Deadly Game (GhostWalkers, #5)(59)

“Spread your legs for me, Mari.” His voice was harsh, hands rough on her thighs, forcing her obedience before she could give it to him, positioning her so he could kiss his way down her belly button, pausing to nibble the underside of her breasts, trace each rib, and lavish attention on her abdomen with hot licks as if she were an ice cream cone.

“Ken.” Desperate, she fisted her hands in his hair, trying to drag him over her, to blanket her.

He caught her wrists and jerked them down. “Behave,” he ordered. “We do this my way. I warned you, it has to be my way.” Because watching her lose control, watching the lust build into mindless need, fed his violent instincts and increased his pleasure. The more she came apart for him, the better it was for him.

“I can’t take it. You’re too slow.”

“Stay still,” he repeated, his voice roughening. His tongue followed his finger in a long, slow sweep searching for the nectar he was craving.

She nearly came off the cot, her sobs real, her hips thrashing wildly. He smacked the side of her bottom in warning and watched the answering flare of arousal in her eyes. Ken clamped one arm down tight across her hips, pinning her down. His need raged white-hot now, coursing through his body with the force of a tidal wave, a storm of fire so out of control it was crowning. He didn’t just need her body; he wanted her soul. He wanted her so tied to him she would do anything he asked, anything he demanded of her.

Mari raised her head to look at him, the dark sensuality on his face, the intensity of his desire that shuddered through his body. His eyes were pure silver, twin slashes of light that focused solely on her. His hands were hard and terribly strong. His scars traveled down his belly right over his enormous cock. The knife cuts had been made with surgical precision, each slice designed to cause the maximum amount of pain without killing him. His balls were cut, as were his belly and hips and down across his thighs, until the scars disappeared into the legs of his jeans.

She would have thought no one could recover from such an ordeal, but he was hard and thick and long enough to be intimidating—and she wanted to touch and taste and soothe, make it all better for him. Mostly she wanted to drive him past all sanity, the way he was driving her. She licked her lips to moisten them, parting them as she stared at the long, daunting length of him. She was coming apart, her body coiling tighter and tighter until she was afraid she would be screaming, throwing herself at him, begging for release.

He whispered something guttural and faintly obscene, his voice so rough she found it sexy. His silver eyes branded his name into her flesh and bone as he clamped down on her thighs and lowered his head, his mouth on her most intimate lips, his tongue thrusting deep into her. Everything around her seemed to explode. She shattered, utterly and completely shattered, breaking into a million pieces, her mind fragmenting until there was no conscious thought, only wave after wave of sensation, tidal waves swamping her, carrying her far out to sea, where she had no anchor and no way back.

She fought to get away, using her strength, terrified of losing herself for all time, afraid if he didn’t stop she might die from the crashing pleasure. Her vision narrowed, and she saw dark streaks covered in blue-hot stars as her breasts tightened and her womb spasmed and every muscle in her body clenched and coiled, winding tighter and tighter. He held her still, as no one else could have, his enhanced strength impossible to fight while he drove his tongue relentlessly into her feminine channel, spearing deep, over and over. She couldn’t stand it. He had to stop. He had to.

The tongue went from stabbing to fluttering; teeth found her most sensitive spot and began a slow, torturous assault. His finger added to the insanity, pushing deep and pulling out to spread hot liquid over her most intimate parts. His mouth went to her sensitive bud, tongue flicking back and forth ruthlessly, throwing her into a wild, never-ending orgasm. The more sensitive she grew, the more he persisted, holding her down while he sucked at her, before once more taking her bud between his teeth and stroking with his tongue. She lost her ability to breathe, thrashing back and forth wildly in an effort to get away from his mouth.

Her breath came out in ragged sobs. “I can’t take any more. No more.” The sensations were building continually. She’d lost count of how many times she’d come apart, each orgasm stronger than the last, until she felt it through her stomach and up into her breasts, until every part of her was stimulated beyond her imagination.

“Yes, more. You’ll come for me, Mari, over and over.” His voice was guttural as he sucked ravenously at her, throwing her into another climax.

It was too much; she had never had anyone give her so much, demand so much, take so much. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, desperate to hold on when the world was gone. Their combined scents were potent and heady, so sexy she couldn’t think. His hands were everywhere, making her body his, taking possession of each separate part of her.

When she stiffened in protest—afraid—his mouth devoured her, eating her like the candy he’d called her earlier, devouring everything until she was certain there was nothing left of Mari. He lifted his head to look at her, his face pure carnal sensuality.

“You belong to me,” he whispered roughly. Body and soul. Whatever he wanted or needed, she was going to be the one to supply it. The dark violence in him could be harnessed and used for much more pleasurable purposes, the demons caged by one woman—Mari. She made his cock ache and his balls burn and his control slip away, until all he could think about was having her. He was a man who could ride a woman all night and never feel completely sated, yet just looking at her sprawled out beneath him at the mercy of his body, hearing her pleas and sobs for him to take her, he knew everything was different with her. His life would always be different.