Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers, #9)(99)
He loved the look on her face as she slowly impaled herself on his cock. There were so many ways he was eager to explore taking her, but he wanted this—that sexy, needy look that no woman could ever fake, her eyes half closed, her lips parted, the rush of air and the flush of color. He especially loved the way her chocolate eyes melted into a glittering glaze.
His cock embedded deep, all the way to the hilt. He inhaled, feeling the air rush from her lungs into his as he inhaled. He couldn’t close his eyes to savor the sensations pouring over him, not and watch her face too, and he craved the sight of her, so sexy, so feminine, enjoying his body with the same desperate hunger he had for her. He needed the sight of her, alive and well. She had somehow become his world in a very short space of time, the need for her—not just her body but Rose herself—had become paramount to his happiness.
He mapped her feminine shape with his hands, worshipping her, stroking his fingers over her rib cage, upward to cup her breasts while she rode him with a leisurely rhythm designed to drive him slowly out of his mind. He loved this woman in a way he never thought possible. She’d stolen her way inside him that first time he’d shared her bed. The courage in her had been beyond comprehension to him. He had fallen hard, and he had known then that no other woman would get to him in the same way she did. His respect and admiration for her had only grown from that first meeting. He’d handed his heart into her keeping when he hadn’t even fully known what he was doing, and now he was more than happy that he’d done so.
He let her set the pace. Let her use him to drive away the terror of their near loss. He wanted to drive away every demon, every fear—for her. To put the shine back in her eyes, to give her back her faith in herself. She was killing him with the slow spirals she liked to use, a dance of fire, with her silky cap of hair spilling around her face and those dark eyes showing him how lost in pleasure she was.
He could watch the emotions chase across her face forever. His hands slid over her body, memorizing every inch until they settled on her hips. He flexed his fingers, enjoying the tight, hot friction gripping him, the buildup of need until it surged through him, until he couldn’t take the slow, lazy pace another second.
“Hold on, baby,” he whispered softly.
She reached out and touched his face, looking at him with her almond eyes. “You’re mine,” she whispered.
That one sultry look, the brush of her fingers against his face, and the possession in her voice was his undoing. “Son of a bitch, Rose, you kill me sometimes,” he bit out between clenched teeth. It was either swear or cry when she turned him inside out like she did.
He gripped her hips hard and began to thrust into her, driving deeper and deeper, filling her, stretching her, taking her up hard and fast. He felt the silken walls surrounding him clasp and spasm, convulse and contract as powerful waves took her like a tsunami. Her orgasm tore through her, pulsing around his cock with white-hot heat, until he couldn’t hold back and he went over the edge with her.
She collapsed against him, gasping for air. Kane caught the back of her head in his palm and urged her to bury her face against his neck as they both struggled to regain control of their breathing.
“I love you, Rose,” he told her, the words wrenched from somewhere deep inside him. “I think we need a bed. I can’t ever make love to you properly if we don’t find us a good bed.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “Um, Kane? We have a perfectly good bed. You just can’t wait long enough to use it.”
“You’re always getting up to feed the baby and I have to go find you and then ... well ... things naturally happen.” He brushed a kiss into her wild hair. “Are you feeling better?”
Her laughter was contagious and somewhat muffled against his shoulder. She trailed kisses over the heavy muscles of his chest. “You’re so insane. Is this what we’re going to do every time I’m upset?”
“Of course. I’m kissing you better.”
“Kissing?”
“And other things.” He nuzzled her neck and then nipped at her. She squirmed, causing her muscles to clamp down on him all over again, a sensation he found extremely pleasurable. He bit down again just to feel the effect a second time.
“You sound so smug.”
“I deserve to be smug.” He was certain he did. She glowed. He’d driven the guilt and fear away for a space of time, replacing the negative emotions with sheer pleasure, and that was what mattered. “I’m good.” He wanted to give her everything she’d never had. He wanted to be her damn superhero, which was laughable when he could never quite find the right words to tell her what she meant to him.
Her soft laughter teased his nerve endings back to full alert. “You’re more than good, and you know it.” She turned her face toward his, her lips slightly parting as if to speak.
Kane leaned forward and fastened his mouth to hers, welding them together. Her body shivered in response, and the little aftershocks rippling through her sheath sent shock waves through his cock. He deepened the kiss, unable to ever just kiss her once. Not when she was so responsive and he loved the taste of her more than anything else he’d ever had.
When he finally allowed her to catch her breath, she clung to him, sweeping back his hair, looking into his eyes. “You’re not supposed to exert yourself, Kane, and you just ran, dove into the ocean, fought with divers, and made love to me. Your doctor ...”