Leopard’s Blood Read Online Christine Feehan (Leopard People #10)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Leopard People Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
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“I need…” She gasped as his cock withdrew and then plunged deep again.

“I know what you need. Trust me. I need the same thing.”

She was grateful that he admitted she wasn’t alone in her wild needs. He couldn’t be rough enough. Or hard enough. He couldn’t be too deep. Or too anything. She needed his hands and his mouth and his teeth. She needed a wild mating without thought, only feeling that burning pleasure that bordered on pain. Maybe it was pain. She didn’t know or care. Only that he had to take away the terrible burning inside.

Her fingers formed fists in the sheets as she pushed back hard, catching his rhythm and adding to the strength of his plunging cock. He was like a wild machine, out of control, and yet at the same time in complete control. He certainly was in control of her, when she wasn’t. The orgasm took her by complete surprise. She felt the coiling tension gathering and gathering until she thought she might go insane.

“Let go,” he hissed.

She had no idea how. She’d never actually had an orgasm, and she’d never felt like this. The hunger. The need. The intensity. She didn’t know what to do, only that it had to stop before she lost her mind.

“Let go,” he said again. This time that soft velvety voice growled with command. His finger was on her clit, stroking, then flicking. Hard. That shocking bite started a tsunami. It grew and grew, sending waves of that pleasure-pain swamping her, taking her on a wild ride she had never been on.

She felt the heat of his release, hot splashes of his seed deep inside her. He collapsed over top of her, his weight taking her to the mattress, pinning her there. All she wanted to do was sleep. She kept her eyes closed. The sound of his breathing was soothing to her. His body kept hers warm in the cool night air. All around them the sounds of the swamp created a familiar lullaby.

She woke to pure fire. Rolling onto her back to try to ease the way her skin felt so inflamed, she tried to piece together where she was. She couldn’t think with the flames burning through her, scorching her. Her breasts ached, her nipples two pinpoints of pain. Her sex didn’t just ache – the fire was so hot it was excruciating. She moaned and writhed, tears forming behind her eyes.

“It isn’t going to stop,” she whispered in despair. She’d humiliated herself and had sex with a perfect, nameless, faceless stranger, and yet it hadn’t stopped.

“I’m here.” His voice came out of the darkness. He loomed over her, tall for a shifter, broad-shouldered, the heavy roped muscles of their kind. His hair was shockingly blond, his eyes a rare, crystal blue-green.

He knelt between her legs, gripped her thighs, fingers digging into her soft skin. His eyes staring with the complete focus of a leopard into hers, he yanked her thighs apart. “You’re mine,” he hissed. Anger simmered beneath the velvet of his voice. His hand stroked her center, taking her breath. “Your female belongs to my male, and you belong to me.”

She could barely hear him with the hunger roaring through her, crashing in her ears, burning through her center until she wanted to scream. His fingers weren’t doing enough. Barely touching her. Circling her clit, never touching it. Her hips thrashed, and he gripped her harder.

“Say it,” he snapped.

She would have promised him anything at that point. She didn’t want to talk to him. She was using him. She knew that and it shamed her, but she was desperate. “I’m yours,” she hissed between her teeth.

He rewarded her with a finger pushing into her. Just like before, she felt tight, as if her muscles had clenched down and now he was having to open her all over again. The thickness of his finger took her breath, robbed her of the ability to process anything, let alone have a conversation with him. She didn’t understand why he was angry, unless he knew that she was using him and didn’t like it.

She didn’t care what it was, only that he get inside her and take away the terrible burn. The emptiness. The need and hunger that wouldn’t go away. “Hurry,” she pleaded. “Please.” She even hated that, asking him, practically begging him.

She was free. She had a life. She didn’t have to ask for anything, and yet here she was. She should be the one angry. All she could think about was the way her body demanded his. That need that wouldn’t go away.

He pressed the head of his cock into her entrance and hissed, his eyes still holding hers captive. She couldn’t look away, mesmerized by him, by that look of utter possession stamped deep in the lines of his face. He looked like sin incarnate – the devil taking her.


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