Deadly Game (GhostWalkers #5)(96)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Don’t.” Her fingers twisted in his hair in an attempt to stop him. She had thought he would take her, relieve the terrible craving, but he was already dipping his head, inhaling her scent, his warm breath blowing over her very core. He moved with deliberate slowness, so that the room itself expanded with the building heat, so that her skin was so sensitive just a slight breeze from the window across her ni**les sent flames streaking over her, burning her from the inside out. “You can’t.” She was nearly sobbing, pleading. Terrified he would kill her with pleasure.

“I can,” he murmured, his mouth against her damp heat.

He stroked a sensual lick over her swollen clit, and another strangled scream escaped. His mouth closed around the bud, suckling, his arms pinning her thrashing hips, holding her still while his tongue continued to torment her.

Mari couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel the streaks of fire burning her alive. His hands were hard on her thighs, holding her open for his pleasure. He made little circles with his tongue, and his teeth rasped over sensitive nerve endings; he licked and sucked, and she went mindless with ecstasy. All the while he controlled her bucking hips, holding her firm against his mouth, taking what he wanted, driving her higher and higher but never allowing her release.

Only when she was pleading helplessly, her small muscles rippling and contracting, did he lift his head, lust etched deep in the lines of his face. He moved over her, trapping her slender body beneath his, the head of his shaft at her entrance, pushing just inside, insisting she accommodate his length and thickness. “Look at me, Mari. Keep looking at me.”

Mari opened her eyes and stared into his. He thrust hard, driving through tight, swollen muscles, burying himself deep, stretching her, filling her, sending her rocketing over the edge with that one stroke. She heard herself scream, but she couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t find her voice, could only flail helplessly beneath him, trying to dig her fingers into the mattress for an anchor.

He rose above her, his face settling into harsh lines as he began to ride her. Each stroke was brutally hard, forcing his shaft through the tight, slick muscles of her sheath, the friction hotter and growing more intense with every stroke.

The terrible hunger never had a chance to ease; it surged high, building all over again, so that she was riding the edge of pain with him. The sensation only seemed to add to the violence of her arousal. His scars dragged over her swollen, silken inner muscles, so that her sheath gripped and clenched around him greedily.

She couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop the tightening of her muscles, locking down, clamping, squeezing, and contracting around him as her pleasure began to swell to agonizing proportions. It was terrifying to feel so much, to not know where pain started and pleasure ended. She fought the sensations, fought him, twisting and thrashing, but he never stopped the hard, brutal thrusts taking her higher and higher.

She actually felt his shaft swelling inside of her, growing hotter, stretching her impossibly. She gasped as her body spasmed, the sensations erupting into a wild explosion. Her orgasm ripped through her, ferocious and powerful, as he jerked, his face muscles tightening, his teeth clenching. She felt their hearts beating through his shaft, felt him swell even more, and then his h*ps bucked and hot jets of his release pounded at her rippling, quaking muscles.

“Yes, baby, that’s it, milk me dry.”

She couldn’t stop. Her body clamped down around his, draining him, greedy for him. A harsh groan escaped his throat as his body pumped into hers. She actually felt faint, the edges around her shadowing and darkening. She clung to reality, refusing to be so weak that she would faint from sheer pleasure. There were tears in her eyes, in her throat. Nothing could be this good. Nothing could ever feel like this again.

Ken lifted his weight onto his elbows, hanging his head while he struggled to breathe. He caught her tears with his tongue and then kissed the corners of her mouth.

Mari touched his face. They were still locked together and he was smiling down at her, something very close to love on his face. She swallowed hard. “I can’t move.”

“You don’t have to move. Just lie there and look beautiful. I’m just getting started.”

Her eyes widened. “Started on what?”

“You, sweetheart. I’ve got all night to learn what you like best.”

Chapter 20

Feeling drowsy and entirely satisfied, Mari woke to find herself wrapped in Ken’s arms. His body was tight up against hers, his erection pressed against her bu**ocks. She couldn’t believe he could possibly be hard again and ready, but the thought excited her. He had ridden her throughout the night, over and over, his voice growling rough orders in her ear, his hands every bit as demanding as his mouth and body, as if he could never get enough of her. She didn’t want him to ever get enough. Before she could move, stroke her palm over his tempting hard-on, his soft laughter tickled her ear.

“Get the hell out of here, Briony. You’re such a brat. We’re sleeping.”

“You’ve been sleeping for hours. I want to meet my sister.”

Mari’s heart pounded, but she couldn’t look up, didn’t dare. Her mouth went dry and her stomach rolled.

“Jack! Damn it. I’m na**d in here and this is just wrong. Your woman has no sense of propriety.”

“Stop being a baby. I’m just looking at my sister, not you, so don’t flatter yourself.”

Ken laughed and the sound ripped through Mari like a tidal wave, knotting her stomach with something all too close to jealousy. She recognized the emotion although she’d never experienced it before. Ken didn’t laugh that often, but she could hear the easy affection in his voice. He genuinely cared for Briony, and Ken didn’t care for that many people. It had never occurred to Mari that she might be jealous of another woman—especially when that woman was her pregnant sister.

Ashamed, she took a deep breath to calm herself. Life was happening too fast for her. She had wanted to see Briony her entire life, yet now, faced with the reality, she was frightened. Mari forced herself to look up, to smile, to pretend her heart wasn’t thudding in her chest and that one wrong word, one look of disappointment wouldn’t crush her—destroy her.

Briony was short, with platinum and gold hair. She wore it a little longer than Mari, a little softer style. It framed her face and called attention to her large, dark eyes. She had an obviously rounded tummy, but the rest of her remained slim. Mari stared at her sister, astonished at how much they looked alike, yet how different at the same time. Briony was everything she was not. Soft. Feminine. It really showed. Even her body was subtly different, and it had nothing to do with the pregnancy. She had softer curves, where Mari’s muscles were small, but defined.