Street Game (GhostWalkers 8)

"Again, baby, this time go all the way," he ordered and replaced his fingers with his mouth. His tongue speared her and she bucked against him hard, her breath exploding out of her aching lungs. She heard herself sob as the fire streaked through her. Her body thrashed, but he held her firmly, his tongue teasing and stroking, insisting on his way. That fast she flew apart, an explosion of her senses ripping through her body like a hurricane.

Before she could catch her breath, he pulled her thighs apart and stood over her, his cock in his hand, poised at her pulsing entrance. He waited until her eyes locked with his and then he plunged deep, driving through her tight, sensitive folds. Fiery hot. Velvet tight. His body reacted, the scorching heat rushing through his veins like a drug. Addicting. Real. His.

He held her still, open to his invasion as he plunged deep over and over, savoring the grasping, viselike grip of her muscles surrounding him with fire. She made him hot. She made him wild. She made him forget everything ugly in the world. There was only Jaimie with her body and her love surrounding him with such mind-numbing pleasure he sometimes thought he might not survive it.

He could feel flames licking over his skin, surrounding his cock, streaking through his body, down his thighs, up into his belly to settle into a rolling ball of fire. "Damn, baby, you're so fucking tight. So hot." Another low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound so animalistic it shocked even him. Nothing mattered but the fire building.

Her muscles tightened around him, locking down, imprisoning him in a velvet inferno. "Don't. Baby, you've got to stop or I'm never going to hold on." He wanted to be there forever. Live there. Just stay locked inside of her where fire purified them both. Streaks of flames blazed through his cock, teased his thighs, and raced down his legs to his toes.

He plunged deep into that scalding heat and she writhed again. His breath hissed out, a harsh, rough demand. "Stay still, Jaimie."

Pure need rode him now, a thousand demons intent on prolonging the ecstasy. He set his teeth and gripped her legs, jerking them over his arms as he levered over her, thrusting hard over and over while her soft mewling cries accompanied the frantic, harsh rhythm he set. The tension grew and stretched in him. He felt the boiling in his balls, as they drew tighter and tighter. He didn't take his eyes from her face, watching her every inflection, every transparent expression, each nuance. Every time her breath hitched or she arched her body, or thrashed her head, he slammed home, driving deeper, claiming all of her, taking her body for his own.

Her cries crescendoed as the tension wound tighter and tighter and the fire built into an all-consuming blaze. This was the moment, this tightening of her body to the point of pain around his cock, strangling, gripping, drawing thick jets of seed from him so that ecstasy tore through him, taking him soaring. She screamed, the music he'd been waiting for, and he caught her flailing hands, anchoring her as her body rippled and pulsed, milking his.

He collapsed over her, his hair damp, a fine sheen of sweat glistening over his skin while the aftershocks rippled and danced around him, her muscles tightening and releasing, taking the last of his seed from his body.

Mack pressed kisses over her belly and between her breasts and then rolled over and stared at the ceiling so that both of them lay half on and half off the bed. "You know one of the things I missed most?" Besides her sense of humor. Her brain. The way she looked at him as if he was the best man in the world. He turned his head to look at her. "The way you always woke me up in the morning."

He couldn't imagine the feeling her mouth created, that warm, amazing pleasure, the moment of complete awareness; there was only reality or nothing. Fantasy didn't cut it, not when he'd had the real thing. She paid attention to detail. She always had. What turned him on. What made him hard as a rock. What made him lose his mind and thrust helplessly into her silken mouth. Jaimie always made him feel as though she loved every part of him, as though bringing him pleasure was her pleasure.

"I missed it too," she admitted. She touched her fingers against his until he tangled them together. "I love making you happy, Mack. I always have."

He rolled onto his side and propped himself up, pushing damp curls from her face. "I need you to tell me the truth, baby. Can you live with what I do? I swear to you, I'll leave it for you. We'll find something else."

She shook her head. "I know what you need in your life, Mack. I've always been about making you happy. I like keeping your house, and cooking for you. I love waking you up in the morning and meeting every need you have. I've always loved being yours. I needed to know what we have isn't all about sex and I've learned that. We're so hot together, so wild and out of control sometimes, that I needed to know there were feelings involved."

"See, honey." He leaned in to kiss her. "I just don't get that. How could you not have known?"

She smiled at him. "I guess women need the words sometimes, Mack."

His teeth flashed at her. "You're going to be getting words, honey. We've got to get you packed before they call me. You know it will be soon."

"I'm going to work, not just stay home naked waiting for you."

"I know you will. You always have. And you want a baby, we'll have a baby."

"Do you?" Her gaze remained steady on his.

A slow smile warmed her. "If I'd thought about it before, I'd have realized having you tied down with children only helps my cause. Sure. I can handle a few kids."

"That boy, Dae-sub, he was an amazingly stoic teenager. He was tortured."

"He's his father's son. And he protected Mi-cha as best he could. I have to say, honey, I didn't feel too sorry for Armstice thinking about him in the hands of Dae-sub's father."

"Sergeant Major said the Special Ops team drove them right to the front gate of the Korean embassy, got out, and walked away, and just left the car."

"A guard was waiting. He drove the car onto the embassy grounds and they were all officially taken into custody. The great part was, they had no idea what happened or how they got there. The only one to escape us was Blaine. He was outside the embassy, waiting to call reporters and film the kid's death. If North Korea or China manages to pick him up, all to the good."

She sat up, trying in vain to tame her disheveled curls. "I hope the general can figure out who paid Armstice to kidnap those children."

"Believe me, they'll find out," he said grimly. "And did you read the newspaper report on Jefferson? They gave him a wonderful burial. A heart attack. Very sad. A good man cut down in his prime." He glanced at his watch. "We'd better get moving. We've got a lot of packing to do. I'm not going without you and if they call . . ."

"You've got to go."

"And you'll be coming without all of your fancy equipment."

Jaimie straddled his body, settling over his hips, her knees on either side of his thighs. "Are you absolutely certain we have to go right this minute?"

He reached up to wrap a hand around the nape of her head, slowly pulling her down to him. "I guess we've got a little time." He fastened his mouth to hers and just let himself drown.

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by Christine Feehan

WILD