Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) by N.J. Walters Page A

him slide more easily with each thrust.
    He pulled away and peppered her face with hard, desperate kisses—her forehead, her cheeks, her nose and her jawline. No spot was left unattended. Aimee moaned as he nipped at her throat before laving the tender spot with his tongue. There was an untamed quality about her dream lover that reached deep inside her and ignited a part of her that had lain dormant until now. It surprised her that she liked the fact he was slightly rough, untamed and totally unpredictable.
    He settled one of his massive hands over her right breast and squeezed. Her nipple stabbed at the center of his palm, a stark testament to her deep desire for him. He shifted lower and his hair brushed her skin, drawing another moan from deep within her. It felt exactly like the brush of fur—soft and decadent against her naked flesh. She longed to feel the sweep of his hair over other sensitive parts of her body.
    He swirled his tongue around her nipple before swiping over the puckered nub. His tongue was slightly rough in texture, adding to the erotic sensations rocketing through her body. Every nerve ending in Aimee’s body felt electrically charged, and her toes curled into the sheets. His mouth was warm and moist as it settled over her breast. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled.
    “Ohmygod,” she groaned, tunneling her fingers through his hair to keep him close.
    She felt his lips curve upward and knew he was smiling against her breast. She didn’t care if he found her amusing. Just so long as he didn’t stop what he was doing.
    He released her suddenly and blew on her damp flesh. She tried to drag him back, but he resisted. Goose bumps formed on her skin, sending a shiver of pleasure racing across her torso and down between her thighs.
    Shifting lower, he nibbled his way down her rib cage. Aimee hated the fact that his erection was no longer pressed against her, but she loved the feel of his mouth and lips and tongue against her skin. The man certainly knew how to press her buttons. She’d never felt this aroused before, every inch of her body on fire. Her skin, indeed, her entire being, cried out for completion, cried out for him.
    Her fingertips dug into his shoulders, gripping him tight. Muscles rippled. Once again, she marveled at the sheer size and bulk of her lover. He was solid, something to cling to as a wild maelstrom of emotions and sensations buffeted her.
    He stopped at her bellybutton and dipped his tongue inside, swirling it around. His hair tickled the sensitive skin of her stomach, and she giggled and groaned at the same time.
    He did it again and Aimee laughed. He raised his head. She froze, pinned by the intensity of his icy blue eyes. But they weren’t cold. No. They were hot, filled with unadulterated lust.
    Aimee’s head swam. This incredible-looking man really wanted her. The situation was beyond anything in her experience. Thankfully, it was a dream or she’d have been scared out of her wits and self-conscious about the scars marring her body.
    For a moment, she wondered if this dream would turn bad at some point. Her other erotic dream featuring this same lover certainly hadn’t, but then she’d awakened before it had gone too far. She didn’t have many good dreams, normal dreams. Only the ones with her tiger in them ended without fear and terror.
    She chuckled. This was simply an old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill erotic dream brought forward by her subconscious to tell her she needed a lover. No surprise there. It had been a long, long time since a flesh-and-blood male had shared her bed, and she hadn’t really missed it until now.
    He sat back on his haunches between her spread thighs, letting his hands roam from her knee all the way up to the sensitive juncture of her legs where her torso and thighs met. Breathless, Aimee willed his hands to go higher, to touch her where she ached the most.
    A whimper escaped her as she tilted her hips toward him, silently encouraging