Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(67)
Author: Christine Feehan

He felt her body open to his, unfolding like a flower. So tight, so hot, so velvet soft. He pushed into that hot, wet channel, felt her surround him, grip him hard, and draw him into his secret paradise. There was nothing like her in the world, no other place he’d rather be. His breath hissed out between his teeth as she settled over him, so tight she was strangling him, setting him on fire. The roaring in his head quieted.

The jackhammers ceased. There was only the volcano roiling in his belly and the fire streaking through his veins.

There was only her smile. Her eyes. Her luscious body wrapped around his. There was the way she loved him. All of her. Everything. There was tenderness, something he hadn’t known about but she taught him.

She moved then, riding him slowly, her gaze locked with his, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. She arched her body, her br**sts moving with every undulation of her hips. She was beautiful. Sexy. Uninhibited. The fall of her hair, the sheen on her skin, the way their bodies came together, sent his nerve endings into overdrive.

He let her set that lazy, mind-blowing rhythm for as long as he could stand it, let her drive him to the very edge of his control, a slow, sensual ride. She made small circles with her h*ps every few strokes, sending electrical sparks sizzling through his groin and smoldering in his belly. His c**k was on fire, his body no longer his own, but hers. She took him higher and higher, her sheath gripping his c**k so tight his teeth clenched as streaks spread through his body driving out everything but bliss.

Ecstasy.

There was nothing but this ride. Their bodies coming together, the blood roaring in his ears, the feel of her soft skin, the sight of her perfect br**sts.

His fingers dug into her hips, signaling to her that he meant business now. That he was taking control. She laughed softly. Her breath warm. Her eyes slumberous. Her body fiery hot. She did this little thing with her muscles that dragged over his sensitized cock, increasing the friction. He drove harder, deeper, letting the fire consume him, burn through him, burn him clean, burying himself again and again in her heat—his heat.

He dreamt of her like this. Liquid heat surrounding him. Her soft moans. Her soft pleas begging him to fill her body, to never stop. He didn’t think he could live without her. He’d been without her once, and he knew what he’d lost. What a gift she was. He swore the energy between them became more powerful when he took her. Every sensation seemed to intensify when he pounded into her body, sheathing himself again and again.

He felt the shiver moving through her body and knew she was close. Her soft little cries grew breathless. Urgent. He waited. He needed. Everything in him gathered and centered, waiting. He plunged into her wet heat again and again driving her closer to the edge.

“Mack. Please. Oh, God, please.”

Satisfaction. Elation. A powerful aphrodisiac. Her need of him. That soft little plea that meant the world to him. He needed that plea almost more than she did.

“Oh, yeah, baby. For me,” he whispered, his voice harsher than he intended.

Her entire body shuddered. Vibrated. Rippled with shocking intensity. And then he heard his own hoarse shout as she locked down on him like a vise. He felt the boiling in his balls, the rise of his ejaculation, jet after jet of hot seed, the hot release milked out of him by her strangling grip. Her body contracted over and over, rippling through both of them, tearing up through her womb to her belly and br**sts. His body bucked against hers, matched her shudder for shudder. Waves of pleasure shook him as he emptied himself deep in her. He felt absolutely free. Absolutely light, as if she had lifted a huge burden from him.

He held her close, burying his face between her neck and shoulder, feeling the ripples course through her body, feeling the grip and release of her body surrounding his. He loved this moment, when they were joined together, when the blood roared and pulsed exactly where they were joined and their hearts beat there together, in the center of their beings. He felt they shared the same skin. He was no longer Mack McKinley, the brutal man who made life-and-death decisions. He was clean inside.

She’d saved him for a little while longer.

He turned his head and took possession of her mouth. He let her legs slowly drop to the floor, all the while kissing her, his mouth fastened to hers, melded there together, taking the very breath from her lungs. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. He kissed his way down her throat, licking at the sheen on her skin, finding the valley between her br**sts, tugging and rolling her ni**les while her body shuddered in reaction. She moaned low and long in her throat, sending sparks of arousal streaking through him, although he was spent and sated.

Her face was flushed, her mop of unruly curls damp. He framed her face, staring into her eyes. Jaimie. He could barely breathe with the overwhelming way she made him feel. Emotion welled up so strong it shook him.

She smoothed back strands of his hair. “I love you, Mack.”

The intensity in her voice shook him. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers while his hands shaped her body. He wanted all night—weeks, months, years—with her. Her eyes changed. Went dark. Shadowed. Her body, so soft and pliant, stiffened, and she pulled away. An inch, no more, but it might as well have been a chasm and he wasn’t having it.

He bunched her hair in his fist and pulled her head back until she couldn’t look away from him. “Tell me.”

She hesitated and he tightened his grip, his teeth coming together with a snap.

“We’re not doing this. Tell me.”

“Do you love me, Mack?”

His breath rushed out of his lungs. He should have known—should have been ready. Love. What did that mean? That a man couldn’t escape? That he didn’t own his own soul? He detested that word. There wasn’t a word for what she was to him, what he felt for her. She was part of him, like breathing. She was the rising sun, the stars overhead. The most turbulent storm imaginable. Everything. Was that love? Was that what she was asking?

“I don’t know how to give you the words you need, Jaimie. I can only show you. I show you every time I touch you. Can’t you feel it? Will that ever be enough for you?” Because God help him if it wasn’t. He couldn’t lose her again.

Her eyes searched his face inch by slow inch. He held his breath, feeling as if at any moment his world could come crushing down. Her eyes changed. Went soft.

Went liquid. Her body moved against his. Her slow smile warmed him, settled the churning in his stomach.

“I feel it.” Why hadn’t she noticed before? The answer was in the million things he did for her. Jaimie pressed her mouth to his and then trailed kisses along his throat.