Christine feehan - Dark Slayer 20

He brushed a kiss over her forehead, then down to the corner of her left eye. A small shudder went through her body. He kissed the tip of her nose and the corners of her mouth. Her lips parted slightly. Hunger welled up in her, swamping him so that for a moment his mouth hovered a scant inch from hers while he fought for control.

He took her breath first, drawing it deep into his lungs, and then he took her mouth, his lips settling over hers, absorbing the shape and texture, the soft firmness, the building heat. His tongue slid along that slightly parted seam, the small invitation.

Ivory's breath caught in her throat. He was leading her down an unknown path of temptation, and she was just too far gone to resist. His kiss was sinful, his mouth a wicked excitement that filled her with such need she couldn't stop her response. He whispered something, sexy, nearly imperceptible, as his tongue swept into her mouth, exploring the hot recesses, running seductively over her teeth and claiming her body for his own.

She knew that was what it was. A claiming. Taking her body and making it his own. His thumbs brushed across her nipples and she nearly cried out, the sound strangled by the lump rising in her throat. Streaks of fire raced from her breast to her clit and her womb clenched. He kissed her over and over until she felt delirious, but one part of her was always focused on his hands. On waiting. On needing.

She stood there with him fully clothed, his dark, streaked hair pulled back so that he looked in control while she was naked from the waist up with her hair tumbling in every direction, a wild, wanton bundle of nerves that finally understood that her destination was this man. This journey she took with him, no matter how frightening, wasn't being taken alone. He had allowed her to lead the way in her field of strength. He was asking her to give herself up to him, just as he had done for her.

He wanted her trust. Wholly. He wanted her to give him everything she was or would ever be without pride or ego, trusting he would cherish her gift for all time. His kiss had been a match, lighting something deep inside her that flared up now, something feminine and alive and needy beyond belief. She wanted to please him. She wanted to be his solace. His pleasure. His everything.

Her tongue slid along his, dancing and teasing, as she pushed her aching breasts deeper into his palms, needing that next brush of fire. His kisses were addictive, burning hot until she knew passion was spinning out of control and her mind was hazy with desire. He bit at her lower lip and the sting sent a lightning strike sizzling through her belly straight to her feminine channel. Even her thighs quivered, her body going into meltdown.

His teeth scraped along her chin, his tongue swirling over the small dip there and traveling down to her throat. He took his time, even though she was melting right there on the floor. His mouth moved over her throat, those wicked teeth scraping gently, sending a sinful lash of spiraling heat sliding from belly to thigh.

She could barely breathe, waiting. Knowing. In the grip of a desire far too strong to ever withstand. He lowered his mouth and took her breast with the same slow heat he'd taken her mouth. His warm breath came first, so that she felt him all the way through her breast and deep under her skin. Her breath just stopped as she strained toward him. His tongue flicked her nipple and she whimpered. Then his mouth drew her deep, suckled, and she cried out, throwing her head back, her arms cradling his head to her, holding him close. Her fingers curled into fists, bunching his hair while her toes curled in a matching reflex.

Desire punched low and fierce, as he captured her other nipple and began to roll and tug to the rhythm of his mouth. Another cry escaped as white lightning ripped through her body, straight from her breasts, through her abdomen to her very core and even lower still, spreading down her thighs until electric sparks crackled around her.

Blood roared in her ears, pounded in her heart and through her veins as he drew the nipple tight against the roof of his mouth and stroked and caressed. She needed him in a way she'd never needed anyone in her life. He was like the brightest star, the moonlight spilling silver across a new snow. He made an ugly world beautiful and decent and made her remember she was a woman.

His mouth was like black velvet, dark and intoxicating, his hands shaping her breasts while his teeth and tongue built the fire in her hotter. When he lifted his head she could see ravenous hunger, yet with those same unhurried movements, his clever fingers skimmed her bare belly. He caught her rib cage between his palms and bent his head to trace a trail of fire over each rib and down to her belly button, where his tongue swirled until she clutched his hair to keep herself upright.

His eyes met hers and his hands dropped to the belt at her hip, pulling the slider apart and dropping weapons and holster onto the floor. She felt the brush of his fingers against her lower belly as he tugged on the leather ties and unfastened the opening. She was tempted to just get rid of her clothes herself, her body on fire with need, but there was a warning in his hot eyes, a look of possession that she found just a little thrilling-okay, maybe a lot. He enjoyed unwrapping her and she wanted to give him that joy. She found herself feeling unexpectedly sexy as he tugged her trousers down her legs and one hand at her hip urged her to step forward out of them.

She held her breath. She was totally naked, every line and curve exposed to his hungry gaze. He just stood there, hands on the curve of her hips, his gaze moving over her, absolutely, wholly focused on her in that way he had, as if he saw nothing else, was aware of nothing else. Only Ivory. She put her hand on his chest, right over his heart, and felt it beating hard. Stark desire radiated from him-for her.

She'd never had a man look at her like that. Certainly Draven had wanted her, but not with love carved into every line of his face. Not with his body shuddering and his heart hammering. He had never looked at her with such a fever of need, with his mind open to hers and his heart given fully to her. No one had ever made her feel as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world, wholly desired, completely loved-until now.

«Ivory.» Her name came out strangled in his throat. A soft symphony that brushed her skin just as effectively as his hands.

He brought her to him again, taking her mouth, this time in a fever of need, scorching her with his searing heat as he pulled her closer, so that his heavy erection pushed against her soft belly right through the material of his trousers. She heard her own strangled moan as his mouth fastened on hers, this time without that slow burn. This time wild and so hot it scorched her. He had driven her out of her mind so that need was the only thing she knew, and she melted into him, nearly blind with hunger for his touch.

His tongue tangled with hers as his hands came back to her sensitive breasts, fingers tugging and rolling her nipples until she was panting, gasping, little whimpers escaping. His skin felt hot beneath his shirt, as her nails dug deep into his shoulders. A shudder went through his body. His mouth was addictive, that dark, rich taste of sin and sex she found intoxicating. His body was hard and powerful, moving against hers, controlled, aggressive now, inflaming her more. She could feel each defined muscle rippling beneath his skin, his body tense with need as his kisses sent electrical sparks sizzling through her veins directly to her feminine channel so she was damp and needy, and moaning into his mouth.

She couldn't stop touching him, his hair, his neck, his throat, sliding her hands over his arms and the muscles there, dragging husky male groans, throaty and raw with passion for him. The sound inflamed her more until she thought she was burning up, her body moving almost compulsively against his.