Ghostwalker 06 - Predatory Game

as she moved in a slow downward glide. She moaned softly as she impaled herself on his thick shaft in a long, languorous rocking motion, inducing such pleasure she nearly screamed. His hands came up to tug at her nipples while he drove again and again through her silken heat. Each time was harder and deeper, sending streaks of fire racing through her body.
    “You like it hard like this?” His eyes glittered at her, dark with a mixture of lust and unmistakable love.
    She could see his muscles bunched, his teeth set as he fought for control, fought to keep the pace slow and leisurely while she learned how to pleasure herself with his body.
    She could only nod while her hips rose, her muscles gripping and squeezing around him. He was going to shatter her, take her apart before he was done. She lowered herself again while he thrust upward, another slow inch by excruciating inch, killing them both with a riot of sensations pouring into them. She’d never felt so wanton as she arched her body to get a different angle, to feel the thick length of him, as hard as steel, pressed against her throbbing clit.
    Her breasts thrust toward him and he leaned in to rake his teeth over the gentle curves. Electricity sizzled, hot and wet from her breasts to her womb to streak like liquid fire through her feminine core.
    One hand threaded through her hair and he kissed his way back up her throat to her lips, once again holding her still. She shuddered, her muscles clenching, her body clamping hard around his, the silken walls of her channel milking him even as he kept her hips from rocking. Her head tossed, her eyes dazed and dark with desire.
    “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Like this. Loving me. You’re so damned beautiful it hurts to look at you.”
    Beneath her bottom, his thigh muscles bunched into hard ridges, and then he was changing the pace, taking her over, plunging deep and hard with exquisite purpose, building the heat until it was out of control. Her breath came in ragged gasps as the piercing pleasure built and built until she thought she might not live through it. She felt as if she were burning alive from the inside out, and if he didn’t keep filling her, stretching her, if he didn’t do something to quench the fire soon, she wouldn’t survive.
    “Please, Jesse.” The soft cry was wrenched from her before she could stop it. There didn’t seem to be inhibition or self-respect. She knew she was pleading—begging for release, but the pleasure was too much, it had to end soon or she was going to go insane. Her mind seemed to be shutting down altogether, and her craving for Jess Calhoun knew no bounds.

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    “It’s all right, Saber, love. Go with it. Let yourself fly. Come with me. Just come with me.” He gripped her hips and plunged deeper, lodging himself against her womb, swelling thicker and larger than he’d ever been in his life, and his balls grew tight and hard, his thighs shaking.
    He moved again, setting a harsh pace, deep long strokes that invaded and receded, each harder and stronger than the last as he pumped into her hot, moist flesh. Around him, her tight, silken channel gripped him hard, milking until the erotic torture nearly strangled him with pleasure. He couldn’t stop the bone-wrenching, muscle-tightening explosion as he climaxed, her body melting and rippling around his.
    She screamed, the sound vibrating through his groin as he flooded her tight sheath with hot jets of his release, as he surged one last time into her, his hoarse shout joining hers. She collapsed against him, falling onto his chest as he fought to drag air into his bursting lungs. She lay with her head pillowed on his shoulder, exhausted, a limp rag doll, her heart pounding so hard she couldn’t bring it under control.
    “Are you all right?” he asked gently.
    “No. I’m never going to be all right again,” she said, meaning it. “Jesse, I was looking for normal. I don’t think that’s what this is. This is obsession, addiction, something crazy. We could kill each other.”
    He rubbed his mouth over her neck. “There’s so much more. I could spend days, weeks, showing you more.”
    “I wouldn’t survive more,” she said, knowing she had to have him again and again. And she wanted—even needed—the more. “What have you done to me?”
    “Nothing that you haven’t done to me.” He stroked caresses over her hair and