Ghostwalker 08 - Street Game

explosion tore through her womb, rushed through her stomach like a rolling fireball, into her breasts, down her thighs, as wave after wave hit her.
    Just as she thought she’d hit the peak and the rolling ecstasy was subsiding, her body gripped his even harder and hot seed splashed deep, triggering another, even more powerful inferno that engulfed her completely, sweeping her body into a frenzy of flames so that she writhed, so that strangled cries emerged. Her heart pounded and her lungs burned. She burned.
    She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t break his hold on her, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was proving a point. He gave her what he wanted to give her. Lust, brutal and strong and controlling, such pleasure she might not survive it.
    He’d give her his protection. But it was going to be on his terms, not hers.
    “Don’t you ever fucking leave me again, Jaimie,” he whispered hoarsely, his gaze boring into hers. “Do you understand me?”
    She had no voice; she might never be able to speak again. She licked dry lips and managed a nod while deep inside, where no one could hear, she was screaming.
    Mack searched her face for a long time before he seemed satisfied. He collapsed over the top of her, sprawling on her as he used to do. It was only then that she realized he still had his clothes on. She was completely naked and she hadn’t even realized he was nearly fully clothed until she felt his weight blanketing her. The material hurt her sensitive skin and he must have known it because he nipped her chin with his teeth, and then pressed a kiss over the sting before rolling off of her.

    141

    Jaimie closed her eyes as she flung one arm across her face. There was no hiding.
    She couldn’t pretend away the breathless cries or her ragged breathing as she fought for air. There was no way to fake her response to him. He knew exactly what he did to her. He lay next to her, one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, just as he had done so many times before while she lay wishing sex—great sex, mind-blowing sex—would be enough to sustain her, but knowing it would never be.
    She hoped he’d go to sleep just like the many other times he’d worn himself out again and again until neither could move and then, without saying a word to her, he’d wrap her up in his arms and fall asleep. Now she didn’t want to talk, and he was stirring.
    She’d always loved him, from the first moment she’d seen him, so big and sure of himself. So completely confident. Just the opposite of her. It had been hero worship all those years ago and Mack had treated her like a puppy, a little girl all eyes and a mop of curly hair with a brain too advanced for her years. He’d seen her through all those awkward times with a casual protection that evolved into something fierce and primitive.
    Jaimie had always wanted to belong to him. She had been desperate to belong somewhere— anywhere —all her life, and there was Mack. He was everything she didn’t have. And it was dangerous to be desperate, to love someone too much. She didn’t think that was possible until right at that moment. She lay naked on the floor of her workroom, her heart pounding, head roaring, weeping inside. She wasn’t strong enough to resist him, and she never would be.
    “I can feel your energy, Jaimie,” Mack said softly and turned his head to look at her.
    The jolt, the thrill, she got every time he focused on her was pathetic. His eyes seemed to look right into her soul, a silly cliché, but Mack could make her feel like the only woman in the world just by looking at her.
    “I know. You’re right, my talent is getting stronger. And I’m not screaming in pain. You were able to shield me.” She was screaming in pain, he just couldn’t hear her. “I guess we’re both growing stronger.” She didn’t get as much control of her voice as she would have liked, but if she was lucky, he would put the tremor down to regaining her breath.
    He pushed himself up and looked around for her clothes. His hands were unsteady as he caught up her shirt. “There’s something magical that happens when we’re together.”
    It was the last thing she expected him to say. Her breath caught in her throat.
    Mack didn’t say things like that. He didn’t have an ounce of the poet in him. He was all warrior, slashing eyes, grim, tough face, sure of himself. She could only nod her head, her throat closing unexpectedly.
    “Sit up, baby. We made enough