Part 17 (1/2)
Her toes curled.
Nodding, she held her breath as he dipped his head . . . and gave her what she wanted, fixing his mouth on her c.l.i.toris and sucking hard, his hands clamped on her inner thighs to keep her spread for him. Every so often, he'd move his thumbs on the delicate, sensitive flesh, adding to the tumult of sensation that had her gripping at the sheets, then at the muscled warmth of his shoulders.
Even as she sobbed her ecstasy, her nerve endings shredded with the sweet, hot pain of s.e.xual pleasure, his voice was a dark caress in her mind. Harder? Softer? Like this? Or do you prefer this? Each question was accompanied by an erotic demonstration, her body her lover's instrument. What about this? Strong white teeth grazing the swollen flesh of her c.l.i.toris . . . then pressing down the barest fraction.
Pleasure wracked her, left her a ruin.
Rising to kneel above her quivering body, he curved his hand around her throat in an act of possession that had become darkly familiar, and bent to her mouth. The taste on his lips was her own, and it was an intimacy that should've been shocking, but nothing was shocking, nothing was taboo when it came to the man in her bed.
A slave to him, her body soft with pleasure, she said, Let me do these things to you.
His hand releasing her throat only to close over it again. We may have to build up to that. Even obsidian won't hold if you put your mouth on me. Not yet.
The black velvet of his tone made her s.h.i.+ver, her body undulating toward him on a fresh wave of need. She had waited so long for this, for him, and now her flesh was ravenous, her soul greedy. Please.
Tell me what you need. He moved his hand from her throat to between her legs.
Sahara flinched as his thumb brushed her c.l.i.toris, her fingernails digging into his upper arms. It's too sensitive. The realization frustrated her-it felt so good when he touched her there that she wanted only to experience the sensations again. But there was something she wanted even more.
”You should know this pleasure, too,” she whispered as he put his palm over her damp flesh, the rough warmth of him a subtle caress. ”Teach me what feels good on your body.” She ached to kiss and pet him as he was doing her, burned to see those cardinal eyes drenched in the same storm that had sucked her under.
Watching you o.r.g.a.s.m gives me extreme pleasure, was Kaleb's unvarnished answer as his lips sought hers once more. Feeling you sticky and damp against my tongue, my fingers, your body soft under mine, your aroused nipples rubbing against my chest, that's what feels good.
Sahara's breath turned jagged, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising and falling as she fought not to drown under the erotic onslaught. Until this instant, she hadn't known words could be as sensual, as arousing, as touch. Even more so when she knew Kaleb wasn't saying the words with that intent-he was simply stating facts, her pleasure his own.
He tapped her c.l.i.toris again. Still sensitive?
Yes, she managed to answer through the acute bite of sensation.
Let's try this instead. Breaking the kiss to focus his attention lower on her body, his expression steely in its intensity, he pushed at the tightness of her entrance with his finger, and when she s.h.i.+vered, hands falling to fist in the sheets, worked that finger slowly inside. Yes? Hair tumbled over his forehead, he looked up, their eyes locking.
So much power, she thought, such unyielding control. It should've made her feel at a vast disadvantage. It didn't. Because this was Kaleb. ”Yes.” A moan of discovery as he slid his finger out, then pushed it back in just as slow. ”Yes, please.”
A second finger, and all at once she'd had enough, her womb contracting with an emptiness that hurt. She might not ever have done this act before, but instinct told her what experience didn't. ”You,” she said, and it was an order. ”I need you.” Only Kaleb.
His responding kiss was a naked demand, his tongue licking deep. ”Spread your legs wider,” he commanded when he released her mouth, withdrawing his hand and rising to rid himself of the rest of his clothing at last-to reveal a body that made her feminine core clench.
Gloriously naked, his erection heavy, he settled between the legs she'd spread for him, one of his hands on her thigh, the other palm-down beside her head. Their gazes locked again as he began to push inside her with the blunt tip of his p.e.n.i.s, her hand on his nape, her body slick and ready but still so tight against the thick intrusion of him. A painful kind of burning had her hissing out a breath, but below that was a need that wanted, hungered.
Are you hurting?
I want this hurt.
Sweat dripped down Kaleb's temple, his jaw a brutal line, but he maintained the slow, inexorable push of his body until his erection was buried to the hilt inside her. Sahara. Pa.s.sion-flushed cheekbones and eyes stormy with so much power it was akin to looking into the heart of a thunderstorm.
I feel . . . perfect. Tight and full to the point that it was almost pain and exactly where she was meant to be.
When he shuddered and pulled out an inch, she cried out, the friction of his rock-hard p.e.n.i.s against her sensitized flesh an erotic shock. Kaleb thrust back in, only to repeat the withdrawal and reentry, the hand on her thigh s.h.i.+fting to her hip to pin her in place as he dipped his head to kiss her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sucking on one of her nipples before releasing it through his teeth.
The caress made her internal muscles flutter around him. His body turned rigid, the tendons of his neck standing out starkly against his skin, the veins on his arms pulsing as his muscles went taut. But Kaleb had learned control in a vicious crucible-he didn't break even under the intensity of the sensations. Kissing her again as she hooked one of her legs over his hip, he pulled out all the way, then pushed back in with ruthless patience.
Writhing beneath him, the abrasion of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest a sensual counterpoint to the harsh possession of him inside her, she moaned into the kiss. He swallowed the sound and once more repeated the slow, complete withdrawal and return, stretching her swollen tissues until her c.l.i.toris throbbed. Slick as she was, her body lubricating itself in rippling waves of pa.s.sion, his size made taking him an effort-a hotly erotic effort that had her breaking off the kiss to issue a breathless feminine demand. ”Faster.”
Are you sure? His fingers dug into her hip.
”Yes!” Gripping at his back, she attempted to arch her body toward him . . . but he was already pulling out.
Only to slam back in. Hard.
Sahara screamed, her body clenching around Kaleb's in an o.r.g.a.s.m that felt as if it would tear her to pieces . . . and that was when Kaleb's control snapped. There was nothing practiced about the way he pounded deep into her over and over again, nothing restrained about the way he wrenched her head to the side to kiss and suck at her throat, nothing calculated about the way he bent her thigh upward then pushed it wide to facilitate a deeper taking.
It was primitive; it was rough; it was spectacular.
Coming so hard around him that her thoughts were nothing more than splinters, she held on tight to the sweat-slick muscle of his body, his heart beating a drum that matched her own and his fingers almost bruisingly tight on the bottom of the thigh he'd pushed up. Kaleb, my Kaleb. It was a claim pa.s.sionate and possessive as pleasure tore her apart.
Kaleb came in violent silence, his breath harsh against her ear and his body rigid. The hot wet of his possession as his s.e.m.e.n pulsed inside her made her erotically abused muscles spasm again, clenching tight around him. Jerking, he raised his head, eyes of obsidian holding her own as he drew back one final time, then thrust deep past her clenching muscles.
”Mine. You are mine.”
They were the last words Sahara heard before Kaleb's kiss tore her apart, his body locked with her own as they fell.
Chapter 27.
”WE'VE SHARED DNA,” Kaleb murmured to the woman who lay in his arms afterward, knowing he should've told her the ugly truth before this, his only excuse being that he hadn't believed she was anywhere close to accepting him inside her body. ”There may be consequences.”
”No.” Sahara raised her head from his chest, eyes smudged with lingering echoes of pleasure. ”I made a discreet visit to another one of the M-Psy in the clinic when my father”-a hitched breath-”went in to check on a patient yesterday afternoon. I've known the medic since childhood, and she made the necessary changes in my body chemistry without any intrusive questions.” Her fingers rising to trace his lips. ”I knew this was inevitable.”
”Good. It's better if my DNA isn't pa.s.sed on.”
”Why? You're smart, beautiful, powerful.”
”I'm also mentally unstable and may have tendencies toward criminal insanity.”
The softness faded from her expression. ”Kaleb, I refuse to call anything you did under Enrique's coercion a choice. That was his insanity.” Flat, absolute, daring him to argue with her. ”I'm not without intelligence. I know you've hurt people as an adult, but I also know you would have done so with a rational motive,” she said, seeing him with a clarity that was a razor.
”Power, control, money, you'd always have had a reason for your actions, whether or not those actions were justifiable.” Hard words, and yet her hand remained spread over his heart. ”The criminally insane don't have any rational reasons for their actions-what Enrique did? He found a sick pleasure in it. Did you?”
”No, but the seed lives in me.” Nothing could alter the pitiless biological fact of it. ”That night after I killed the swan,” he said, speaking the truth for the first time in his life, ”Santano told me that the paternal name on my birth certificate is a lie.”
Unwilling to believe anything the other Tk said, Kaleb had waited until he was wealthy enough to make arrangements for anonymous DNA tests, his intent to disprove Santano's words. ”I confirmed the fraud as an adult.” It had taken him ten cycles of testing to accept the truth of his tainted blood.
Struggling up onto her elbow beside him, Sahara pushed back her hair, a frown marring her brow. ”How can that be? DNA is cross-checked at birth to make sure of genetic lines.”
”Money and power can alter anything.”
He watched Sahara digest what he'd said, saw the instant of realization. ”Santano Enrique,” she exhaled. ”That b.a.s.t.a.r.d was your father?”