Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire #1)(56)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“Say my name, Cain.”

He frowned at her.

“Who am I?” she whispered to him.

She was the woman who’d shot him. His fingers began to tighten around her.

“Who. Am. I?” she rasped.

“Mine.” It almost hurt to say the word, but it was the truth. He knew that with all his being. This woman—small, deadly—was his.

And she’d betrayed him. Killed him. It was his turn to punish her.

He pushed her back against the rocky wall of the tunnel. Kept one hand around her throat.

“Cain—”

His mouth took hers. He was rough, he knew it, couldn’t stop it—didn’t even care to try. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and he took what he wanted.

Her.

He’d died for her. He figured he deserved her. She owed him.

His c**k was stretching, aching with arousal. His clothes were gone. They never survived the fire. His flesh pressed against her, but it wasn’t good enough. He wanted more.

He began to push her down to the ground.

Her eyes were so big in the darkness. Wide. Afraid.

For some reason, her fear stirred the rage that was always so close to the surface for him. His hand fell away from her throat.

Instead of pushing her down, he lifted her up, caging her against the rocks with his body. Her hands lifted and wrapped around his shoulders as she fought to find her balance.

But she wasn’t fighting him.

He put his mouth on her throat. Licked her. Sucked her delicate skin. Let her feel his teeth.

The vampires had thought they’d mark her.

No. He’d be the only one to mark her.

“Cain . . . come back to me,” she whispered. Emotion filled her words.

He growled and his fingers went to the snap of her jeans. He yanked the jeans open. Shoved his hand inside and pushed past the silk of her panties.

She was smooth. Soft.

But not wet. He was hungry for her, ripping apart with his lust, but . . .

She didn’t want him.

“I’ll make you want me,” he promised. She had to want him. She was the only thing the beast wanted. Without her. . .

Fire. Madness. Hell.

“Say my name,” she told him again, her voice that husky purr that had his c**k jerking eagerly against her. “My name, say it. Let me know that you’re back with me again, Cain.”

But there was a wall of fire and fury in his mind. He looked at her and knew only that she was his.

She’d killed him.

She’d made him burn.

He f**king needed her . . .

His hand rested between her legs. He pushed a finger inside her. She gasped beneath him. Her hips arched.

She likes it when I lick her neck.

The knowledge whispered through him as his mouth settled on the column of her throat. He touched her with his lips. His tongue.

She shuddered against him.

His fingers pushed into her a little more.

He nipped her flesh.

Another shudder and . . . he could feel the wet heat of her arousal beginning to moisten his fingers.

His thumb pressed over her clit. She gasped at the move, and her hips arched again, the move almost helpless. Not trying to get away, she was pushing closer to him.

He pulled back his hand. Put his fingers in his mouth. Tasted her.

Yes.

He was the one to fall to his knees. His hands grabbed her jeans and the thin slip of her panties. Yanked them down. Tossed them away.

Her hands curled over his shoulders. “W-what are you—”

His hands wrapped around her hips. He pushed her back, just a step, then lifted her up. “Spread your legs.” A guttural order, but he had to taste more of her. Was desperate for more.

All he knew was a haze of lust and need. Want her. Take her.

Slowly, she spread her legs.

He lifted her higher. Positioned her so that his mouth hovered right over her sex.

Then he took her. His tongue thrust into her sex and she jerked against him. Good. Her taste filled his mouth. Cream. Woman. Sweet and rich and perfect on his tongue.

He tasted her. Took from her. His tongue licked over her skin, over her clit, and then thrust into her sex. She whispered his name. Her nails sank into his shoulders.

When she came, he felt the climax against his mouth. It made him hungry for more.

Another lick. Another taste. Then he surged to his feet. His body was tight, aching, his heart beating too fast and his blood seeming to burn his veins. He needed release. The explosion of climax. He needed—

“Cain.” She sighed his name as her arms wrapped around him.

He needed her. The witch who’d killed him. The woman that he knew belonged only to him.

His c**k pushed between her legs. He didn’t hold back. Couldn’t. He thrust into her as hard and as deep as he could go. He wanted to take everything from her.

Because he was hungry for everything.

Her gasps filled his ears. His body drove into hers. Over and over. The fire filled him, burning him from the inside out. She jerked at the feel of his hands, and he tore them from her. They were too hot—

She can handle the fire. A whisper from inside. An instinctive response. My fire won’t hurt her.

He slammed his fists into the wall behind her head. Rocks and dirt rained onto his shoulders. Fire sputtered from his hands.

And still he took. Too fast. Too hard. She couldn’t match his rhythm. He couldn’t stop.

“Cain.” His name. Breathed this time as she held him close.

His name. His woman.

His thrusts grew even wilder. Her legs were locked around his hips. Holding tight. Her hands braced on his chest as she drove her hips back down against his. Again. Again.

He erupted inside her, driving into her and shuddering with the force of a release that gutted him. A pleasure that ripped past the fire and the hell and touched the man caged inside him.

“Eve.” Her name broke from him.

She came around him, shuddering, her sex gripping him and greedily taking the last of his orgasm.

She was Eve . . . his Eve. His memories flooded back to him. Vampires had been attacking. They’d been coming for her. Clawing her. Biting him. He’d told her to kill him.

She had.

His fingers rose from the rock wall. Slowly, carefully, he pushed back the curtain of hair that had fallen to conceal her face from his view. His fingers curved under her chin, and he tilted her head back so she had to meet his gaze.

“Eve,” he said her name again, almost tasting it. He could still taste her.

Her lips quivered, then curved into a slow smile. “You’re . . . coming back to me.”

He was. But he was still fighting the beast inside. A beast that wanted only to destroy. To burn.