GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

shone like a cat’s in the night, a glitter of excitement—her heart in her eyes. Those extraordinary soft lips were parted as if she was a little breathless. She was so beautiful to him his chest hurt. A lump formed unexpectedly in his throat, threatening to choke him.
    He wanted to feel love and he knew she was the one who would show him how. In his life, he had pushed aside his own needs, his own desires until Azami. He wanted to know love at its deepest, most profound, most elemental level. He needed Azami to give him everything, and from the look in her eyes, there was no doubt that she intended to do just that.
    The moment he set his foot onto the porch, she launched herself at him. He caught her in midflight, drawing her into him. Her legs clamped around his waist and her arms circled his neck, her mouth settling on his. The world shifted and dropped away, as fire burst through his mouth, down his throat, and into his belly to race to his bloodstream, igniting an urgent need.
    Now. Right here. Don’t wait. I need you in me.
    Her soft plea took his sanity. There was nothing left in his mind but her. She was everywhere. In his mind, in his heart, wrapped around his very bones. He kissed her over and over, drinking her in, devouring her, while the fire just burned brighter and hotter. He dropped his hands to his jeans, thankful he’d managed a couple of showers on the way home to rid himself of the jungle grime.
    “Please, Sammy, hurry,” her small, breathless voice whispered in his ear. Her small teeth bit at his earlobe and then her tongue stroked along his neck. “I’ve waited forever for you.”
    He managed to get his pants shoved down enough to free his aching cock. He gripped her hips. “Are you ready for me, honey? Are you certain?”
    The urgency of her need was contagious, gripping him fiendishly, so that his lungs burned for air and his cock throbbed. He didn’t wait for her answer, but pushed his hand between her legs. She was slick and hot, her hips already moving urgently. He laughed, the sound sheer joy as he steadied his cock.
    “Lower yourself right over me, Azami,” he whispered, taking a gentle bite along her neck. She felt so perfect against his body. “Think of it like putting the sword into its scabbard.”
    She didn’t hesitate but pushed herself down onto him. He was thick and hard, invading her feminine sheath, meeting that tight, exquisite resistance that squeezed him like a fiery hot velvet fist. He felt the rippling and bunching of her muscles as she lowered herself over him, her breath coming in ragged gasps, soft little moans like music in his ears.
    He waited until she was fully seated and he was stretching her, pushing up against her cervix, giving her body a few moments to adjust.
    She lifted her face to his again for those long, almost desperate kisses. He found himself eating at her mouth, drawing out all that welcoming sweetness. The wind rushed around them, blowing her hair in a whirlwind, cooling the heat of their bodies, but only fanning the flames into a fire-storm.
    He caught her hips as he pulled his own hips back. “Ride me, honey. And it’s going to be a wild ride.”
    She answered him by holding his neck tighter and lifting herself to drop back down over him, sending red-hot fire streaking through his cock and spreading through his groin into his belly and down his thighs.
    “I need you wild, Sammy. I feel a little wild.”
    That breathless confession was all it took. He forgot about holding on to control and took her hard and fast, his body slamming deep into hers, over and over, driving like a jackhammer, a steel spike, while the flames poured overand around him. Hunger clawed at him, making him a madman. Hot friction sent sensations careening to every part of his body while he pistoned into her tight, hot core.
    Azami’s breath rushed from her lungs in raw gasps as Sam’s hands controlled her hips, driving her up higher than she imagined possible. There was no controlling the pleasure rising, pouring over her as he pumped hard and fast. She clung to him, her anchor in the storm of passion, her body tightening until she was strung out on a torturous rack. She heard her soft little pleas and couldn’t stop herself, her moan rising to a crescendo as he thickened, stretching her, filling her until she thought he would find his way into her womb.
    The explosion, when it came, was mind-numbing, her body clamping down hard on his, gripping with