Ghostwalker 04 - Conspiracy Game

of pleasure, plunged deep to dance, to stroke, to draw the honey out of her. Her womb contracted, stomach clenching, and her hips rose off the bed as she gave a little sob—somewhere between utter ecstasy and fear of losing her mind.
    Jack took a firmer grip on her hips, drawing her even tighter into him, needing to hear her cries, to know that he was the man giving her such pleasure. His hands began a slow exploration of her body, deliberately seductive while his teeth and tongue sent her nearly spiraling out of control. Hot licks and teasing bites, he drove her higher and higher. Her hips thrashed and bucked under his assault, the searing heat setting off a series of small explosions. Instead of relieving the terrible ache, it only built it into a stronger tidal wave of pulsing heat.
    Briony pulsed with fierce need, arousal so strong she thought she might not survive. Her mind was a haze of need, so that she began to plead with him, afraid of the nearly savage intensity of pleasure. Jack knelt between her legs and drew her to him, his eyes glittering with raw possession—with stark craving. He thrust hard, burying himself deep, driving through her tight folds, taking her over the edge. She exploded—imploded—strong currents of electricity dazzling her while her body simply fragmented and wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her.
    And then Jack began to move. Every movement of his hips sent a shiver of pain through his body, but it mixed with the building heat, the building pleasure. She surrounded him with hot friction, her slick folds tight, her muscles strong, gripping him as he surged deeper and deeper, and all the while she stared up at him with dark chocolate eyes, dazed with heat and passion.
    He shifted her slightly to get the angle that would press him hot and hard over her most sensitive bud, and he picked a faster, rougher rhythm that had her crying out his name.
    Jack. Not aloud. Whispered in his mind. Aching. Stunned pleasure consuming her mind. He wanted to pound into her with a frenzied need, but the innocence in her eyes, the emotion on her face, forced him to keep some semblance of control. He wanted her to remember this moment forever, because it would be forever etched in his mind. He watched her face, saw the intensity increase, felt her body grip his. She gave a soft cry, the sound mingling with his harsh yell, and he emptied himself into her, pouring everything he was into her, body and soul.
    “Again,” he growled.

    Jack sat on the edge of the bed staring down at her face. She looked so young—not a line on her face. Her eyes, when she looked at him, held so much innocence. She saw him as the man he could have been—not the man he was. He killed without remorse. Demons sat on his shoulder every minute of the day and drove him hard. He wanted her—but if he kept her, there was every possibility of becoming the man his father had been. His father had looked at his sons with cold, empty eyes, eyes filled with hatred for being near their mother.
    It was time stolen from him and he wouldn’t put up with it—not from them—not from anyone. No one could touch her, speak to her—she was his possession.
    Jack and Ken had made a pact together, a sacred oath, that neither would ever risk destroying a woman the way their father had their mother. His father had loathed them, twin boys who took up their mother’s time, received her smiles—and her love. There were beatings that became more and more vicious as his obsession grew.
    God help him, Jack felt that way about Briony—that terrible need to keep her to himself, to hold on too tight. He couldn’t fool himself into thinking he wasn’t already a little obsessed. He was capable of killing—had done so before he was in his teens—and now, faced with looking at the monster he’d become—he had to give her up. She deserved a normal man—one capable of loving without possession and jealousy and fear. It was the only gift he could give her. He knew, when he walked away, that no other woman would ever do, but he couldn’t take her and watch her innocence and light slowly fade, to be replaced by fear the way it had been in his mother.
    Briony stirred, murmured his name in her sleep, and reached for him. His heart clenched hard. He leaned close to her. “Once I’m gone, Briony, don’t come near me again,” he whispered. “Not ever, because I’ll never be able to give you up twice.”
    Her eyes opened and she smiled at him.