Night Game (GhostWalkers, #3)(88)

Flame looked up at his face, and the breath rushed from her lungs. She had such power over him. It was amazing to her and all he wanted was what she’d been curious about anyway. He knew her body intimately, she wanted to know his just as intimately.

He used his fists in her hair to guide her movements, as she slowly licked, kissed, and nibbled, building up her courage before taking him deep into the heat of her mouth. He groaned, unable to stop the sound from escaping. Flame had good instincts and it didn’t take her long to figure out just from his reactions what he liked and what he loved.

Gator threw his head back, a low, strangled moan emerging from his throat. Flame never did anything in half measures and she was a fast learner. She started out so sweet and tentative. She was a mixture of innocent and siren and already she was taking him deep, suckling strongly, using her tongue to torment and tease. He had planned just a very short little lesson, but her hand caressed and squeezed his balls, circled his shaft and did the same all the while her mouth worked hot magic on him. Twice he felt the squeeze of her throat as she did a slow, heart-stopping slide. He could feel his balls drawing tighter and tighter until he was certain he would explode.

He did the only thing he could think to do to save coming too soon. He wanted to be in her body, giving her so much pleasure she wouldn’t think of ever leaving him. He had time for everything else. Years, he hoped. Years of her mouth and body and her soft, sexy laughter and her sass. He hit the switch on the remote controlling the eggs so that they buzzed to vivid life, moving and fluttering and pressing against sensitive nerve endings.

Flame rocked back on her heels, crying out as her muscles spasmed and contracted. A tremor went through her. “Raoul.”

He caught her waist and gently tugged until she was bent over the side of the bed. “Watch your arm, cher. I want you comfortable.” He stood behind her, his hand caressing her bottom. “I love your ass. I fantasize about it all the time.”

“Stop talking and do something.” She nearly sobbed the order, unable to stand still, her body tippling with orgasm after orgasm.

He switched off the remote and reached down to tug the string. She gasped as one by one the eggs slid over her heightened nerve endings causing a second shudder of pleasure. “You’re so wet, Flame, so hot.” He pressed against her, catching her hips and drawing her back while he slammed forward. “So damn tight.”

The moment he plunged inside her, driving through her tight folds, so hard and thick, filling her, rubbing against her overstimulated nerve endings she couldn’t stop from trying to take control of the pace. She was frantic, pounding back against him, riding him hard while her body seemed to wind tighter and tighter. She felt it everywhere, her legs, her breasts, but especially between her legs, the fierce pleasure spiraling out of control. Wave after wave shook her.

Suddenly he went still, his hands on her bottom, massaging, kneading, his body deep inside her while she pushed back against him desperate for relief.

“What are you doing?”

“I just can’t help myself, cher. I’m a weak man and the temptation is too much for me.”

She could feel him swelling inside her, his excitement obvious. He felt too big again, hitting her womb, too thick stretching her tight channel. Flame glanced back at over her shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw him pick up the leopard-skin paddle. “If you want to live, you won’t dare.”

“Then I’m going to die in paradise.” He smacked her bare bottom with the paddle.

Flame gritted her teeth. “You do that again and I’ll break that thing over your head.”

The paddle went flying. “I didn’t much like it, either. ‘Course,”—his hand massaged her bottom again—”if I were to give you a spankin’ I’d want to do it with my hand so I could feel you—and you could feel me. That would be sensual, not impersonal. That’s what was wrong.”

“Raoul!” Flame wailed his name, riding back against him, moving her hips to try to force his compliance, grinding her body against his with small sobs of need. She was going to have to hurt him if he didn’t get on with it.

His hand came down on her bare butt bringing a flare of unexpected heat and then a caress as his palm rubbed over the spot. Her tight muscles contracted around him and a fresh flood of liquid bathed him. Before she could form a protest, he thrust, driving mercilessly through her hot sheath hard and deep, over and over.

Flame couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Only feel. A sob of pleasure escaped as her climax tore through her body with such force she would have fallen if Raoul hadn’t been holding tightly to her hips. Her muscles clamped down on him, gripping hard, squeezing so hot and tight she heard his breath explode from his lungs.

He swore in Cajun, a long growling, guttural curse -while his body swelled thicker and thicker until he was rising on his toes and gritting his teeth, shuddering with pleasure as his body jerked with his own violent, explosive release.

Flame lay facedown over the side of the bed, Raoul’s thick erection buried deep inside her, his body blanketing hers, while they both gasped, searching to draw air into burning lungs and calm the wild storm crashing over their bodies. Spasm after spasm tightened ruthlessly on him. rocking them both, even as they lay quiet. She could feel her body pulsing around his, greedy for more, yet she was exhausted.

Dawn had crept into the room, the early-morning light spilling over them, bringing with it some semblance of sanity. She felt the burn of tears. She wanted to spend her life here, in this cabin, far away from the insanity of who and what she was, but it was impossible. How could she stand knowing what it would have been like to stay with him? To have him? To have a family?