Ghostwalker 05 - Deadly Game

constant. Hell, he hadn't been able to get it up at all after the torture, and now it wouldn't go away, bulging and painfully swollen with need, wedged along the seam of her buttocks. She couldn't fail to feel how much he wanted her. The sway of the Escalade only added to his increasing discomfort, as her bottom rubbed over him.
    He was starving to taste every damn inch of her, was desperate for the feel of her bare skin against his – and the heat of his body was affecting her as well. Her breath quickened, her breasts rose and fell beneath the shirt she wore, her body moved restlessly, sliding over his, causing a burst of pleasure throbbing through his cock.
    He needed to slide his hands beneath her shirt and feel hot skin, cup her breasts and tease her nipples into hard peaks. He wanted more than that – so much more. He wanted to eat her like candy, take her fast and rough, hearing her soft little cries, her moans, begging him for more. Always more. He had to keep her wanting him – tie her to him sexually. He could do it – he had no doubts about that.
    Her mouth was made for kissing, for sex. He could only fantasize about her mouth around his cock, her teeth scraping over the scars, her tongue dancing over him. She would be kneeling in front of him, cupping his sac, her fingernails raking over him, drawing out his pleasure, and all the while her chocolate eyes would be locked with his, while she took him down her tight, hot throat, watching what she did to him – loving what she was doing to him.
    He had never lusted after a woman the way he did Mari. His heart thudded so loud he thought it might burst through his chest. His blood heated to boiling, rushing through veins sizzling with fire, and spreading through his body to sensitize every nerve ending. His pulse thundered in his ears, roaring to bury his body into hers.
    He would seduce her slowly, teasingly, lick and suck and bite her breasts and nipples.

    Just an edge of pain. She would stare up at him with her large eyes, a little shocked, but breathless with need, silently begging him for more – and he would oblige. He'd show her who her man was, ruin her for anyone else, make her crave his touch – the hot lick of his tongue over every inch of her body.
    He wouldn't be able to be easy when he took her; he'd struggle for control, but she'd be too hot, too tight, her velvet-soft muscles clamping around him as he plunged into her, driving hard, taking possession of not only her body, but her soul. She was his and he was going to make certain she knew it.
    Mari could see erotic images dancing in her head. Her stomach muscles clenched hard, her womb spasmed. She couldn't help but react to the desperate hunger in him. His was a dark seduction, rough and edged with violence, the images dominant and filled with raw lust. She swallowed several times, her mouth dry, her heart pounding as she met the sheer intensity of his silver gaze.
    Her breath stilled, caught in her lungs as his gaze drifted possessively over her, hot and aroused and filled with naked desire. She could feel fingers stroking over her breasts, almost feel the bite of his teeth, the lap of his tongue teasing her nipples, fingers stroking her inner thighs until her body wept with need.
    Stop it! Mari circled his neck with her arms, pressing closer so he could feel the hard peaks of her nipples. You're killing me here. You can't do this with the others here. We aren't alone.
    I can't do this without them here. If we were alone, I'd strip you naked and eat you alive.
    God, Mari, do you have any idea how bad I want to lay you down and fuck your brains out? Damn it. That didn't come out right. It's more than that – far more than that. Because he wanted her to belong to him. He wanted to wake up every morning looking at her face, find ways to make her laugh, take years to know every facet of her personality. He didn't know why, but that need was every bit as strong as the need to be deep inside of her.
    He could smell her musky scent, calling to him. She was damp with need, reacting to his graphic fantasy and language. Instead of being afraid or repulsed, she was reacting. A part of him wanted to weep. Any woman should run screaming from his mutilated body. In his fantasy, the images in his head, he had been explicit, his cock scarred with multiple cuts, his balls covered with them. He hadn't held back the need for rough sex, yet she wanted him.
    Just the thought of her wanting him made him so