His lips moved down her neck, tiny stinging kisses that left fire dancing over her nerve endings. His thumb and finger caught her nipple, rolling and tugging until her head thrashed back and forth over the pillow and she sobbed out his name. She hadn’t known she could feel this way, hadn’t known that a small burst of pain could bring heat flaring and his tongue could feel like velvet over smarting hypersensitive skin.
He kissed his way down to her br**sts, stopping there to feast, wanting her in a frenzy of desire, needing her compliance, afraid that if she fought him, he’d go wild. His hand moved lower, savoring the shape and texture of her, cupping her hot, damp mound, feeling satisfaction as her h*ps bucked and another soft sob escaped. He slid a finger into the deep recesses, searching for honey and spice and a way to make her his for eternity.
“Spread your legs for me, Mari.” His voice was harsh, hands rough on her thighs, forcing her obedience before she could give it to him, positioning her so he could kiss his way down her belly button, pausing to nibble the underside of her br**sts, trace each rib, and lavish attention on her abdomen with hot licks as if she were an ice cream cone.
“Ken.” Desperate, she fisted her hands in his hair, trying to drag him over her, to blanket her.
He caught her wrists and jerked them down. “Behave,” he ordered. “We do this my way. I warned you, it has to be my way.” Because watching her lose control, watching the lust build into mindless need, fed his violent instincts and increased his pleasure. The more she came apart for him, the better it was for him.
“I can’t take it. You’re too slow.”
“Stay still,” he repeated, his voice roughening. His tongue followed his finger in a long, slow sweep searching for the nectar he was craving.
She nearly came off the cot, her sobs real, her h*ps thrashing wildly. He smacked the side of her bottom in warning and watched the answering flare of arousal in her eyes. Ken clamped one arm down tight across her hips, pinning her down. His need raged white-hot now, coursing through his body with the force of a tidal wave, a storm of fire so out of control it was crowning. He didn’t just need her body; he wanted her soul. He wanted her so tied to him she would do anything he asked, anything he demanded of her.
Mari raised her head to look at him, the dark sensuality on his face, the intensity of his desire that shuddered through his body. His eyes were pure silver, twin slashes of light that focused solely on her. His hands were hard and terribly strong. His scars traveled down his belly right over his enormous cock. The knife cuts had been made with surgical precision, each slice designed to cause the maximum amount of pain without killing him. His balls were cut, as were his belly and h*ps and down across his thighs, until the scars disappeared into the legs of his jeans.
She would have thought no one could recover from such an ordeal, but he was hard and thick and long enough to be intimidating—and she wanted to touch and taste and soothe, make it all better for him. Mostly she wanted to drive him past all sanity, the way he was driving her. She licked her lips to moisten them, parting them as she stared at the long, daunting length of him. She was coming apart, her body coiling tighter and tighter until she was afraid she would be screaming, throwing herself at him, begging for release.
He whispered something guttural and faintly obscene, his voice so rough she found it sexy. His silver eyes branded his name into her flesh and bone as he clamped down on her thighs and lowered his head, his mouth on her most intimate lips, his tongue thrusting deep into her. Everything around her seemed to explode. She shattered, utterly and completely shattered, breaking into a million pieces, her mind fragmenting until there was no conscious thought, only wave after wave of sensation, tidal waves swamping her, carrying her far out to sea, where she had no anchor and no way back.
She fought to get away, using her strength, terrified of losing herself for all time, afraid if he didn’t stop she might die from the crashing pleasure. Her vision narrowed, and she saw dark streaks covered in blue-hot stars as her br**sts tightened and her womb spasmed and every muscle in her body clenched and coiled, winding tighter and tighter. He held her still, as no one else could have, his enhanced strength impossible to fight while he drove his tongue relentlessly into her feminine channel, spearing deep, over and over. She couldn’t stand it. He had to stop. He had to.
The tongue went from stabbing to fluttering; teeth found her most sensitive spot and began a slow, torturous assault. His finger added to the insanity, pushing deep and pulling out to spread hot liquid over her most intimate parts. His mouth went to her sensitive bud, tongue flicking back and forth ruthlessly, throwing her into a wild, never-ending orgasm. The more sensitive she grew, the more he persisted, holding her down while he sucked at her, before once more taking her bud between his teeth and stroking with his tongue. She lost her ability to breathe, thrashing back and forth wildly in an effort to get away from his mouth.
Her breath came out in ragged sobs. “I can’t take any more. No more.” The sensations were building continually. She’d lost count of how many times she’d come apart, each orgasm stronger than the last, until she felt it through her stomach and up into her br**sts, until every part of her was stimulated beyond her imagination.
“Yes, more. You’ll come for me, Mari, over and over.” His voice was guttural as he sucked ravenously at her, throwing her into another cl**ax.
It was too much; she had never had anyone give her so much, demand so much, take so much. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, desperate to hold on when the world was gone. Their combined scents were potent and heady, so sexy she couldn’t think. His hands were everywhere, making her body his, taking possession of each separate part of her.
When she stiffened in protest—afraid—his mouth devoured her, eating her like the candy he’d called her earlier, devouring everything until she was certain there was nothing left of Mari. He lifted his head to look at her, his face pure carnal sensuality.
“You belong to me,” he whispered roughly. Body and soul. Whatever he wanted or needed, she was going to be the one to supply it. The dark violence in him could be harnessed and used for much more pleasurable purposes, the demons caged by one woman—Mari. She made his c**k ache and his balls burn and his control slip away, until all he could think about was having her. He was a man who could ride a woman all night and never feel completely sated, yet just looking at her sprawled out beneath him at the mercy of his body, hearing her pleas and sobs for him to take her, he knew everything was different with her. His life would always be different.
She clutched him tightly, her body writhing beneath his tongue and teeth, her breath coming in sobs as she pleaded with him to possess her. Her breathless cries added to the intensity of his pleasure. The nails biting deep into his skin, the scratches on his back he knew she didn’t realize she was putting there, all added to the building fire.
Retaining his hold on her hips, Ken slid off the bed, pulling her bottom to the edge to lift her legs over his shoulders. Fingers digging into her bottom, he pressed against her damp heat. Although she was slick and wet, and hungry for him, it seemed an impossible task to stretch her tight channel enough to accommodate his size.
And then he moved, ramming into her hard and deep, driving through her tight muscles to bury himself balls deep. A soft scream escaped from her throat, hastily muffled by the back of her hand. She stared up at him, eyes wide with shock and glazed over with feverish desire. The hard ridges on his c**k rasped over her velvet-soft inner muscles, adding to the pleasure-pain of his deep penetration. He needed this, needed her and her acceptance of his control of her. She didn’t wince away from his appearance, and every hard, rough stroke took her pleasure higher. He made absolutely certain of that.
He controlled the rhythm, hard and fast, and then slow and deep, dragging her h*ps into him to double the impact, or holding her still so she could only accept his deep invasion. She was tight, tighter than he expected, and fiery hot, engulfing him in a velvet inferno. He rode her hard, pounding roughly to stimulate his cock—the glorious erotic bite of pleasure and pain as he stretched and thickened, as he forced her to take every inch of him, stretching her impossibly.
She went wild beneath him, ripping at his arms with her nails, slashing his chest, long, deep scratches as he drove her higher and higher, compelling her into a level of sexuality she’d never imagined. He held her thighs apart, yanking her legs higher, wider, refusing to give an inch, refusing to allow her to catch her breath. The pleasure was mushrooming out of control, turning into a whirling tornado spinning through both of them, taking them away from all reality.
He caught her hands, slammed both to the cot on either side of her head, ramming into her body in a frenzy of raging need, driving his c**k so deep he thought he might lock them together forever. The lines in his face were etched deeper, his scars standing out starkly against his skin as her muscles gripped tighter and tighter, adding more and more friction and heat. Sweat beaded on his body, darkened his hair, but he kept thrusting, over and over, while his balls grew hard and his c**k screamed for mercy.
He felt the explosion tear through her body, a dark tidal wave that rose and rose, refusing to be stopped. She sobbed, as he drove into her, the hot wash of her cream sending him over the edge, his own ejaculation ripping through him so forcefully his body shook. He was elated, ecstatic, more alive than he’d ever been. Maybe it was because he thought he’d lost his ability since the torture in the Congo, but he suspected the pleasure was so intense because he finally was with the right woman. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he collapsed over her.
“Son of a bitch, Mari, you nearly killed me.”
Her arm slid around his neck, her fingers tunneling in his thick hair. “I can’t think. And I’ll never walk again.”
She touched her tongue to her lips. Her br**sts ached, her thighs; she throbbed between her legs. There was a burning sensation as if he’d stretched her and left her with skid marks. “I think I have road rash.” Her heart was never going to beat normally, and no one—no one—was ever going to satisfy her again.
Ken lifted his head to look at her. Her bone structure was so delicate, yet there was steel in her. She’d been afraid, but she’d put herself in his hands. Her fingertips skimmed over his face, over the scars, traced them down his neck to his chest. She leaned forward to press kisses where his skin was exposed. His heart turned over. She’d seen the monster and it hadn’t frightened her. He couldn’t help the possessive feeling rising to choke him. She wasn’t going back and he wasn’t doing the right thing. He could no more give her up now than he could shoot his brother.
“I’ll clean us both up in a minute, honey. Just give me a minute.” He had never felt like that, such an explosive orgasm, so complete and so unexpected when his body was so damaged. He knew the pressure it took against his skin to feel sensation, and her tight channel had given him more than he’d ever thought possible. It shook him that he could need this woman so much.