Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(60)

She never wanted him to stop, although fear snaked through her, attacking on a visceral level. He would own her again. She’d managed to survive without him the first time, but now their union was even more explosive. There would be no letting another man touch her. It would never happen. The thought sickened her. It was Mack. Only Mack, taking her over, proving to her that she was nothing without him.

He didn’t give her time for coherent thought, jerking her legs up over his shoulders as his hips pistoned ferociously, driving him into her again and again. His face was etched into a harsh mask, his sensual lips over bared teeth as his breath hissed out, but his eyes always dominated, demanding she not look away from him. Commanding her in a way that both thrilled and frightened her because she couldn’t stop herself from taking what he gave her. She wanted him like this, wild and out of control, forcing her far beyond every comfort zone she’d ever known.

Her greedy body spilled hot nectar around him, clutched and grasped with ever-tightening muscles. Hotter. Always hotter, the inferno in her building until she thought her life would be forfeit. She could hear inarticulate pleading coming from her throat—for what, she wasn’t certain. More. To stop. No, never that. She wanted him hammering into her, the sound of their bodies coming together in a ferocious tango. She had to have this, have him.

She writhed, tossed her head, bucked her hips in a wild bid to meet his madness, to force his finish, to take him the way he was taking her.

“Now, Jaimie, for me. With me.” He hissed the command through clenched teeth, his gaze piercing hers straight to her soul. Taking her. Capturing everything she was, would ever be, into his keeping, including her ability to orgasm.

His heavy shaft stroked over her inflamed, swollen bud and she exploded; wave after wave of intense sensation surged through her. Her muscles clamped down around his thick, hammering cock in a painfully erotic vise. Her body tightened more and more, until she thought she’d shatter into a million pieces. Her back arched. Her hips bucked, every muscle went stiff. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The orgasm tore through her body, shredding every idea she’d ever had of lovemaking. The explosion tore through her womb, rushed through her stomach like a rolling fireball, into her breasts, down her thighs, as wave after wave hit her.

Just as she thought she’d hit the peak and the rolling ecstasy was subsiding, her body gripped his even harder and hot seed splashed deep, triggering another, even more powerful inferno that engulfed her completely, sweeping her body into a frenzy of flames so that she writhed, so that strangled cries emerged. Her heart pounded and her lungs burned. She burned.

She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t break his hold on her, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was proving a point. He gave her what he wanted to give her. Lust, brutal and strong and controlling, such pleasure she might not survive it. He’d give her his protection. But it was going to be on his terms, not hers.

“Don’t you ever f*cking leave me again, Jaimie,” he whispered hoarsely, his gaze boring into hers. “Do you understand me?”

She had no voice; she might never be able to speak again. She licked dry lips and managed a nod while deep inside, where no one could hear, she was screaming.

Mack searched her face for a long time before he seemed satisfied. He collapsed over the top of her, sprawling on her as he used to do. It was only then that she realized he still had his clothes on. She was completely naked and she hadn’t even realized he was nearly fully clothed until she felt his weight blanketing her. The material hurt her sensitive skin and he must have known it because he nipped her chin with his teeth, and then pressed a kiss over the sting before rolling off of her.

Jaimie closed her eyes as she flung one arm across her face. There was no hiding. She couldn’t pretend away the breathless cries or her ragged breathing as she fought for air. There was no way to fake her response to him. He knew exactly what he did to her. He lay next to her, one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, just as he had done so many times before while she lay wishing sex—great sex, mind-blowing sex—would be enough to sustain her, but knowing it would never be.

She hoped he’d go to sleep just like the many other times he’d worn himself out again and again until neither could move and then, without saying a word to her, he’d wrap her up in his arms and fall asleep. Now she didn’t want to talk, and he was stirring.

She’d always loved him, from the first moment she’d seen him, so big and sure of himself. So completely confident. Just the opposite of her. It had been hero worship all those years ago and Mack had treated her like a puppy, a little girl all eyes and a mop of curly hair with a brain too advanced for her years. He’d seen her through all those awkward times with a casual protection that evolved into something fierce and primitive.

Jaimie had always wanted to belong to him. She had been desperate to belong somewhere—anywhere—all her life, and there was Mack. He was everything she didn’t have. And it was dangerous to be desperate, to love someone too much. She didn’t think that was possible until right at that moment. She lay naked on the floor of her workroom, her heart pounding, head roaring, weeping inside. She wasn’t strong enough to resist him, and she never would be.

“I can feel your energy, Jaimie,” Mack said softly and turned his head to look at her.

The jolt, the thrill, she got every time he focused on her was pathetic. His eyes seemed to look right into her soul, a silly cliché, but Mack could make her feel like the only woman in the world just by looking at her.