Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(114)

He pressed the burning head of his cock against her lips. She surprised him by kissing him. Not once, but several times. Her hands cupped his heavy sac, fingers caressing and stroking. The action lifted the lush curves of her breasts. Her nipples were tight little buds. It took willpower to resist their allure, but she was heavily bruised there and he didn’t want anything else to hurt her – ever. Even with the bruises fading so swiftly, he wasn’t about to take any chances of hurting her.


Her tongue slipped out of her mouth again and she licked over that broad, velvet head, making a little sound of happiness. His gut clenched hard. His cock jerked in anticipation. Her mouth engulfed him, tongue fluttering like butterfly wings along his shaft, the tip reaching that spot right under the crown. Pressing. Laving. She used broad strokes and then took him deep, released and did it again.


The sight of her loving him that way was almost too much. He was on fire. Fucking fire. Deep inside the ice melted, but the rage was gone, replaced by something altogether different. A molten volcano, buried deep beneath the glacier had begun to make its escape. The emotion erupting wasn’t anger or rage. It was just as deep, just as overwhelming, but it was a surge so powerful it shook him. Love. The emotion gripped him. Stunned him with its force.


She spread lightning through his veins. Her mouth scalded him. Sent pure fire spreading like a wild conflagration through him to come together in his cock. He reached for her head, two fists in her hair, tugging. She didn’t obey him. Her mouth tightened.


“I’m not coming in your mouth, Cayenne,” he said. “Fucking let go now.”


She smiled at him around a mouthful of cock. Her eyes smiled at him. Her mouth moved again, one long stroke that took him so deep his heart contracted. Her tongue teased up his shaft and then she let him go.


“On your hands and knees, facing away from me, right there on the edge of the bed.” His voice was hoarse. Who wouldn’t be? She loved touching him. Sucking him. Her hands caressed him, left him reluctantly. But she obeyed. She gave him that too. Because she was Cayenne. The woman created entirely for him.


He stood at the side of his bed, his eyes on her shapely ass. That was his too. All of her. Every damn inch. He couldn’t resist rubbing her buttocks, those firm, silky muscles and down her thighs. She was beautiful, on her knees, waiting for him, totally exposed. Totally vulnerable. Trusting him.


If you hurt at all, you tell me. He waited.


I’ll tell you, honey. I swear. I need you right now.


That was it. Right there. She trusted him implicitly to give her pleasure, to see to her pleasure no matter what he did to her. That gift was beyond any price. He stepped close, so close he could feel the heat waiting for him. That scorching tunnel of silk waiting to surround and strangle him.


The thought was too much. He caught her hips and slammed home. The sensation of her scalding muscles gripping him so tightly as he invaded, as he drove so deep he felt the bump as he touched her womb. She screamed.


“Trap. That’s so good. Perfect. Like that. Do me just like that.”


“I’ll do you however I want.” He stayed buried in her. Holding her to him. Feeling those muscles trying to strangle him, pouring into her mind to ensure she wasn’t hurting anywhere. He wanted only pleasure for her.


She wiggled. “You have to move. I’m not going to survive if you don’t move. I need this too, honey. Please move. Hard. Rough. I want to feel you. Let go this time. Completely.”


“Baby.” The thought of that – of losing himself in her – was such a temptation. Too much of one.


He pulled back and surged forward. Hard. Deep. Again and again. Fire streaked up his body, sizzled along every nerve ending in tune to her ragged breathing and soft cries of pleasure. Her pleas became demands. He loved that when he took her hard and rough, she pushed back into him, eager for more. So eager, she made her own demands.


He pounded into her, and let the fire take him. Consume him. He lost himself in the sheer beauty of her body. In the love he had for her and the knowledge that she gave herself to him so completely. He could have her any way he needed her and she’d give him that.


She pushed back, meeting his every stroke. Hard. Her breath hissing out of her lungs. Her body gripping his hard. Taking him deep. The scorching silk surrounded him, that tight, fiery tunnel of sheer bliss. He felt the coiling tension in her, heard the change in her breathing, the moans that sounded like music to him, and he knew she was so close. The need to give that beautiful gift to her was in every loving stroke of his body.


Lust was there, but love was the most prevalent, overwhelming emotion, tied so tightly with his lust that he couldn’t separate the two. The emotion made every streak of lightning, every fiery flame rushing like a fireball through his body so much stronger, sharper and raw.


Her body clamped down on his. Her breath hissed out in a long scream of his name, triggering his own release. There was no holding back the volcano. His cock erupted, slamming deep inside of her, his seed splashing into her scorching channel, filling her, pushing her climax higher. His cock jerked hard, over and over, as she milked him violently for every drop her body could wring out of his.


He couldn’t move, his legs unsteady as he gripped her hips so she wouldn’t collapse onto her bruised chest. Clearly her body had healed quickly from the injury, leaving behind the discoloring, but she wasn’t nearly in as much pain as she should have been. He held her still until he could breathe again. Only then did he slowly pull out of her and guide her over onto her back. She sprawled out on the mattress, her breathing still ragged, her breasts heaving.