Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(24)
His mouth moved on hers, deepening the kiss, while a fever ignited a slow burn in his belly. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He’d been more than conscious of that all day, and now he tugged the hem of her shirt up and over her head, clamping his arm around her until her breasts were tight against the muscles of his chest. She felt like heaven.
Tansy knew she was getting in too deep. She was letting him take her over, sacrificing her body to the darkness in him, igniting a fire neither of them was going to be able to put out easily. He had used her own weakness against her to bring her back to him, and now he was seducing her. She wanted the hot pleasure of his mouth, the feel of his hard body against hers and the strength in his arms. She craved the taste and texture of him, but most of all, she needed to take the pain out of his eyes and erase it from his mind.
His hand swept over her belly and every muscle bunched beneath his palm. His fingertips felt hard and calloused, a strange bristle-like stroke that sent shivers of excitement down her spine and arousal tingling in her thighs. He kissed her throat, down her shoulder, and then covered the tip of her breast with his mouth, suckling strongly. She nearly fell, her legs going weak and her core going liquid.
“Kadan?” Her fist clenched in his hair, and her voice trembled. A breathy little moan escaped her throat. Nothing had ever made her feel like he did. Wanted. Wanton. Sexy. Frightened. She was confused. She was drowning in the sensations his tongue and teeth on her nipple created.
“It’s all right, baby. I’ve got you,” he assured her softly. “You’re so soft, so perfect I can barely breathe.”
She watched him through half-closed eyes, his tongue taking long licks at her nipple, his lips closing around her breast, the tongue flicking and dancing until she cried out, the sound strangled as his hands tugged at the zipper of her jeans. Every nerve ending in her body seemed sensitized as his mouth traveled farther down her stomach, his tongue swirling over her belly button. He caught her jeans and pushed them down her hips, urging her to kick them aside. She stood naked, the night caressing her skin, the moon spilling light and shadow over her.
He brought his head up, his eyes nearly glowing in the dark, shining at her with dark hunger, with an intensity that was both terrifying and arousing. As his gaze darkened with lust, sweeping over her, a groan escaped, much like the sound the cougar made before it tore into its meal. He swore under his breath and dropped to his knees, pushing her thighs apart. He caught her hips in his hands and forced her body forward toward his waiting mouth.
Tansy might have screamed. She didn’t know. Maybe no sound actually emerged, but the scream of pleasure was locked tightly in her mind. He didn’t look up; instead he licked at her, taking long catlike strokes with his tongue, licking at her as if he was starving and desperate for cream. Her womb reacted with a slow rolling, rippling with pleasure, spilling more rich wetness.
He growled something, the sound vibrating through her body. She caught at his shoulders, trying to steady herself when she was on the verge of collapsing, as wave after wave of sheer pleasure consumed her. Her stomach tightened, the muscles bunching, tension spreading with the rising heat.
“I can’t stand it.” She threw her head back, legs splayed wide, his mouth at her, tongue circling the knot of nerves, until a sob of ecstasy escaped. She pushed against him mindlessly, thrusting with her hips, seeking more as the tension never lessened. His mouth and tongue and fingers stroked and caressed and ate her alive, until she was burning up in a fever of desperate need.
The orgasm took her by surprise, racing over her, body bucking helplessly with mind-numbing pleasure as her womb and feminine channel grew hotter and hotter and tighter and tighter, until she simply fragmented, losing control, losing herself in the fiery heat, giving herself up to his mouth and hands.
Kadan was on his feet, shedding his jeans, lifting her, growling instructions. “Wrap your legs around my waist. Hurry, Tansy. I need you.” Because if he didn’t bury himself inside of her, he was going to lose his mind.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, mashing her soft breasts against his chest while her long legs wrapped around his waist. She locked her ankles, nearly sobbing with need. He pressed the broad head of his shaft against her slick, wet entrance. He could barely breathe now, shocked at his own lack of control.
He felt fire blazing over his skin, lightning sizzling through his bloodstream as he began to invade her soft body, pushing through tight folds, so hot, like raw silk gripping him, burning him clean again. Inch by slow inch, he sank into her depths until he felt her wince as he lodged against a thin barrier.
“Hold on to me, Tansy,” he whispered through clenched teeth. She had to be a virgin—when he was sliding away from reality and careening out of control. “Let your weight come down on me.” His eyes met hers. He wanted her trust. He didn’t deserve it. He’d betrayed her already by using her own compassion against her, but he still wanted her—Tansy—the real woman, giving everything she was to him.
Her eyes went dark, the shine more luminous. Never taking her gaze from his, she pushed down, while he thrust up. The ripple of pain went through her mind to his and he stopped, leaning forward to find her mouth in an attempt to kiss the hurt away. He waited until she was kissing him back, until he felt her body stop resisting his, allowing his invasion so that he sank deeper into her, until he was buried to the hilt.
He let her set the pace, urging her with his hands on her hips to ride him, to find a rhythm that she could manage while getting used to the feel of his thickness stretching her. He hadn’t expected to need her so much, or that he would burn so hot. She was so damned tight, tighter than he’d imagined. The walls of her sheath felt alive, velvet soft, scalding hot, pulsing and throbbing around him, gripping him and sliding over him until he wanted to shout hoarsely with joy. Each moment inside of her sent light shimmering through him, piercing every dark shadow until for the first time that he could remember, he felt alive.
Christine Feehan's Books
- Christine Feehan
- Mind Game (GhostWalkers, #2)
- Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)
- Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)
- Shadow Game (GhostWalkers, #1)
- Samurai Game (Ghostwalkers, #10)
- Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers, #9)
- Predatory Game (GhostWalkers, #6)
- Night Game (GhostWalkers, #3)
- Deadly Game (GhostWalkers, #5)