He nipped at her breast then pulled hard.
She arched off the granite and because he was present in her mind she almost came. Kerrick … No words followed, just a series of whimpers as he released her breast and started a burning trail of kisses down her body. Her skin and muscles jumped, her hips rocked. He kept moving down and down. He drew his finger from her mouth and grabbed her waist with both hands. He pushed her farther up the granite until her feet found purchase and almost at the same moment, his lips met the soft curls then the flesh of her labia. He nuzzled and kissed, nipped and sucked, all in tender little flurries. Yet he avoided reaching the sweet spot.
She moaned and her fingers found his hair, digging deep and guiding.
So impatient, he sent.
Kerrick. Such torture. Oh, your mind inside me … your lips … oh, God, your tongue. He pressed her apart and blew a stream of air over her until tears tracked down her cheeks.
Please.
Please, what?
Lick me.
He obeyed the command and raked his tongue in one long sweep up her aching flesh. She cried out. He licked again. Her hands became reckless over his long hair, diving, tugging, as her hips rocked hard into his face. He settled in and licked in quick purposeful swipes.
Her cries echoed around the kitchen.
Come for me, Alison. Let it all go.
Power gathered. She could feel it. It’s coming. She tried to warn him, but her thoughts were scrambled, her mind fixed on the intense pleasure, building, building.
Let it come. I’m ready.
His deep voice, so present inside her head, his mind still connected to hers, made her come apart, pleasure streaking over her sensitive flesh as her internal muscles pulsed over and over. She cried out again and again. Power gathered and released from her abdomen, pushing him away, but he only laughed and returned to tending to her with his tongue. He kept the sensations rolling again and again, spinning out another orgasm then another, until she lay slack against the granite.
Her hands fell away from his head. He didn’t rise. Instead his tongue stroked the insides of her thighs. He kissed his way to her opening. “Lavender,” he breathed against her core. “I must taste it.” With his hands on her waist, he dragged her to the edge of the island this time so he could reach her in just the way he wanted. Her legs lay over his back. He was so powerful. Her mind felt heavy and decadent with the weight of his mind in her. His thoughts expressed his intense pleasure, which fired her own.
His tongue stroked over her opening in heavy laps, taking the nectar into his mouth. She cried out as new pleasure began to build, the walls of her core pulling at him as he licked into her.
You’re so beautiful, he laid over her mind.
Kerrick was all she could manage.
The strokes went deeper each time until his tongue worked her in a strong steady purposeful rhythm. He grunted, his hands on her bu**ocks now, his thumbs pressed into her hips. He pulled her toward him with each thrust of his tongue. She’d never been taken like this before. She’d never dared let a man get so close. She felt her power gathering again, as well as the grip of another orgasm.
This one barreled down, the power releasing. When she came and the power hit, he held her firmly in order to sustain the fast driving rhythm of his tongue. She came over and over as he possessed her with his mouth. He was pushing hard into her, determined. She felt blissfully used as another wave of power and another orgasm hit her. She screamed and gripped his head, holding him against her.
She panted.
Slowly, he decreased the speed.
Her own pulses faded in strength and intensity until once more she released his head and fell against the granite.
She was breathing hard, struggling to catch her breath. “That was amazing.”
You’re amazing. His deep voice flowed within her head, still joined heavily in her mind, possessively. She lifted up on her elbows to look at him. He cradled her, his arms beneath her knees. He placed kisses over her blond triangle of hair, her thighs, her abdomen.
“Take me,” she whispered. “I need you inside me.” Tears threatened. She was overcome by a strange combination of intense satisfaction and burning need to be joined to him, a great paradox.
He shook his head, the expression in his eyes pained. In a slow movement within her mind, he began to withdraw. She held him fast with a thought, Stop. Don’t go. Don’t leave yet. I want you … now. And I love that you’re here in my mind with me.
He withdrew anyway, leaving her dizzy and strangely bereft, close to tears as, with a final jerk, his mind separated from hers.
He smiled crookedly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a choice. My f**king phone has been buzzing for the last ten minutes. Given our circumstances, I have to take this call, and I already know it’s Thorne and it won’t be good.”
She folded her hands over her stomach and stared up at the ceiling. Her breath hitched a couple of times. She felt fabric fall onto her hips. Oh. He had bent down to retrieve her pants. However, she didn’t move to put anything on. She hoped maybe he was mistaken and with just a little effort, he could still complete what they’d started.
“Give,” he barked.
After a good long minute, he thumbed his phone, then a long curse, impossibly joined together, left his mouth. “Goddamsonofabitchmother…”
He slipped his phone into the pocket of his jeans. He turned to face her.
She had seen that look before, when he’d told her to fold them both to her Hummer.
She sat up, pulling her bra and shirt down. “We’re in danger, aren’t we? Is the house surrounded again?”
She started to unravel her rolled-up thong, but he caught her hands.
He shook his head. “We’re not in any immediate danger. I’m sorry, Alison. I’ve just had word from Thorne. I’ve been ordered to train you for battle. Tonight. And it’s going to hurt like hell.”
* * *
Marcus woke up slowly. He was curled up on one of the ratty leather barges, facing the back cushions. As sleep went, not bad. He’d been asleep for hours and had an erection that he was just about to shift around and make more comfortable when he realized he wasn’t alone. He reached out with his senses and felt the presence of six large pissed-off warriors, not a difficult deduction when there was a taint to the air, like someone had lit a box of matches.
“Looks like Sleeping Beauty is never going to wake up. Aw. He must have had a hard night of fighting. He’s not used to the sword and dagger. Pobrecito … we should just let him sleep.” Santiago, the bastard. Marcus lifted a hand and expressed his feelings with his middle finger.