Carpathian 18 - Dark Possesion

mind, and she felt the sudden shift in him, the way every cell recognized her, wanted her, needed her. His teeth tugged at her lip, nipped and teased and demanded.
    Heat flared, driving away the cold of his skin, pushing out the shadows and sorrow of old memories until there was only this—the ultimate feeling. Sheer bliss.
    "I want to feel your skin against mine," he whispered. His hand was already sliding up her leg, along her calf, up her thigh, inside where she ached and craved and needed him. Where she offered him a refuge and haven.
    His knuckles moved in small circles against her damp core while his mouth ravaged hers.
    Around him, the world dropped away. Both worlds. Shadows receded until there was only the bed of flowers and the fragrance and scent of man and woman calling to each other. He brought both hands up to hold her in his arms, hold her against him, one hand cupping the back of her head as he lowered her to the cradling vines. He wasn't wild this time, didn't want to be. He took great care, slow and easy, wanting to taste every inch of her, wanting to take them both on a silken journey of pure sensation.
    She reached up to push back his fall of silky hair, so long and luxurious, thick, thicker even than she remembered. His hair had been beautiful, but now, maybe because every sensation seemed so much more to her, his hair seemed longer, a thick pelt she wanted to stroke and caress and bury her face in. More than anything, she wanted to comfort him, make him feel whole and alive and so much better.
    Her hand shaped the nape of his neck and she lifted her mouth to his. His kiss matched the lazy, slow movement of his hands as they slid beneath her top to cup her breasts. His thumbs teased and flicked, with that same languorous pace, creating pinpoints of flame that radiated from her breasts to her belly to melt into a pool of molten liquid between her legs. Her body was instantly slick and hot and already eager for his.
    She loved his mouth. The feel and shape of it. The way it was so hot and commanding. No matter how gentle he began, within moments his mouth took over hers, drugging her with kisses, sending flames spinning into a vortex of need. His hands slid over her skin, leaving her writhing for more, so gentle, so patient, that it shocked her when he suddenly tore her blouse open, sending buttons scattering everywhere, lowered his head and covered her breast with his hot, greedy mouth.
    She arched into him, cradling his head, stroking his hair, whispering encouragement, asking for more.
    Manolito lifted his head to look down at her. She was so beautiful, offering herself up to him to make the past all better. If anyone could do it, she could. He was aroused beyond anything he'd ever thought possible.
    Whether she knew it or not, she was in his mind, heightening his needs, showing him her eagerness to please him in anyway he wanted—or needed. She was his own personal playground, but this time, his lust was wrapped in love. He knew it absolutely. There was no way not to love her when she gave him everything without reservation, when she had the courage to hand her body over to a man as dominant as he.
    He dragged the skirt from her body, rid himself of his too-heavy clothes and knelt over her, staring down at her full, ripe breasts. Her nipples were hard and eager. Her legs were slightly spread, so he could see the slick, wet invitation of her body calling to his. With a small growl rumbling in the back of his throat, he lowered his head once again to hers. She opened her mouth to him, accepting the hard spearing of his tongue.
    His teeth tugged at her lower lip, bit at the soft bow as his tongue teased and thrust. Beneath him, her skin heated to a smooth, sensitized silk, so that every time he rubbed his body over hers, she shivered and trembled with eagerness.
    Her hands dropped to his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, trying to hold on, as he deepened the kisses, rough now, demanding, making each one hotter and more addicting than the last. She was drowning, with no way to surface, his hands hard and hot on her body, his tongue capturing hers over and over, drawing it into his own mouth, his lips taking control in the way his hands did.
    His palms slid possessively over her breasts, fingers tugging at her nipples. Arrows of flames streaked down her belly and darted between her thighs. She moaned softly, the sound vibrating down his spine and around to his groin, to hum through his