Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers, #4)(96)

“Look how beautiful you are with my children growing inside of you.” His voice deepened, became nearly a growl. “Come here.” He indicated a spot in front of him. All he wanted to do at that moment was love her—his way—pour everything he was or ever would be into her.

Briony crossed the room, her breasts swaying with every step, her heart quickening and the hot cream thickening in anticipation as her womb spasmed. Her mouth went dry just seeing the dark intensity in his gaze as it moved so possessively over her. He might be afraid of that trait in himself, but she reveled in it.

Yes, of course she felt fear of the unknown—he was far more experienced sexually than she was—but she was willing to go where he led, wanting the hot passion flaring between them. It spread through her belly and up her spine, little flicks of electricity sparking through her nerve endings.

His hand glided over her breast, the lightest of touches, but she was ultrasensitive and shivered beneath the pads of his fingers. He bent his head to kiss her, thinking to be ruthless, to show her what he was like, but his mouth gentled the moment he felt the curve of her silken lips. His tongue ran along the seam, savoring her softness, teeth tugging on her full bottom lip, a demand that she open for him.

He sank into the inviting heat of her mouth as he ran his hands over her body. Up her back, down her spine, massaging her rounded bottom—until the sensations of her mouth and her silky skin sent thunder crashing in his mind. Her arms crept up around his neck as she leaned her body into his, hard nipples pressing tightly into his chest as his touch and kiss aroused her more. He took his time exploring her body, letting her explore his. Her touch, light and hesitant, but eager, nearly drove him out of his mind.

“I didn’t get to touch you,” she confided. “You were so wounded, cuts everywhere. I still don’t know how you were able to have sex. I watched your eyes and the pain was there, but not in your mind.”

There was an ache in her voice that struck him at the very core of his being. He knew he was a hard man, but she got to him, and he didn’t know if it was Whitney’s pheromones, her courage, or just the fact that her need of him was as great as his own for her. “I wanted you to touch me. I spent more nights than I can count imagining your hands on my body.”

Teeth nipped along her neck and shoulders, small pinpoints of pain, followed by the tender ministrations of his lips. His tongue tasted her skin, swirled like velvet over the tiny bites, sending whips of pleasure bursting through her.

Her hands traced each slice of the knife, injuries she’d attended to—wounds she’d stitched. They were everywhere, all over his body, front and back, small cuts and hideous burns. On his chest, she could make out the letters with her fingertips, the name of the man who had done such a thing, forever carved across Jack’s chest.

He flicked her nipple with his tongue and she shivered with pleasure. Her back arched when his mouth covered her breast, hot and tight, tongue stroking and teasing, sending licks of excitement through her body. He lifted his head to kiss her again, and it was addicting, the hard press of his mouth, the dark arousal washing through her body in waves. He pressed his thigh up into the damp vee between her legs, sending a shaft of lightning whipping through her.

Briony cried out, her head falling back as she pushed against him, riding his thigh, so that the flashes of heat flamed through her. She stroked his neck, down his chest, and leaned forward again to flick her tongue over the deepest of the scars, as if she could heal it with her moist caress.

His touch became more demanding, losing the gentle glide as he explored her body. His hunger was so sharp, so terrible, his need of her so great he felt like an animal, a predator, dark and dangerous in a feeding frenzy. He dropped to his knees, his hands dragging her thighs apart.

Briony gasped as his finger pushed deep into her heat. Her muscles clamped hard, raging for release as another gush of fluids betrayed her own need.

He swore harshly, hands biting into her hips, dragging her forward as he replaced his finger with his mouth.

Briony nearly fell, her legs turning to jelly, shudders wracking her body as she flung her arms out to try to anchor herself. “Jack.” His name came out a sob, but he showed no mercy, his tongue sweeping through her slick folds, stabbing hard, so that she bit off a scream of ecstasy. He growled again, the vibration sending a spasm through her womb and a firestorm of flames through her blood.

“I can’t stand it,” she moaned. “It’s too much.”

He licked her hungrily, desperate for the taste of her, desperate to bind her to him in the one way he could be sure of.

Briony caught his hair in her fist, tried to yank him back as her legs went to rubber and the pleasure burst through her, her muscle spasms painful as his teeth and tongue fed at her silken channel. He added his fingers and she did scream, her mind fragmenting as he pushed her higher and higher. She couldn’t control herself anymore, a mindless body thrusting against his mouth, riding his fingers as her body wound tighter and tighter, dragging her into a whirlpool of such pleasure she simply exploded, bursting into fragments, muscles contracting violently, heat searing her body and spreading through her—spreading more need, more hunger, until there was only Jack. Until she was more his than her own. She heard her own cry of release, the wailing sound shocking as she thrust helplessly against him.

You’re safe, baby. Safe with me. I’ve got you. He lowered her shaking body to the bed, hips keeping her thighs wide as he stood between her legs and lifted her, dragging her until her bottom was off the bed and only he supported her.