Dark Carousel (Dark #30) - Christine Feehan Page 0,34

voice he used only pushed her need higher. Added an edge to the terrible hunger consuming her.

“Say my name,” he ordered. His voice whispered over her skin, causing goose bumps to rise. “Know who your lifemate is.”

She had no idea what a lifemate was, but she wanted to be that for him. She wanted to be anything he wanted. Her nipples were twin tight peaks, her breasts aching and swollen with need. Deep inside tension coiled tighter and tighter.

“I’m your man. Say it, Charlotte Vintage. Say you belong to me and that I belong to you.” His rough voice had dropped an octave until it was almost harsh, yet it still carried that sexy, velvet sound that triggered something deep inside her—a need, a hunger—to be with him. To do anything for him. To be whatever he needed.

She would have said anything to get him inside her, so claiming him wasn’t in the least difficult. She wanted that. Wanted him to be hers. “Please hurry, Tariq. I belong to Tariq Asenguard, and he definitely belongs to me.” He did belong to her. She felt the truth of that with every ragged breath she took.

He took her hard. Brutally. One desperate stroke filling her, pushing ruthlessly through tight, scorching-hot muscles, tearing through the thin barrier to fill her with his thick, hard cock. Filling her completely. Stretching her. Burning. A blazing hot stroke of pure erotic pain and pleasure.

She heard herself scream and it was a mixture of shock, pain, and so much pleasure she hadn’t known a woman could feel such a thing. Every nerve ending sizzled with pure fire. And then he was planted in her. Deep. Pulsing. She could feel his heartbeat through his cock, on the walls of her vagina as he waited, taking a breath, giving her time to adjust.

She couldn’t look away from his face, those lines etched deep, the planes and angles carved into a handsome, purely masculine face. His hair was messy, wild even, long and glossy dark. His eyes blazed down into hers and she saw an absolute predator staring down at her. Focused. Brutal. Dominant. Possessive. It should have frightened her, but there was something else in his eyes, something that made her feel absolutely safe with him.

He’d branded her as his, and she knew he meant it. She could see that in his eyes. She felt it in his touch. So possessive. She’d never done anything like this in her life. Never. But she knew she belonged to him, and she needed him desperately to move. If he didn’t move, she was going to go up in flames like a phoenix. Turn to ashes. Nothing left.

Tariq, watching her face, withdrew and slammed deep, all the while holding her gaze captive with his, judging her reaction to his hard, brutal stroke, and then held still again to give her body time to adjust to his invasion.

“More.” She whispered it to him. “Please, Tariq. More.” Even as she pleaded with him, she knew that he would take her without mercy, and God help her, that was what she wanted—even needed—from him.

He gave her more and then some. Pounding into her. Taking her thoroughly. His hands hard on her hips, holding her in place while he surged into her, again and again, jolting her body with each brutal thrust. Her breasts rocked in invitation with every hard jackhammer surge. Lightning seemed to lash through her veins. The tension inside her coiled tighter and tighter. She needed . . . something.

“Tariq.” She said his name. Low. Calling out to him when she didn’t know what to do to ease the terrible burn that built and built. It was building so high fear skittered down her spine.

“I have you, sielamet,” he assured, his eyes scorching a brand through her.

She felt that brand with his every finger digging into her hips. With every stroke, he burned his name into her, deep inside her body, until she felt owned by him. Taken by him. Thoroughly his.

“Eyes to mine, Charlotte,” he commanded, his voice sexily low and gravelly, the voice that turned her inside out. “Let me see into your soul.”

She loved the way he said that. As if he meant every word. More, when she looked into his eyes, she felt anchored. Safe. Her world narrowed until there was only him. She breathed him in with every breath she took. He was inside her body, filling and stretching her until the burn was so scorching hot she