“My pussy,” she managed.
“Sweet little pussy,” he corrected, and bit her other thigh. She jerked and cried out, liquid heat glistening for him. She was totally made for a man like him.
He knelt up, drawing her legs around his hips, forcing her body to stay wide open to his. With one hand he circled the base of his cock. He felt heavier and thicker than he’d ever felt in his life. She’d done that to him and he wasn’t even in her.
“Look at me, Flambé. Keep your eyes open and look at me.” It was a command, nothing less, and he meant it.
Her golden-emerald gaze clung to his. He didn’t wait, couldn’t wait one moment longer. Without warning her, he slammed home, driving through her snug folds, that tight, scorching-hot tunnel that robbed him of breath. Flames raced through his body, down his spine, roared in his groin and burned like a firestorm in his cock and balls. Nothing that had come before her had prepared him for what she felt like. Nothing. No one.
He needed to move harder. Deeper. To feel that raging storm over and over. He wanted the flames to consume them both. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back, holding her hips off the mattress as he surged into her, driving so hard he nearly pushed her toward the headboard. He could feel every single fold and muscle in her silken sheath clamped around his cock, gripping him with a fury, holding him as if a million fiery tongues licked and teased, as if a voracious mouth sucked at him and fingers pumped to milk him dry. The sensations were unbelievable. He never wanted to stop.
Sevastyan pistoned into her over and over, watching the expressions chase across her face, watching passion and lust war with adoration and trepidation. Tension coiled in her. He felt her heart beating out of control right through her tight tunnel straight to his cock so that the pounding rhythm of his cock hammering into her seemed to match the wild fury of her heart.
He pressed his finger into the seam between her cheeks, sweeping back and forth at that same pulsing pace. Rubbing, pressing into her, brushing those marks that might have caused her discomfort, as if he would erase them and give her so much pleasure she wouldn’t remember anything else. All the while, he thrust into her, deep and hard, working her body. His cock was thick and each time he thrust into her, the friction was unbelievable perfection.
Her orgasm hit them both unexpectedly, sweeping through her without warning, nearly taking years of discipline from him as her body clamped down, biting like a vise on his shaft, exquisitely painful, burning, scorching, somewhere between heaven and hell. He kept surging into her, powering through tight folds as they contracted and released over him ferociously.
Flambé’s scream was soundless as she orgasmed but then as the first wave began to ease, she moaned, the pitch so perfect and beautiful, it only spurred him on. His body seemed to swell impossibly, a reaction to the place he never wanted to leave. Pure pleasure. Scorching-hot paradise. He tightened his hold on her and drove into her over and over, knowing he would never be able to stop his own release when her body took over again.
He indulged himself, all the while watching her expression, ensuring she was enjoying the ferocious sex. The flames burned over his skin and roared through his body, bursting through his veins. He could feel an unfamiliar boiling in his balls, as if a thick magma had found its way in and now was so overheated it had to find a way out. The eruption was going to be imminent, violent and nothing short of spectacular.
; This time he saw fear building in her eyes. Her head thrashed on the pillow as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in her body. Her gaze clung to his and she dug her nails into his arms to anchor herself as if she feared she might fly away. He didn’t slow down. It didn’t matter that his lungs burned for air. Nothing mattered but that scorching heat that threatened to consume them both. He needed this every bit as much or more than she did.
Sevastyan slammed into her exquisite, perfect sheath one more time, and then her muscles bit down like a vise, clamped so hard he couldn’t breathe or think. Thunder roared in his ears. Silken, fiery tongues, millions of them, all scorching hot, licked and worked at his cock, determined to milk him or suck him dry. He could feel that tight tunnel like a burning fist pumping and squeezing his shaft until rope after rope of hot seed coated the walls of her perfect, beautiful, exquisite little pussy over and over.
He allowed himself to collapse over the top of her, but purposefully dropped a little to one side so he didn’t crush her with his weight. He kept her legs wrapped around him, his jerking cock in her while they both fought for air. He felt every aftershock of her body ripple right through his spent cock. It was the first time in his life that his cock had ever been fully sated. Ever. He closed his eyes and savored the moment. The feeling.
She had done that. Flambé. He didn’t try to think beyond the moment. Not right then. He let himself feel her under him. Her body was all feminine. Her scent filled his lungs. He had never thought to have a woman lie in his bed but she felt as if she belonged there. He had prepared his room with the hope—with the idea—that one day he might find his own woman. His cousins had been successful. He hadn’t really believed it possible, but when he bought the property from his cousin’s wife and renovated it, he had made the specific changes to the bedroom to give himself the hope or the reminder that there was no hope. He was never certain which it was.
“Sevastyan?”
Flambé sounded so tired he was immediately ashamed of indulging himself even further by just lying half over the top of her.
“What is it, baby?” He kept his voice gentle.
“I need to take a bath, but I’m so tired I don’t think I can move enough to get back downstairs.”
“I didn’t make it clear that you would be sleeping with me here in this room from now on? I’m fairly certain I did, Flambé. Maybe you were too excited to listen to me. It’s been a long night. We’ll move your things in here and I’ll program you into the security code so you can come and go as you please. Let me get the water running for your bath while you rest.”
He lifted his head and looked down at her face. She had her eyes closed. She looked as if she was already drifting off. He wasn’t sure by the expression on her face if she was happy with the idea of sleeping in the bedroom with him. The thought made him smile. Wasn’t the woman supposed to want to sleep with her man?
He brushed kisses over her eyelids and then her nose. “Thank you, malen’koye plamya. You were quite amazing as a beginner at our rope practice. I should have taken your picture, but I didn’t want to leave you in the ropes too long.”
“I loved the ropes.”
He could hear the honesty in her voice, but she didn’t open her eyes. Her face was very relaxed. He loved the way she looked. He wanted to roll her into him, curl around her and fall asleep just that way. That was an interesting idea to him when it had never occurred to him to sleep with another human being in the same room, let alone in the same bed or touching his skin. When he’d thought about having a woman of his own he hadn’t considered exactly where he’d have her sleep. He wanted access to her all night, but he didn’t think he would just curl around her and go to sleep. That was what restraints were for—to keep everyone safe.
“I thought the patterns were so beautiful, Sevastyan. You can make anyone look beautiful and sensual in your creations.”
That sleepy note in her voice stirred his cock. He forced himself to move, reluctantly withdrawing from the haven of her body. He had already grown semi-hard again just listening to that drowsy, very sensual bedroom voice she had. As he shifted his weight off of her, she curled onto her side away from him. Her hair spilled across the black of his sheets in a bright splash of brilliant crimson silk.
Immediately, because his mind worked that way, images began to form in his head of her tied, the black background under her, red hair spilling around her; his captive, the shifter, strawberry leopard that she was, feminine, soft, bending, yielding, submissive even, until one looked closer and saw her immense power. The ties would have to be just right.
“Or you made my creation look beautiful and sensual,” he corrected, and kissed the swelling at her hairline before sliding off the bed to go to the master bath to run the water for her.
While the tub was filling, he cleaned himself and returned to her to find her half asleep. Her lashes fluttered, acknowledging his presence, but she didn’t lift her head. He began to pace, trying to decide what to do about the sleeping arrangements.