Samurai Game (GhostWalkers #10)(78)
Author: Christine Feehan

I am picturing you at my feet right about now, with that pretty mouth of yours filled with my cock.

Really? Her head went back against his chest. Her arm came up around his neck to draw his head down to her lips. She kissed him, drawing his tongue into her mouth until he was groaning at the simulation of what he wanted. You had only to say so. It will be my pleasure.

The joy in her voice, in her mind, made his body all the hotter. He hadn’t known until that moment that his enjoyment was off the map because of her enjoyment. That was the reason his body responded to her the way it did. Crazy hard. Hot and pounding with urgent need. So close to loss of control. Mind-blowing.

Azami turned in his arms, her br**sts brushing enticingly against his chest. She pressed a kiss over his heart and then on various scars along his ribs and down to his belly. His breath caught in his throat as her hands cupped his balls, rolling and squeezing gently before sliding up to circle the girth of his cock. His breath left his lungs in a rush.

She took her time, just the way she did everything. Careful. Fully engaged. Complete concentration. And so damned loving he felt he’d died and gone to heaven. Her soft lips brushed over the sensitive velvet head, small kisses, her tongue swirling around to catch the pearl droplets. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she went to her knees in front of him, her gaze locking with his. The sight of her sent his heart pounding and his h*ps rocking. She was the most beautiful woman—the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

One hand slipped between his legs, massaging along his inner thigh, her fingers moving progressively higher as her mouth slid over the head of his cock. Hot. Wet. Tight. Her tongue danced over and under, hitting that sweet spot that sent a shudder of pleasure down his spine. Fire raced through his veins and raged in his groin, roaring like a firestorm in his belly. Her mouth tightened around him and her fingers found that spot right behind his balls, caressing and massaging while her mouth worked over him.

This moment was for him—all for him; he could see it in her eyes. The giving. The gift of her body to him. The selfless act of passion. The joy in her vibrated through her mouth straight to his hard flesh. The small hand at the base of his c**k began to squeeze and release in time to the pull of her mouth and the massaging of her fingers. The suction was hard and tight, and then slow and easy, shallow and then deep with that clever little tongue teasing at the one spot that kept his body shuddering with pleasure.

Sam couldn’t take his eyes from her even as his h*ps began to take over the rhythm, his c**k on fire in that silken, wet tunnel. Take a breath. Because he needed this now. He couldn’t stop the small thrust that took him deeper and damn it all, he’d been proud of being long and thick, but he was pushing her to the limit and he couldn’t stop the need building in him—raging in him. Another. He pushed deeper each time, holding there for just a moment while she squeezed and massaged his cock, while the fire burned out of control in his cock.

She gave herself up to him, coughing a little, but following his command each time he told her to take a breath. The heat built and built, the pressure never ending, never letting up. He could feel the fiery storm in his balls, and those clever fingers never stopped massaging, pressing deeper just as she took him deeper, her mouth so tight, so silky, he couldn’t stop the hard thrust of his body as she took him over the edge.

Her long lashes fluttered as her throat worked, but she was valiant and determined, her mouth loving him as he poured into her. He stayed for as long as possible in pure ecstasy before slowly softening while her tongue washed him the way her hands had done, with meticulous care and total commitment.

Sam’s knees threatened to give out. He stood on shaky legs waiting for his brain to work again. Azami stood up gracefully, a small pleased smile on her face as she leaned over him, her hands cupping him gently so she could place a kiss on the head of his cock.

“Thank you, Sammy. I love pleasing you.”

Before he could find his voice, she padded barefoot into the bathroom, and he could hear her rinsing out her mouth with the unhurried, fluid movements he had come to expect from her. He stood in the middle of the bedroom, breathing deep, shocked that his life had changed in the blink of an eye, shocked that a woman such as Azami could possibly give herself to him the way she did—so completely.

She reentered the room, looking just as innocent and demure as she had earlier, as if she hadn’t just taken him to heaven. She reached for the small lacy bra that matched her underwear. “The garrote is such a thin wire it doesn’t show up on airport security. And if it did, it simply appears to be an underwire. It’s very comfortable, so much so, I forget it’s there most of the time.”

The moment she began to talk weapons in that sweet, soft voice, heat curled in the pit of his stomach. He sank down onto the bed to prevent himself from making a total fool of himself and falling at her feet. “Nice. I have mine sewn into the seams of my jeans.”

She nodded. “I do that as well.” She drew a pair of soft, straight-legged black trousers up her slender legs. The material was deceiving, stretching, easily moving with her body. She added a red silk blouse and picked up an intricate belt. She smiled and handed it to him.

Sam took the belt into his palm, lifting it carefully to weigh it. The belt was made of several strands of woven rope. The weave was artwork, decorative and attractive. The belt buckle was small to fit her size, a flat silver, sturdy, with what appeared to be a sunburst carved into it. “Very lightweight.”

“And handy. The rope can hold up to a thousand pounds and yet is easily shot from a crossbow to be used as an anchor to reach another building. The belt buckle is actually a throwing star, or, in a pinch, a grappling hook, reinforced titanium.”

“Very handy. That’s my woman, the walking arsenal.”

She laughed softly. “That’s not the half of it.” The belt went around her narrow waist and she bent to pull on socks.

“Are those made of explosives?”

Her dark eyes regarded him soberly. “I thought of that, but no, too difficult to get to.” She straightened and took a ring from the nightstand, slipping it on her finger. The ruby stone was small, yet it sparkled when she moved her hand. “A tiny amount of powder that can render temporary blindness.”

Sam shook his head and caught up his clothes. She really was a walking arsenal and, God help him, all the sexier for it. He watched her reach for her ruby earrings. They dangled delicately from her ears, twin fiery stones at her lobe and several rounded pearls on the end of five braided chains. He raised his eyebrow. No way did he believe the simple jewelry was just that.