Christine Feehan: Air Bound

He didn’t allow her to catch her breath, he breathed for her, his lungs to hers, sharing their breath, exchanging it. He transferred his attention to her other breast, but already, the sweet peach taste in her mouth had made him hungry for her feminine essence, all that hot honey he knew was spilling out of her in welcome for him.

Maxim kissed his way down her throat to her breasts, pausing to suckle and nip with his teeth, hard, stinging nips his tongue laved and soothed. He continued his travels along the underside of her breasts and along the bruises on her ribs, now mostly healed.

She felt so small, giving him a heady feeling of power. Every kiss, every nip, his hands stroking and caressing left her panting, gasping, begging for more. She was vocal, letting him know by every gasping, ragged breath, every thrash and turn of her head, her bucking hips and writhing body, that she belonged solely to him—that she enjoyed everything he was doing to her.

His hands went to her thighs and she shivered as he parted her legs and blew into all that heat. He loved the fire in her. It was all his. All for him.

This is mine. For me. He stated the fact, for the first time believing it.

All yours, she agreed. I gave myself to you almost the first day I met you.

I’m giving myself wholly to you, Airiana. As messed up and as far gone as I am, I’m yours and always will be. He meant his declaration from the bottom of his shredded soul.

He bent his head to her as he lifted her hips. His mouth settled over her and she screamed, the woven air around the gazebo containing the sound, keeping her cries of pleasure for his ears only.

He took his time devouring her, wanting every drop of her honey, using his tongue to draw it out, suckling strongly, teasing her taut little bud until she was writhing and pleading with him, until his own body made its savage demands.

He moved up and over her swiftly, not waiting for her body to adjust to his size, but surging into her with one, long brutal stroke, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go so that he was surrounded by her. Her feminine sheath gripped him tightly, so tight he felt the scorching hot burn he’d been waiting for.

She was a vise surrounding him with living, moving silk, the walls of her channel hotter than hell as they grasped at him. It took her body a moment to accommodate his size, and just as she was relaxing into him, he set a ferocious pace. He thrust into her over and over, gripping her hips, yanking her legs over his shoulders so he could get deeper, so he could feel that moment when they were one. When her soul connected to his.

It was beautiful. Perfect. He was never going to stop. He pounded into her. Her soft moans and breathless pleas began to rise into a crescendo. Still, he didn’t stop. Her ragged breath and gasping cries became a counterpoint to each hard thrust.

Sweat beaded on his body. There was a fine sheen on hers. The night air wrapped them up in warmth. The scent of her candles mingled with the scent of their lovemaking, a heady aphrodisiac.

Now, Airiana, come apart for me. He made it a command. I want everything you are. I’m giving you everything I am.

Her muscles tightened around his, clamped down so hard that, for a moment, the sensation was close to pain, but then her body gripped and milked, a hard fist of silk surrounding him, drawing his seed into her. He felt the eruption like a hot jet of fuel, spurt after spurt filling her, while around him her body rippled with life, and that cleansing fire stormed through both of them.

He allowed himself to rest on her for a moment before wrapping her tightly in his arms and rolling over so he wouldn’t crush her. He couldn’t bring himself to separate from her and she lay on him, her cheek on his chest, over his heart.

“I love you, Maxim. I do. Thank you. I needed . . . you.”

He stroked her hair. Maybe he could never give her the words out loud that she needed to hear, but he could say them with his body, whisper them intimately into her mind. He would always belong to this woman. He would always treasure her and care for her. His fingers tangled in all that silk.

“You know we’re not finished out here, not by a long shot.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I brought some wonderful peppermint oil. It’s quite edible, and when one puts it on interesting places . . . well . . .” She trailed off, laughing.

He loved her laugh nearly as much as he loved her.