Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers #9)(83)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Hold on, baby,” he whispered softly.

She reached out and touched his face, looking at him with her almond eyes. “You’re mine,” she whispered.

That one sultry look, the brush of her fingers against his face, and the possession in her voice was his undoing. “Son of a bitch, Rose, you kill me sometimes,” he bit out between clenched teeth. It was either swear or cry when she turned him inside out like she did.

He gripped her h*ps hard and began to thrust into her, driving deeper and deeper, filling her, stretching her, taking her up hard and fast. He felt the silken walls surrounding him clasp and spasm, convulse and contract as powerful waves took her like a tsunami. Her orgasm tore through her, pulsing around his c**k with white-hot heat, until he couldn’t hold back and he went over the edge with her.

She collapsed against him, gasping for air. Kane caught the back of her head in his palm and urged her to bury her face against his neck as they both struggled to regain control of their breathing.

“I love you, Rose,” he told her, the words wrenched from somewhere deep inside him. “I think we need a bed. I can’t ever make love to you properly if we don’t find us a good bed.”

She smiled against his shoulder. “Um, Kane? We have a perfectly good bed. You just can’t wait long enough to use it.”

“You’re always getting up to feed the baby and I have to go find you and then … well … things naturally happen.” He brushed a kiss into her wild hair. “Are you feeling better?”

Her laughter was contagious and somewhat muffled against his shoulder. She trailed kisses over the heavy muscles of his chest. “You’re so insane. Is this what we’re going to do every time I’m upset?”

“Of course. I’m kissing you better.”

“Kissing?”

“And other things.” He nuzzled her neck and then nipped at her. She squirmed, causing her muscles to clamp down on him all over again, a sensation he found extremely pleasurable. He bit down again just to feel the effect a second time.

“You sound so smug.”

“I deserve to be smug.” He was certain he did. She glowed. He’d driven the guilt and fear away for a space of time, replacing the negative emotions with sheer pleasure, and that was what mattered. “I’m good.” He wanted to give her everything she’d never had. He wanted to be her damn superhero, which was laughable when he could never quite find the right words to tell her what she meant to him.

Her soft laughter teased his nerve endings back to full alert. “You’re more than good, and you know it.” She turned her face toward his, her lips slightly parting as if to speak.

Kane leaned forward and fastened his mouth to hers, welding them together. Her body shivered in response, and the little aftershocks rippling through her sheath sent shock waves through his cock. He deepened the kiss, unable to ever just kiss her once. Not when she was so responsive and he loved the taste of her more than anything else he’d ever had.

When he finally allowed her to catch her breath, she clung to him, sweeping back his hair, looking into his eyes. “You’re not supposed to exert yourself, Kane, and you just ran, dove into the ocean, fought with divers, and made love to me. Your doctor …”

He took her mouth again, cutting off her words, taking his time with a slow, lazy kiss. When he lifted his head, she was flushed and her eyes sparkled. He grinned at her. “My doctor is a f**king traitor, sweetheart, and I damn well am not following his orders.”

She narrowed her gaze, those chocolate eyes darkening ominously. Her fantasy lips pressed together in a straight, disapproving line. Her tough look. The one she used when she blew shit up or shoved a gun in his belly. Okay, he was a sick, sick man, because instead of being intimidated like any sane man who knew her would be, he just found her so damned sexy. His cock, still deep inside her, thickened and hardened, his one and only weapon—and a very promising one at that.

“Don’t you dare start,” she cautioned.

Rose put her feet firmly on the floor and pushed up, her sheath gripping him hard, causing nearly unbearable friction on his hypersensitive shaft. His breath caught in his lungs. His c**k jerked. She was supposed to sound tough, he knew that, but to him, she was a breathy little sex kitten giving him the come-on.

Even as she turned away purposefully, intending to stalk her way to the shower, he followed her silently. She got five steps until she was beside an overstuffed chair. He caught her around the waist, pushed her over the arm of the chair, holding her down with one hand on the nape of her neck. With one bare foot, he kicked her legs apart, slipping his hand between her legs to find her damp entrance.

“The first time was for you, Rose,” he said, or tried to say it. His voice had gone hoarse, almost strangled. This was for him. Her body was his. He wanted to fill her up with him. Brand her with him. Leave his scent all over her. Love her until she couldn’t walk or think. Until she knew she would never leave him, never want to leave him alone again.

He slammed home, a hard surge that took him deep, pushing through her sweet, silken folds, until he was completely buried in her, surrounded by all that living, breathing fire. Flames sizzled through his bloodstream, rushing hot to center in his groin. Her soft, breathy moan drove his temperature up another notch, and he lost himself in her. For a few minutes there was only the sound of their bodies coming together, the gasping for air and her sweet, sweet haven, a cauldron of fire burning bright and beautiful surrounding him as her tight muscles clasped him.

He’d had sex, but it had never been like this. He let the sheer pleasure take his mind and he let go, no longer as gentle, pulling her h*ps back into him as he surged forward, feeling her response, the way she pushed back with him. The fire was already threatening to engulf him, but he held it off as he thrust into her over and over. She seemed to flow like hot silk around him, created for him, the taste, smell, and feel of her wiping out anyone who had ever come before.

Her face was turned partially away from him, flushed with heat, with arousal, her dark hair spilling around her in that disheveled, sexy way he loved. He savored her soft moans and breathy little pleas as he pounded into her scorching embrace.

“I dream about us, Rose,” he whispered, unable to stop himself from telling her the truth. He retreated from that perfect heat and slammed deep and hard again, feeling her body shudder in reaction. “I want you like this, so hot, all liquid heat for me—only me—knowing you belong only to me. Knowing you never want me to leave your body.”