Raphael: Bayou Bites (Bayou Heat Book 1)

his knees and spread her legs as far as the jeans at her ankles would allow. He was in a hurry, hungry, not to be played with. She knew this Raph… She adored this Raph.
“The cat wants to lick you, ma cher,” he said, sliding those talented fingers back inside her and curling them into a C, massaging that soft spot he knew made her scream. “Wants your cream on its tongue, down its throat.”
Ashe cried out into the balmy bayou air as Raphael drew his tongue through the wet lips of her pussy. Slowly. Up and down. Up and down. While he played her G-spot.
Knees weak and trembling, Ashe could barely speak, barely breathe, but she forced out the words, “And what…about my mate? What does he want?”
Raph drew back slightly and glanced up. With his long hair, stunning eyes and chiseled features, he looked like a statue in the light of the purple moon. A god.
Her god.
Her breathing labored, lips dry, need on the edge of reason, she reached up and gripped a thick branch for support. She knew what was coming.
“To please you,” he said with a satisfied grin, his mouth wet with her juices, as he slid a third finger inside her. “Only to please you, ma cher. And your mate is starving. Ravenous. I’m afraid he’ll never have enough.”
His eyes flashed before his head dropped, disappearing between her legs. Ashe gripped the cool branch, desperate for support as her knees threatened to give out completely. His mouth was like liquid fire as he suckled her clit, his tongue like the flames, sending her down, down, deep into the caves of sweet rapture. Her mind was blank, her skin so sensitive it made her want to cry out with every waft of night air that struck her.
She wanted him.
Inside her.
So desperately.
That extraordinary cock that gave her unbridled pleasure, as well as their sweet, rebellious, wonderful child.
But her mind and throat and tongue could form no words, much less give a demand. All the trio would allow her were shallow breaths and frantic whimpers as her body raged and surged with the need to release. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked down. At her massive, impressive male—her sexy warrior—on his knees, one hand lost inside her, working her G-spot, the other splaying her pussy lips as his tongue danced over her clit.
And then she saw canines descend as he suckled her swollen bud into his mouth…the tips of his fangs piercing the sensitive skin around her clit ever so gently.
Her belly clenched and her hips slammed forward.
“Oh, Goddess!” she cried out. “Raph…fuck!”
Waves of torment, of pleasure, of white-hot electricity coursed through her. She couldn’t see or think or hold herself up. The waves just kept on crashing. Over and over. Her clit filling with blood, her heart filling with love.
Until her grip on the branch above her failed…and she dropped boneless into her mate’s waiting arms.

Chapter Three
Crouching in the damp grass, I watch the tiny fawn sip from the clear water of the channel.
This is my prey.
My claws lengthen, digging into the mossy ground. But I don’t pounce. Instead I watch in fascination as the doe lifts her head and flicks back her ears. She’s young enough to still have spots on her light brown coat, and her legs are thin and wobbly. She quivers. Maybe she knows I’m here.
Watching.
Waiting.
But she doesn’t run. Instead she searches through the shadows, meeting my gaze with big, trusting brown eyes.
A purr rumbles in my throat. There’s a magic in the air this night. A sense of peace that soothes the beast inside me.
Settling on the soft ground, I lower my head to my paws and allow my heavy eyes to close.
Even death needs a nap…
Raphael led the way through the thick foliage, hyperaware of the female at his side. Her pale ivory skin, her eyes that were as velvet dark as the night sky. Her intoxicating scent.
He’d hoped that the raw urgency of her release would ease the tension and frustration that hissed and crackled around her like a cloud of hornets. But strangely, it seemed only to have intensified it. As if she was angry with herself for having given in to the intimacy.
The thought opened a wound deep inside his chest.
How had they come to this point? He’d heard about other mated pairs that had conflicts. Some that had even ended in the two unable to live in the same space. Mother Nature wasn’t perfect.
But not him and Ashe. They were…perfect together.
Two halves that made one glorious whole. And Soyala had only added to the perfection.
They should be rejoicing in their blessings. So why did Ashe still look as if she’d swallowed a rotten andouille sausage?
They were nearing the far channel when the silence threatened to overwhelm Raph. He was the head of the Diplomatic faction, for fuck’s sake. He was trained to smooth over the most difficult situations, and bring together sworn enemies.
So why couldn’t he find the words to reach out to his mate?
Because she mattered…more than anything or anyone had ever mattered to him before.
The words whispered through the back of his mind, even as Ashe cleared her throat. Was she having the same difficulty as he was, trying to find the right words?
“Cat got your tongue?” she at last asked, her light tone only emphasizing the wary frustration that smoldered in her eyes.
He ducked beneath a branch that hung low over the narrow path. There’d been endless troubles and near disasters for the Pantera over the past years, but the one bright spot was the return of the Wildlands. They were once again lush and mysterious and magical.
“Just…thinking,” he told her.
“About work?”
“About us.”
She snorted, turning her head away so he couldn’t see her expression. Not that he needed to. His cat could catch the scent of her emotion.
Right now it was a tangled mess of anger, frustration, and unwavering devotion.
“That makes a change,” she muttered.
With a low