Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(39)

CHAPTER 7


Tansy’s breath caught in her throat. Her body pulsed with need. Kadan could turn her into a melting cauldron of liquid heat with one intense look. Hot excitement poured through her veins. He was all muscle and strength. And he was completely, utterly, focused on her. He made her feel as if he had to have her. As if waiting one more moment might kill him. He didn’t say much. He just looked at her, his eyes dark with lust, with possession, and every fiber of her being surrendered to the demand in his steady gaze.

His calloused hand was hot on her skin, and every muscle in her body tensed. He knew every shadow and curve intimately, and she craved his touch. Craved it. After a lifetime of never touching or being touched, she felt like a cat, pleasured by the caressing strokes, arching her back, pushing her hips upward against his hand, needy for whatever he gave her.

The pad of his thumb, with the strange feel of velvet bristles, made lazy circles on the inside of her thigh, slid upward to caress the crease between her buttocks and her thigh. A soft moan escaped, needy and hot and so unlike her, although she was afraid that with Kadan she’d turned into a very sexual being. Blood thundered in her pulse, roared in her ears, and throbbed in her clit, in time with the mounting tension in her womb.

There was something very arousing about lying sprawled across a man’s lap, shirt open, bare breasts spilling out, and his hands wandering possessively up her thighs, fingers circling and disappearing inside her body, as if her body belonged to him and not her. His face was dark and intent, hooded eyes on the rise and fall of her breasts. There was satisfaction in the carved, sensual lines of his face as he watched her breathing change to ragged gasps and the wild color flush all over her.

Heat radiated from him, and in his lap his shaft grew into a monster of need. He pressed against her tightly, letting her feel the way he responded to her eager, wet body. “Look at me, Tansy.” His voice was harsh. “I want to see your face when I take you over the edge.”

She loved how rough he sounded, that edge to his tone, that dark, intense desire, the lines that seemed deeper, the way her skin burned as his gaze slid so possessively over her. His fingers straightened, jabbed deep, filling her sheath, stretching the soft, slick, velvet folds. She gasped and bucked, as his thumb pressed down relentlessly on her hard bud.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he whispered, his teeth tugging at her earlobe. “Each time I push deep inside, you get wetter and hotter.” His tongue licked along her ear, swirled down her neck. His teeth teased at her skin.

He plunged into her tight depths again, watching her face, drinking in her gasps of pleasure, the way her eyes widened and her nipples peaked. Her thighs tensed; her stomach muscles bunched. It seemed so decadent, Tansy sprawled across him, her soft body open for his every touch, receptive to his every desire.

He had never thought he’d have a woman of his own, let alone one he craved, one he felt bonded to, skin to skin, mind to mind. It had happened before he’d had a chance to think, to even know or understand, but something in her drove out the cold and replaced ice with heat. Every time he looked at her, he wanted to touch, to give her pleasure, to see her eyes glaze over with heated desire just for him. Salvation. Redemption maybe. Whatever it was, and he didn’t even care, she was his and he was hers.

Moisture coated his fingers, thick and hot. Her sheath was so damned tight his cock jerked with anticipation. He thrust another finger deep, stretching her a bit, plunging and retracting, watching her face, her heightened breathing, that telltale flush, and the sheen in her eyes. He took his time, bringing her to the edge of her climax, loving her face, the beauty of need. He reveled in the way her body rode his hand almost helplessly while little whimpers and pleas escaped.

If this wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was. He wanted her with every cell in his body. He knew she’d been born for him. And he vowed to himself she’d never have a reason to regret her choice. He plunged deeper, his thumb teasing her clit until she went crashing over the edge, crying out his name, her body nearly strangling his fingers. He let her ride it out, feeling the powerful ripples before pulling out his fingers and tasting them, savoring the unique cinnamon flavor that was Tansy.

She was panting a little, dazed by the powerful orgasm. He slid his hand over her bottom in another slow caress and leaned down to her ear. His fingers remained tight in her hair, the heavy mass wrapped in his fist. “Slide off my lap to your knees.” Even as he said it, he tugged at her hair with one hand and pushed her hips from his with the other.

Tansy found herself kneeling between his legs as he sat all the way up, one leg planted on either side of her body. Her face was in his lap, right where he’d planned all along. He caught her hand and wrapped it around the thick length of him, down low at the base, even as he used the fist in her hair to guide her mouth over him. Her tongue touched him first and his cock jerked. His balls tightened. Warm air bathed the broad head. She licked a glistening drop away and watched the shudder of pleasure go through his body, felt it ripple through his mind.

Kadan clenched his teeth as she swiped her tongue in a long, slow curl over the top of the mushroom head and then teased underneath where he was so sensitive. She looked so hot, kneeling in front of him, her shirt gaping open to give him a view of her flushed breasts and flat tummy, down to the vee of curls with shimmering moisture clinging invitingly. He licked his lips and sucked in his breath as she swallowed him.