Samurai Game (Ghostwalkers, #10)(89)



Tension built fast and sharp, a firestorm raged, and she writhed insanely, bucking, near sobbing with pleas for more. Her body began to spin out of control, winding tighter and tighter, climbing higher and higher until, when his finger sank deep and his tongue flicked, she flew apart, her body fragmenting, rockets going off in her head.

Sam reached for the drawer beside his bed and dragged the small pack out, ripping it open with his teeth. Nothing was going to interfere with her pleasure, not this time. He would make certain she was protected until after they’d talked to the others and her mind was at ease, or they decided permanently against having children. He rolled the condom on and moved up and over her, lifting her hips with one hand and positioning the head of his shaft at her slick entrance. She felt the burning tip enter her, and he pushed no more than an inch or two inside her, but she felt the stretch, the fiery heat. Her body moved of its own accord, muscles grasping him, trying to draw him in further. She felt as if she might not survive unless he was all the way inside of her.

Slow, baby.

The sound of his voice, his harsh panting as he tried to control his actions only aroused her more.

I don’t want to hurt you, Azami, and you’re so damned tight.

She sobbed his name, pleaded with him to fill her. He bent his head toward hers and licked at her neck, holding himself still as her body stretched to accommodate his size.

She felt him share her breath and then he pushed into her gently, feeling his way. She was slick and her hips wouldn’t stay still, even when he gripped her hard to control her runaway body. She gasped and held him to her, fingers digging into his hard, tense muscles.

He gave another small push and she felt the first hint of unease rippling through her body. Sam instantly kissed her, over and over, long, drugging kisses while her body pulsed around his.

Relax for me, sweetheart.

He retracted his hips and plunged deep, taking her breath and her innocence as he buried himself deep. Again he stopped moving, holding her close to him, murmuring reassurances.

I think you’re too big for me.

She burned, and not in a good way, as if he was far too large and he’d torn her. She drew up her hands to press against his chest.

You were made for me. Let yourself relax. Already the pain is easing up and you’re going to feel so good. You’re just in new territory. Trust me.

His mouth found hers again, and she forgot all about pushing him away. Fear slipped to the back of her mind as her body began to respond to his. He moved slowly, experimentally, as if she was a fragile flower he was afraid of crushing. The sensation went from uncomfortable to pleasure very quickly. She lay still, absorbing the way arousal swept through her like a wildfire.

He shifted again, retracting his hips, and she cried out in dismay. He plunged into her hard and fast, sending streaks of fire racing through her. She heard her own sobbing moan as she tightened around him, an involuntary response, her hips lifting to meet his of their accord.

Are you good now?

He was back to rough panting, forcing control when he was on the very edge. Again that little thrill went through her at the idea that she was the one he wanted so much—her not-so-perfect body.

Yes. Please, Sammy.

He bent his head to nip her chin. Please what?

His hips moved again, surging forward, burying himself even deeper. Sensations burst around her, fire seemed to arch over her skin.

Make me yours. All the way. I want to belong to you.

Hell, baby, there’s no question.

He moved again, the action making her cry out as fiery heat stroked and caressed. He lifted her hips with his hands, holding her still, watching her eyes. Her heart began pounding in nervous anticipation. He plunged deep into her, the stroke filling her, stretching and burning, pleasure bursting through her. He began thrusting hard and rhythmic, over and over, deeper and deeper, never stopping, driving her up higher than she believed possible.

She felt feverish with urgent need, the tension winding tighter and tighter. She couldn’t catch her breath, not with the pounding heat between her thighs, so hard, so thick, invading her senses until there was only Sam and his body welding with hers through pure fire. She could hear the sounds of their flesh coming together, her loud, ragged panting and his harsh breathing. She began to feel the edge of her consciousness fading as fire raged through her, growing into a storm she couldn’t stop.

That’s it, baby, stay with me, let go. Just give yourself to me.

She gasped, arching closer to him, gripping him hard, her body not her own, wild and out of control, lifting to meet the frenzied thrusting. She heard her own cry as his shaft dragged over her most sensitive spot, pressing hard as he plunged again deep into her. He seemed to grow even larger, stretching her until she thought she couldn’t stand the pleasure. A tidal wave ripped through her, her body clamping down hard around his thick shaft, taking him with her. Wave after wave tore through her, the strength of the release shocking, jerking her small body, burning through her body with a force she hadn’t conceived of.

She could feel his body reacting to her muscles gripping him so tightly, milking him dry. She fell back, gasping for air, shocked at the almost violent way she’d reacted to his possession.

Sam, struggling for breath, rolled off of Azami, afraid his weight would crush her, since he was as limp as a dishrag. He lay beside her, one arm slung across his eyes as he fought his burning lungs. He wasn’t certain he would ever move again. The best he could manage was his fingers, sliding across the sheet to find Azami’s hand.

Christine Feehan's Books