Viper Game (GhostWalkers 11) - Page 33

He was no kid. He knew prices had to be paid. It would be steep for both of them. He was willing to risk it and he wasn't going to let her back out. His palm curled around the nape of her neck.

In that moment, he recognized just how dangerous he could be and it didn't matter to him. And that was what she'd tried so hard to warn him about. It wouldn't matter. Nothing else would matter but having her. He was willing to burn in hell as long as he could have this. She shook her head, again, her body struggling against his, and he felt his temper rise to meet that challenge.

"You want this," he hissed. "You fuckin' want this, Pepper, just as much as me."

"Not with you. Not to you," she denied.

But she did. It was there in her eyes. In the way her body moved against his. The heat. The fire.

"With me, yes," he decreed in the face of her denial. "Only me, absolutely yes."

Hunger starkly raw, fully aroused, he brought his mouth down hard on hers. There was nothing gentle about his kiss, not one single thing, but it didn't matter. The moment his mouth touched hers, she went up in flames. There was no holding back no matter how hard she tried. She'd waited her entire lifetime for him.

A growl rumbled deep in his throat. His arm was an iron band, dragging her closer, fitting her body into his as his mouth sought to devour her. He drove her back until she hit the side of the Jeep, never once lifting his mouth. Pepper stroked her tongue along his, along the edge of his teeth, feeding the fire, tasting desire. His. Hers. She was familiar with hunger and need crawling through her and clawing at her relentlessly. This was entirely different.

His arousal was a fever pitch matching the terrible heat of hers as he cupped the back of her head in his palm, holding her still, not allowing her to move while his mouth turned her body into pure liquid fire. He'd lit a match and thrown it right into a pile of dynamite without thinking it through, but it didn't matter to her now.

Pepper heard her own soft little growl and her arms circled his neck as she fiercely kissed him back. The wildness in her unfurled. Stretched. Spread through her like a firestorm that raged out of control. Her body moved against his, rubbing like a cat in heat, desperate to get closer to his skin.

Her body was sensitive, too sensitive for clothes. She needed them gone. Her mouth moved under his. Mindless. Insatiable. Hot. She was so hot she was burning from the inside out. He had gone from charming to pure primitive savage, sweeping her up, still kissing her, still devouring her mouth, taking long strides to take them inside the hunting cabin.

She barely recognized the change from outdoors to indoors. She didn't know how she got there. She did know that she was more out of control than Wyatt, and it wasn't supposed to be that way. That didn't matter either. Only the taste of him, bursting on her tongue, sliding through her body, feeding her terrible need, the ache that would never go away. Now it was Wyatt she craved. She was addicted to. Wyatt's taste and the heat of his body, the press of his hard muscles against her softer body.

Her growls of demands had changed to moans and soft little pleas. His growling had deepened, a primal sound of a male claiming his woman. She couldn't think, not surrounded by him. She could only feel, needy, hungry, so breathless her lungs burned.

Wyatt swept her away, commanding her in a storm of fire, ruthless, decisive, yet he was every bit as wild and out of control as she was. He pinned her to the wall, lifting his head to look down into her eyes. For a moment she couldn't breathe. The fire there, the possession, it was stamped, no, carved deep, into his face.

His eyes glittered down into hers, and a shudder of desire rippled through her. Still, there was a ripple of fear. He would own her. This man holding her so tight against the wall was taking her over and she was letting him, already craving him. He matched her heat and fire. She hadn't thought that possible. His face could have been etched in stone in that moment, and it would have been caught for all time, the look of a conquering male predator, sensual and implacable.

She made a single sound of protest, and that was her undoing. Sheer male dominance crossed his face and he dropped his mouth to her throat. He wasn't gentle about his claiming, suckling and biting with sharp stings followed by the heat of his tongue as he left dozens of marks of his possession. He stripped the blouse from her shoulders, snarling as if the material offended him, sending it flying across the room.

"If you want to save that skirt, get it the hell off," he snapped, his mouth already finding her breast beneath the bra she wore. His hands were busy, and the bra followed the blouse, sailing across the room.

His mouth was on her, hot and demanding, and she cried out, a keening wail she couldn't stop. It felt so good. His teeth scraped over her soft skin while his tongue became a wicked insistent instrument of torturous pleasure, pressing over the hard tight bud of her nipple again and again. His arms locked her closer, while his mouth devoured her with an urgent hunger that only fed her own.

He sounded feral, hot growls that rumbled from deep in his chest. "Lose the damn skirt, Pepper," he snarled, and closed his mouth once more around her breast.

She arced into him, a small mewling sound escaping as she desperately tried to do as he commanded. Nonny had given her the skirt and she didn't want it torn, but that thought was fleeting. She couldn't hold anything in her head. There was too much sensation pouring over and into her.

With fierce impatience, Wyatt hooked both thumbs in her skirt and dropped it to the floor. Pepper kicked it out of the way. His fist bunched her hair in his hand and he yanked her head back.

"You're mine. Do you understand me? Mine."

The ferocious declaration should have scared her, not thrilled her, but hot liquid seeped between her legs onto her inner thighs at the glittering look in his eyes. No one had ever matched her fierce passion, the deadly need that stalked her day and night. Wyatt with his burning hunger more than matched her, he took her with him to another place that was both frightening and thrilling.

She waited too long to answer him, and his hand tightened warningly. She could see the fierce cat in his eyes, the driving need for domination, his mate submitting to his will. The prickles in her scalp sent another flood of liquid heat. His other hand went to her nipple, fingers tugging hard, rolling and stroking until she gasped, panting with need.

"Fuckin' answer me, Pepper. You're mine. Say it. And know when you do, there's no takin' it back. We

stand together no matter what. Say it, damn you."

He drew her breast into the inferno that was his mouth, using the edge of his teeth until she cried out. His tongue soothed her even as his fingers tugged at her other nipple roughly.

Her body was no longer her own, burning up, a fiery storm of flames she couldn't control. She needed to feel his skin against hers, but he was still fully clothed. He kept at her body, using teeth and tongue, suckling, tugging and nipping until pleasure and pain mixed into one snarling ball of need that had her crying out, pleading incoherently with him.

He ran his hands over her rib cage, her flat belly and the flare of her hips, possession in the strong fingers everywhere they touched her, as if he was branding her with his own name. It felt like that, his touch a brand, sinking deep beneath her skin to her very bones. The world faded, the room, even the floor beneath her feet. There was only Wyatt with his demanding hands and his mouth and tongue and teeth and the ravenous hunger that only grew between them.

Fingers of desire danced down her thighs, teased the insides of them until every nerve ending she had seemed raw and exposed, throbbing between her legs. She felt the bite of his teeth, of his nails, another mark of possession on her body, his cat DNA feeding his fierce voracious hunger. A sob escaped.

With a low, rough growl, wholly sensual, Wyatt grasped her panties and yanked, ripping them away from her body. His palm pushed hard against her moist heat at the junction of her legs, that fierce furnace, the liquid spilling into his hand.

She gasped, cried out, thrown into an orgasm with just his touch alone. Her body rippled, quaked, tumbled hard into the wild ride as he clamped his hand over her, his thumb pressing deep against her hottest button.

Again. Give it to me again. He snarled the command, giving her no choice.

His fingers pushed deep inside her, thumb stroking, manipulating, while his mouth pulled strongly at her breast and ran up her throat, kissing and biting, until she was nearly mad with desire. He drove her up fast, his hands implacable, fiercely demanding she give him what he wanted. Her body careened over the edge a second time, this orgasm much stronger, ripping through her hard, rushing up toward her breasts and down toward her thighs, leaving her gasping and panting and crying out his name.

Tags: Christine Feehan GhostWalkers Paranormal
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