Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(41)

He moved again. Long and slow, taking her to the edge, until he heard a sob escape. He wanted to do a little sobbing himself, his breath hitching, and love choking and clogging his throat. But he held on, pushing her past every limit, poising her on the edge of release, only to pull back, prolonging, building, seeing how high he could take them both.

Tansy heard the sob in her voice as she pleaded with him for release. He was relentless, burying himself deep and hard, and then just when she was certain she couldn’t take anymore and she’d find release, he’d pull back, slow down, change his pace, all the while putting pressure on her most sensitive spot. Her legs shook, and her body shuddered with urgent need, aware of every inch of his thick shaft buried deep inside her.

“Hold still.”

She couldn’t. He couldn’t possible think she could, when she was on the verge of mind-numbing pleasure. He held it just out of her reach, and she writhed and bucked in a desperate attempt to impale herself.

“Not yet. You’re going to take me with you and I don’t want to end this.” He pressed kisses down her spine, his hands caressing her breasts, her belly, flexing at her hips. “Not yet. I want to stay here awhile.”

“Please, Kadan, I can’t stand it.” She felt almost crazy with need, her body on fire, her insides swollen and aching and desperate for release. She couldn’t help herself, pushing back, twisting her hips, finding a frantic rhythm, grinding hard against him.

The breath slammed out of his lungs. Inside his throat—in his mind—he sounded wild, feral, a demon possessed. He buried his fingers deep in her hips, holding her still, his grip hard. He surged deep and she screamed. He pistoned forward, hard and deep, each thrust driving through the bundle of inflamed nerves so that she bucked and cried out, the sensations swamping him as her sheath tightened, strangling him, clamping down so hard he thought he’d go mad with pleasure. An explosive orgasm tore through her and took him with her, destroying all control so that he speared into her harder and faster in a frantic attempt to prolong the tidal wave that ripped up his thighs, down his belly, and centered in his shaft where her body continued to tighten around him, milking him dry. He jerked convulsively and then shuddered with pleasure as he filled her with hot semen.

He stood behind her, buried deep, his arms wrapped around her waist now while she hung exhausted over the couch. He didn’t even know how they’d gotten started in the first place, only that he would never be sated. He wanted to spend every waking minute just touching her, filling her.

Kadan rested his head on her back, drawing in great deep breaths. “You know, for me, you’re my woman. My wife. Whenever you’re ready, say the word and we’ll do it legal. There’s no way you weren’t meant for me.” Hell, he’d never believed in God; there were too many sick, perverted people in the world, too much crime, and too many natural disasters for him to believe anyone who cared was really out there in the cosmos watching. But Tansy was a miracle. For the first time in his life, it occurred to him that if there was really such a being, Kadan owed big-time—for Tansy, because he believed absolutely that she was created for him. And he knew he’d been created for her.

“Damn it, woman, you’ve even got me thinking spiritual crap.” How pathetic was that?

Her body shook. He straightened up, allowing his shaft to slip out of her, enjoying the ripple that ran through her belly, telling him she was having delicious little aftershocks.

“Are you laughing at me?”

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him, a small smile teasing her mouth. “A little, yes.”

“I have what could be a revelation and you’re laughing.” His hands were gentle as he helped her straighten up. He drew the edges of the shirt together and rebuttoned it.

“And your revelation is what?”

“You don’t deserve to know.” He leaned down to kiss her because he couldn’t resist her beautiful mouth. “We’ve got work to do. Stop distracting me.”

“You can set up the game pieces while I take a bath. If I don’t, I’m going to be too sore to walk.”

“I like that idea.”

“You’re so bad, Kadan.” She tossed another grin over her shoulder and left him.

Kadan listened to the bathwater running as he pulled on jeans and padded barefoot into the war room. He didn’t want her here, not where the photographs of the dead would surround them. He took the pieces out into the dining room and, wearing gloves, positioned them on the table in the order of the murders on the East Coast and then the West. He hated that she was going to do this, but he was going to make damned certain she didn’t have the same repercussions as she’d had the time before.





Tansy surveyed the ivory pieces Kadan set on the table. The game pieces were beautifully carved. Whoever had made them knew what he was doing. Each figurine was detailed meticulously. She held her palm over the pieces, an inch or so above the tallest, and passed her hand over them, feeling the waves of excitement and violence embedded in the ivory. Taking a breath, she dipped her hand lower.

Kadan’s hand slid beneath her wrist so fast it was a blur, his fingers circling hers and jerking her hand away before she could pick up one of the ivory carvings. Standing behind her, he held her wrist away from the game pieces. As he placed a proprietary hand on her shoulder, his body curved over hers so that his heat enveloped her.