Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(109)

“They went home to their women. Gator’s wife is researching, and he wants to see what she found for us. They’ll be back soon. I thought it would be better for us to be alone when you handle the other game pieces. I noticed it makes you uncomfortable when they see you afterward, although Nico was a huge help and I’ve asked him to be certain to be back by this evening.”

His hands moved, cupping and kneading her breasts a little more aggressively, tugging at her nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger until she was stiff and aching for him.

She closed her eyes, arching into him. “Thank you for being so thoughtful. I can’t help but feel vulnerable afterward, and it is hard to have anyone see me like that. Half the time I don’t know what’s going on around me. And I’m always afraid I might end up fragmented and institutionalized again.”

“You won’t. I’ll always take care of you.”

She smiled at him, aching inside, wanting to believe he would always be with her.

“Stay still, baby.” He levered himself over her so he faced her on his side, keeping her injured hip safe from jarring.

She loved his face, the hard angles and planes, his strong jaw with the dark shadow, his sensual mouth and straight nose. Most of all, his dark blue, almost black eyes. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, positioning himself so he had easy access to her breasts. “I love how warm and soft you are,” he murmured, tracing a finger along the shape of her lips, down her chin to the valley between her breasts. “I love the thought of eating you for breakfast.”

Her womb clenched. Liquid heat pooled. She loved the way he wanted her. His focus was always intense and complete. Wholly on her. He could make her wet just by looking at her.

His tongue teased her nipple, first licking, as if she were an ice cream cone, then harder flicks, before his mouth settled, hot and greedy, sucking strongly. She couldn’t stop the ragged cry that escaped, or the way her body involuntarily pushed deeper into the heat of his mouth. He alternated between hot licks, small stinging bites, and sucking, so that her body just kept coiling tighter and tighter and she was left gasping for breath.

She held him to her, cradling his head, stroking his hair, sometimes yanking when another bite sent fire sizzling through her bloodstream. She watched his face, those incredible lashes, the concentration, the lust rising dark, almost frightening in its intensity. She loved that in him—the way he craved her, the way he needed her to give herself wholly to him. He made her feel beautiful and sexy and so wanted. At the same time she was so desperate for his mouth and hands and his body. The mix of emotions was incredibly sensual.

Kadan lavished attention on her breasts, teasing and stroking, his tongue a sensual weapon, his teeth erotic, his hands magic. He kissed his way down the curve of her breast, licking at the underside and trailing more kisses along her rib cage.

“You’re so soft and warm, Tansy. I love the way your body responds to me.” His hand was well ahead of his mouth, moving down her soft body to the junction at her legs, testing her wetness, her desire for him.

Kadan wanted to take his time and feast, a leisurely exploration of shadows and hollows, finding every hidden sweet spot, every trigger. He wanted an intimate map he could use to pleasure her. And he wanted this for himself. This absolute giving to him, her body open to every sensual thing he wished to do, her giving herself to him without reservation. She trusted him; whether it was instinct or not, or the connection of their minds, he didn’t know, he didn’t care—he knew only that she put herself entirely into his hands and gave him her body.

He moved over her, taking in every inch of her with his hands and tongue, tasting and teasing, dancing his fingers across her body until she was rewarding him with shivers of pleasure and soft moans she couldn’t repress. He didn’t want her to be silent. He needed to hear every sound, see and feel every response. His teeth raked again at her nipple and she choked out a strangled cry. His tongue flicked and curled around the peak and then drew it into the hot depths of his mouth. Each hard flick of his tongue sent sensations crashing through her, rushing to her womb, where his hand lay over her lower stomach and he could feel heat and the bunching of her muscles, while his mind shared every pleasure.

He licked his way over the slope of her breast again, down through the valley, and tasted cinnamon. Sheer pleasure rocketed through him. There had to be some kind of aphrodisiac in the lotion she used on her satin-soft skin. His, all his. Every last inch of her. She arched into his mouth, pressing herself deeper. He slid his hand down lower, over her damp mound, his thumb sliding into slick heat, finding her hard bud and rasping over it with the bristles embedded in the pads of his fingers. Her breath came in ragged, breathy little moans, and her hips writhed and bucked in need.

He didn’t let the flames licking over his skin or the wild-fire burning along his shaft hurry him. He wanted to drive her into a frenzy. He wanted cinnamon candy for breakfast. Her scent called to him, and every nerve, every cell responded. He spread her thighs apart, and looked up at her. She looked sultry, face flushed, eyes glazed with a hot, desperate hunger. He lowered his head.

His tongue lashed at her, sending lightning whipping through her body, white-hot, threatening to consume her. Tansy nearly bucked from the bed, but his arms pinned her down and he continued his greedy feast. His teeth scraped and tugged, his tongue teased and probed, and then his fingers joined in.