Leopard's Prey

teeth drove deep, long, razor-sharp canines, in a holding bite. She cried out and thrashed beneath him, but he refused to let go. Deep inside, that wild, feral other rose until she felt an itch running like waves under her skin and fire burned between her thighs. She dropped her head, panting away the pain, accepting of Remy and his crazy, rough sex. Whatever was inside of her embraced him. Needed him. Wanted him. And was every bit as savage as he was.
    Slowly the teeth slipped from her skin and his tongue lapped at the wounds. He began to move, sending streaks of fire racing over her body, burning through her veins and settling into her battered sheath. She never wanted him to stop. The sensations were stronger than ever, pleasure rushing over her while he slammed into her with furious intent. She couldn’t stop the all-encompassing orgasm, the way it took her belly and breasts and rode down to her thighs.
    Remy caught her by the hair and jerked her head back, adding a myriad of sensations burning through her body, increasing the strength of her muscles contracting around his shaft. Still he didn’t stop and neither did her orgasm. Her body shuddered and pulsed in frenzied insanity. She heard herself scream as another orgasm ripped through her. Remy emptied himself into her as she pulsed around him.
    Too weak to hold herself up, Bijou would have collapsed on the floor if Remy hadn’t held on to her.
    “What in the world did you do to me?” she whispered. “What’s wrong with me?”
    “Nothin’ is wrong with you,” Remy assured, kissing her spine.
    She made a derisive sound in her throat. There was something very much wrong with her, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. “I can’t move. I really can’t. I’m so exhausted I think I’ll sleep here. Just leave me.”
    Remy slipped out of her. She didn’t turn around, but let herself collapse right there on the floor. She closed her eyes and heard him move. The bed creaked and groaned as if a heavy weight had landed on it. She heard ripping as if something tore apart the heavy drapes or the walls, but honestly, she wasn’t about to lift her head, even if she could. It felt good to just lie there and listen to her heart beating semi-normally.
    The terrible thunder was gone, and for the moment, she felt sated, the burning gone between her legs. Terrified the sensation would start again, she kept her eyes closed tight so she couldn’t see Remy, afraid he was the trigger. She hoped she’d just go to sleep and wake up to find the entire episode was only one of her erotic dreams about him. True, she’d never quite dreamt so vividly or imagined in any way that sex with Remy would be so perfect or brutal, but in her own right she was an artist and entitled to a vivid imagination.
    She heard the water go on in the bathtub and smelled lavender. She couldn’t move. Remy had to leave. It was nice of him to run a bath for her, which she was certain he was doing, but she wasn’t about to face him even if she could. Which she couldn’t because she couldn’t get off the floor. Satisfied that she made perfect sense, she kept her eyes closed.
    “Come on, Blue. We have to get you into hot water.”
    She managed to wiggle her fingers, trying to shoo him. “Go away. Really, Remy. I’m not movin’. I’m sleepin’ right here and I’ll think about all this tomorrow.”
    He laughed softly. “If you don’ get into that bath,
chere
, you won’ be walkin’ tomorrow. Come on.”
    Ignoring her murmur of protest and the hand that tried to bat him away, Remy lifted her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. It wasn’t fair that he still had strength and she was virtually spaghetti. Every muscle felt deliciously bruised and battered. Her body felt used and decadent.
    In a horrible, secret part of her mind, she was elated—shocked, of course—but so intensely happy that she had it in her to keep up just a bit with Remy Boudreaux. Or even that he wanted her for a single night, let alone made her state that she was his alone.
    She realized her thighs were sticky and she was an absolute mess. How did a woman gracefully retreat after crazy sex? She had no idea, but she had to open her eyes soon and she could tell he was staring down at her. She could feel those piercing, intelligent eyes focused on her face.
    Bijou took a deep breath and opened her eyes, looking, not at him, but at the room she rented from Saria. One wall had a caved-in spot with several