Lethal Game (GhostWalkers 16)

He reached down, caught his shirt and ripped it over his head, tossing it to one side. He wanted to be skin to skin, although right at that precise moment, all he could think about was feasting on her, gathering that taste of hers on his tongue. He gripped her thighs and pulled them apart, so he could wedge his broad shoulders between them.

“Malichai.” She said his name. A little breathless. Ragged.

He loved the sounds she made. She wasn’t quiet, but she wasn’t loud. Just soft moans and the occasional shattered cry of his name.

“I’m right here, Amaryllis. I’ll take care of you. It’s going to be good, I promise you.” He was already nuzzling the inside of her thighs, the shadow along his jaw like sandpaper, arousing the nerve endings in her body even more.

He took one taste, just a long sweep with his tongue, and his entire body reacted. Dark desire slid down his spine. She flung out one hand and gripped the edge of the futon mattress, the other settled in his hair, fisted there, as if she might deny him what he wanted. He tightened his hold on her bottom, lifted her hips easily to him and settled his mouth over her.

Amaryllis’s breath left her lungs in a rush of heat. It was all she could do not to scream. She was unprepared for the way it felt to have Malichai’s mouth on her, his tongue and teeth. The assault on her scattered senses sent her almost into a panic. Nothing had ever felt so good, yet at the same time, it was a takeover. A complete, absolute takeover.

Malichai held her still easily, his strength enormous. There was no letup in him. He drove her closer and closer to something huge. She could feel the tension coiling in her tighter and tighter, the pressure unrelenting. Fear slid through her, creeping down her spine and spreading through her, adding to the nerve endings that were screaming with arousal. Whatever was waiting, crouching there, swelling out of control, growing so large it was like some dark wave—a tsunami—threatening to engulf her, take her over . . .

Then it hit, moving through her, swamping her senses, drowning her in pleasure, spreading through her body like a wild, out-of-control sweeping entity. Alive. Fierce. Pounding through her. Taking her mind and throwing it into complete chaos. She didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed, but the stars were brighter than ever, bursting behind her eyelids while rockets went off. Little bursts of color scattered across her vision.

Then he was stripping, and she caught a glimpse of his body. He looked chiseled. Hard as a rock. His chest and abdomen nothing but sheer muscle. His cock impressive and a little intimidating.

He stroked his hand from her throat, down her breasts to the little curls on top of her mound. She pulsed with need, desperate for him to be in her, even while she was a little frightened that he wasn’t going to fit.

“Shh, sweetheart. It’s going to be all right, baby.”

His voice was like black velvet, sliding over her skin, caressing her, setting off another round of sparks as his fingers slid into her. She couldn’t help responding, riding them, her needs overcoming any sense of embarrassment. Any inhibition. He tore at the condom package with his teeth and quickly rolled it over his heavy erection.

Amaryllis had no idea she was making any sounds at all. She heard them now, those soft little whimpers that meant anything and everything from fear to desperation. She felt the broad flared head at her entrance. Hot. Slick. Velvet and firm at the same time. Large. Lodging in her. His gaze burned into her, branding her, claiming her. She loved the way he looked at her. So focused. So completely hers. There was nothing else in his world at that moment, only her.

He didn’t surge into her but rather invaded gently, persistently, when her tight muscles tried to refuse him entry. Her breath caught. She was somewhere between real pleasure and real pain. She couldn’t figure out which it was, but she knew she didn’t want him to stop.

“Relax for me, baby,” he encouraged. His hand stroked her belly with that patient gentleness she was coming to associate with him.

She made an effort to do as he instructed, and he slipped in a couple more inches. It felt scary and wonderful. The burn was exquisite—it was also terrifying and painful. She felt a part of him. The cool night air teased at her body like fingers sliding over her skin. Above her was his face, that beloved face, his eyes looking down at her with a mixture of lust and something else, an emotion she had never believed in, but now was beginning to accept might actually exist—in this man.