Possession (Fallen Angels #5)(73)
Author: J.R. Ward

This was going to be over so soon, too soon, but she had no self control—

“Oh, God,” she shouted.

The release shattered through her, sending her flying even though her corporeal form never left the Earth. And Duke was only a moment behind her, his hips jackhammering into her and then freezing as he locked in against her core.

Deep inside of her, just as he’d told her, his arousal kicked, the spasming cueing off another orgasm for her.

Cait was panting hard in the aftermath, and as he collapsed on top of her, she loved the weight of him—and the fact that he had wanted this as much as she had.

“I thought about this all night,” he said into her ear. “All night … I had the fever for you.”

As she laughed, she was surprised by the sound—it was like something from a movie, uttered by the siren in the film, not the sensible neighbor/friend/homely girl who was second fiddle.

It wasn’t anything she had ever heard come out of her mouth before.

But she hadn’t had sex like that before, either.

“Did you,” she drawled as she subtly arched, creating friction in all the right places.

Nuzzling at her throat, Duke gave her a soft bite. “You like that I couldn’t sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to know what I did to myself? To pass the time?” Now he was the one drawling, his voice slow and lazy. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He began to move inside of her again. “I sleep naked, you know.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned.

“And I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”

Cait squeezed her eyes together as her body jerked under his, images of him lying on a bed, head kicked back in ecstasy as he pleasured himself to thoughts of her, making her pant again.

“Come for me, Cait,” he commanded.

And she did.

Duke orgasmed for the second time within minutes of his first release, his c**k having a seemingly endless appetite for the undone, half-naked woman underneath him.

The sounds she was making were driving him as crazy as the feel of her was, her sex holding his c**k tight as a fist, her flesh hot and wet as he drove into her again and again, riding out both of their releases for as long as he could.

But he couldn’t keep taking chances like this. Condoms were a one-use-only kind of thing, and he wanted to take care of her in the right manner.

As was his way, he didn’t waste any time—as soon as he wasn’t seeing double from clenching his jaw, he reached between them and held the condom in place as he withdrew. Yup, twice in a row was not safe—and with the way he was feeling? Give him another minute and a half and he was going to be tempted to go for number three.

He was so not interested in stopping—and he had another Trojan, but goddamn it, he was too impatient for that.

Dropping his head, he found one of her ni**les and ran his tongue around it as he adjusted his position, his knees moving off the boat cushions and finding the decking. Handling Cait harder than he would have liked, he shuffled her around as he kept kissing his way down her body—and like she’d read his mind and wanted exactly what he did, her knees fell wide, her thighs parting as she arched up for his mouth.

Gripping the insides of her legs, he swept his palms upward until he reached her heat with his fingertips. Stroking her, he watched from above as she writhed on the cushions, the luscious planes and angles of her body contorting in the shadows, the fact that she wasn’t completely naked making everything seem even hotter.

When he couldn’t stand the teasing for a second longer, he covered her core with his mouth, sucking at her as he reached up and palmed her br**sts. From a distance, he heard her call his name, but all sound was filtered through the prism of an almost unholy need to possess her, to get inside of her, to clothe himself in all this heat of hers.

Her slick flesh was so smooth against his tongue as he licked at her and then penetrated her, dipping deep inside of her. And because he wanted her to orgasm for him again, he rubbed his thumb in circles at the top of her sex, urging her up to and over that awesome cliff.

She came against his face.

And he f**king loved it.

So much so, he didn’t stop. He drove her harder, giving her another one as he put a hand down to his c**k and squeezed hard, pumping up and back.

He said her name against her flesh as he ejaculated—

A loud clapping sound went off behind them, and he instantly came back online with reality, jacking up from between her thighs and wrenching around as he put a hand on her lower belly to hold her in place.

Just the door.

In his haste to get on her, he hadn’t bothered to check that it had re-latched itself, and the wind had blown things wide and then sucked them shut.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “I got this.”

Wiping his mouth and jaw with his hand, he stalked over and closed the panels properly. It was time to go, though. He didn’t care about getting caught, but he was willing to bet she did.

“That scared me,” she said as he came back over.

She had pulled down her shirt and was bent in half, obviously tugging her panties back into place. As she straightened and got to her feet, he thought her re-dressing should have counted as a crime.

“Next time,” he heard himself say, “I want to f**k you in a bed.”

Chapter Thirty-two

Wash your hands, G.B. told himself. Just wash your frickin’ hands.

This is going to be fine.

As he stood over the sink in the basement of the Palace Theatre, his heart was going a million miles a minute. But at least his vision had cleared and he could see the industrial faucet in front of him, and the deep-bellied sink, and the bald bulb that hung from a chain over his head.

“Wash … your … hands.”

He’d taken the heavy-duty gloves he’d used off … but he still felt like he had to clean himself.

He closed his eyes, but that was not a good idea. Not for his brain and not for his balance. As he opened them again, he was at least able to stop himself from listing to one side. The images in his mind? They persisted, raw and with sound and smell.

As he rubbed his soapy palms together, he looked for something else to clean them with even though there was nothing on them, some kind of heavy-duty—

Bleach. There was bleach in a dusty bottle under the sink, along with some other chemicals.

The Clorox burned as he poured it on both his hands, first the left, and then the right. The stench was horrible, but this part of the theater’s vast basement complex wasn’t exactly a flower shop—which was a good thing.