GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

even as his hips began to take over the rhythm, his cock on fire in that silken, wet tunnel.
Take a breath.
Because he needed this now. He couldn’t stop the small thrust that took him deeper and damn it all, he’d been proud of being long and thick, but he was pushing her to the limit and he couldn’t stop the need building in him—
raging
in him.
Another.
He pushed deeper each time, holding there for just a moment while she squeezed and massaged his cock, while the fire burned out of control in his cock.
    She gave herself up to him, coughing a little, but following his command each time he told her to take a breath. The heat built and built, the pressure never ending, never letting up. He could feel the fiery storm in his balls, and those clever fingers never stopped massaging, pressing deeper just as she took him deeper, her mouth so tight, so silky, he couldn’tstop the hard thrust of his body as she took him over the edge.
    Her long lashes fluttered as her throat worked, but she was valiant and determined, her mouth loving him as he poured into her. He stayed for as long as possible in pure ecstasy before slowly softening while her tongue washed him the way her hands had done, with meticulous care and total commitment.
    Sam’s knees threatened to give out. He stood on shaky legs waiting for his brain to work again. Azami stood up gracefully, a small pleased smile on her face as she leaned over him, her hands cupping him gently so she could place a kiss on the head of his cock.
    “Thank you, Sammy. I love pleasing you.”
    Before he could find his voice, she padded barefoot into the bathroom, and he could hear her rinsing out her mouth with the unhurried, fluid movements he had come to expect from her. He stood in the middle of the bedroom, breathing deep, shocked that his life had changed in the blink of an eye, shocked that a woman such as Azami could possibly give herself to him the way she did—so completely.
    She reentered the room, looking just as innocent and demure as she had earlier, as if she hadn’t just taken him to heaven. She reached for the small lacy bra that matched her underwear. “The garrote is such a thin wire it doesn’t show up on airport security. And if it did, it simply appears to be an underwire. It’s very comfortable, so much so, I forget it’s there most of the time.”
    The moment she began to talk weapons in that sweet, soft voice, heat curled in the pit of his stomach. He sank down onto the bed to prevent himself from making a total fool of himself and falling at her feet. “Nice. I have mine sewn into the seams of my jeans.”
    She nodded. “I do that as well.” She drew a pair of soft, straight-legged black trousers up her slender legs. The material was deceiving, stretching, easily moving with her body.She added a red silk blouse and picked up an intricate belt. She smiled and handed it to him.
    Sam took the belt into his palm, lifting it carefully to weigh it. The belt was made of several strands of woven rope. The weave was artwork, decorative and attractive. The belt buckle was small to fit her size, a flat silver, sturdy, with what appeared to be a sunburst carved into it. “Very lightweight.”
    “And handy. The rope can hold up to a thousand pounds and yet is easily shot from a crossbow to be used as an anchor to reach another building. The belt buckle is actually a throwing star, or, in a pinch, a grappling hook, reinforced titanium.”
    “Very handy. That’s my woman, the walking arsenal.”
    She laughed softly. “That’s not the half of it.” The belt went around her narrow waist and she bent to pull on socks.
    “Are those made of explosives?”
    Her dark eyes regarded him soberly. “I thought of that, but no, too difficult to get to.” She straightened and took a ring from the nightstand, slipping it on her finger. The ruby stone was small, yet it sparkled when she moved her hand. “A tiny amount of powder that can render temporary blindness.”
    Sam shook his head and caught up his clothes. She really was a walking arsenal and, God help him, all the sexier for it. He watched her reach for her ruby earrings. They dangled delicately from her ears, twin fiery stones at her lobe and several rounded pearls on the end of five braided chains. He raised his eyebrow. No way did he believe the simple jewelry was just that.
    She sent him another smile. She touched the white balls at the end of the chains. “These are not real pearls, just shells to