela, and Amador, had her attention…and her full submission.

  What must have been hours later, Jordon collapsed on top of Amador, and amazingly, the sweet bliss of relaxation slid through her body. For hours she’d been driven to seek that very sensation, begging Amador for more and more. Finally Estela had worn off, and she felt the comforting sensation of being sated.