Samurai Game (GhostWalkers #10)(75)
Author: Christine Feehan

He shifted again, retracting his hips, and she cried out in dismay. He plunged into her hard and fast, sending streaks of fire racing through her. She heard her own sobbing moan as she tightened around him, an involuntary response, her h*ps lifting to meet his of their accord.

Are you good now?

He was back to rough panting, forcing control when he was on the very edge. Again that little thrill went through her at the idea that she was the one he wanted so much—her not-so-perfect body.

Yes. Please, Sammy.

He bent his head to nip her chin. Please what?

His h*ps moved again, surging forward, burying himself even deeper. Sensations burst around her, fire seemed to arch over her skin.

Make me yours. All the way. I want to belong to you.

Hell, baby, there’s no question.

He moved again, the action making her cry out as fiery heat stroked and caressed. He lifted her h*ps with his hands, holding her still, watching her eyes. Her heart began pounding in nervous anticipation. He plunged deep into her, the stroke filling her, stretching and burning, pleasure bursting through her. He began thrusting hard and rhythmic, over and over, deeper and deeper, never stopping, driving her up higher than she believed possible.

She felt feverish with urgent need, the tension winding tighter and tighter. She couldn’t catch her breath, not with the pounding heat between her thighs, so hard, so thick, invading her senses until there was only Sam and his body welding with hers through pure fire. She could hear the sounds of their flesh coming together, her loud, ragged panting and his harsh breathing. She began to feel the edge of her consciousness fading as fire raged through her, growing into a storm she couldn’t stop.

That’s it, baby, stay with me, let go. Just give yourself to me.

She gasped, arching closer to him, gripping him hard, her body not her own, wild and out of control, lifting to meet the frenzied thrusting. She heard her own cry as his shaft dragged over her most sensitive spot, pressing hard as he plunged again deep into her. He seemed to grow even larger, stretching her until she thought she couldn’t stand the pleasure. A tidal wave ripped through her, her body clamping down hard around his thick shaft, taking him with her. Wave after wave tore through her, the strength of the release shocking, jerking her small body, burning through her body with a force she hadn’t conceived of.

She could feel his body reacting to her muscles gripping him so tightly, milking him dry. She fell back, gasping for air, shocked at the almost violent way she’d reacted to his possession.

Sam, struggling for breath, rolled off of Azami, afraid his weight would crush her, since he was as limp as a dishrag. He lay beside her, one arm slung across his eyes as he fought his burning lungs. He wasn’t certain he would ever move again. The best he could manage was his fingers, sliding across the sheet to find Azami’s hand.

Are you okay, baby?

I don’t know. She sounded dazed. Am I alive?

I’m not certain either of us are. Give me a minute and we’ll go for round two.

He felt movement and managed to turn his head toward her and pry open one eye. She lifted her head and looked pointedly at his soft c**k with a small smile.

“You’re feeling optimistic, aren’t you?” she said aloud, laughter in her voice.

His fingers found her hair, wrapping a length around his fist. He gave a gentle tug and made an effort to find his voice. “That’s a challenge, woman, and all good soldiers find a way to meet a challenge.”

He felt her laughter in his mind, that soft, melting molasses that just poured in and filled him with happiness. How had he ever managed without her?

“I wasn’t challenging you, Sammy. I’m not certain I’ll ever be able to walk again,” she pointed out. “I think I have skid marks inside.”

Alarm spread instantly. “Did I hurt you?”

“You know you didn’t, but we were a little on the wild side. I’m definitely going to be a little sore, but I’m perfectly willing to give up walking.”

Again her laughter poured into his mind. That soft, sensual sound could bring a man to his knees.

“I don’t think we have to go that far,” Sam said, careful not to let his voice shake with emotion. She was a dream he feared he might wake up from all too soon.

“Thank you for remembering to protect me, Sam,” Azami said. “I do want a child, but I want to go into it with both of us knowing what we’re getting into. I can go on birth control. It’s just that I never thought I would need it.”

He turned toward her, elbow on the bed, his head propped in his hand. “Didn’t you think you’d eventually sleep with someone?” Even as he said it, his mind rejected the idea. He put his free hand on her bare stomach, fingers splayed wide. He nearly covered her entire abdomen with his large hand.

Her long lashes swept down, veiling her expression. “I am never around men long enough to get to know them. You and I had an unusual and unexpected connection.”

Her suspicious tone irritated him. “Don’t say one word about Whitney. He doesn’t belong in our bedroom,” he warned sharply.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“But you were thinking it. My connection with you is not purely on a physical level. Whitney can manipulate pheromones, but he can’t make a man fall in love with a woman. He can’t make him want to protect her.” He caught her chin and lifted it, forcing her gaze up to his. “I want to wake up every morning with you beside me. I want to laugh with you. Fight with you. Grow old with you. This—you and me—isn’t about lust, Azami.”

“I know that,” she admitted, reaching to stroke a caress down his face. “I do, Sam. It’s just so—unexpected. When I flew out here, a man was the last thing on my mind.”

“Should I expect one of your brothers to try to take my head off with his sword tomorrow?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You’re in my bed, Azami,” he pointed out.

“You asked permission.”

“To marry you. To court you. Not to sleep with you.”

“I make my own decisions, Sam. They know that.” She smiled at him, that mysterious smile that said so many things. “They know better than to try to tell me what to do.”

“That’s a relief.” He smirked a little. “I wouldn’t want to have to fight a relative.” He forced himself to sit up. “I’m going to run you a bath. I don’t want you sore.”

“You don’t have to do that.”