Lightning Game (GhostWalkers #17) -Christine Feehan Page 0,146

focused utterly and completely on her, so intense it was shocking.

He dipped his head slowly, that wealth of dark hair spilling around his forehead. It should have made him look feminine, just like his long lashes, but there was nothing feminine about him. He had too strong of a jaw, too intensely masculine.

Rubin’s tongue did a slow foray up the inside of her right thigh, stopping just beside her pulsing clit. She wasn’t certain she was going to survive. She wouldn’t have been able to stay still if he weren’t holding her legs. The anticipation was shocking. He did the same on the left side. Her entire body jerked. She felt his warm breath. Every nerve ending in her body was acutely aware of him, sizzled with fire, with electrical currents, running from her deepest core to her breasts, to her brain. Throughout her bloodstream. She’d never been so aware of herself as female and so aware of a man as utterly male.

His tongue suddenly, without warning, swiped through her hot, needy folds. A streak of lightning stunned her, racing straight up her body in a shimmering bolt of white-hot fire to flash behind her eyes, nearly blinding her with alarming, unexpected and quite shocking pleasure. His hands gripped her thighs. She’d forgotten his enormous strength and he was wielding it, yet even with his strength, his thumb moved back and forth against her skin in a caress meant to soothe her.

You have that taste I crave, Lightning. Coral honeysuckle and wild daffodils. All Jonquille. My beautiful woman.

His tongue lapped at her. Two leisurely strokes and then he began to lap as if he was a wolf in the wild, greedily devouring the cream spilling from her.

Just like that the air in her lungs was gone, leaving her gasping. Her mind stopped all coherent thought. There was only room for feeling. Her body needed. Desperately needed. It wasn’t simply a want, a desire, it was a need growing beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Electricity surged through her bloodstream, threatening to burn so hot she was afraid she would burn both of them from the inside out. Waves of sensation poured over her. Into her. Swamped her until she cried out, trying to anchor herself by clutching at his shoulders and then his hair.

That only seemed to drive him on. He used his tongue to penetrate her, stabbing deep and then pulling back, going shallow, thrusting rough and then gentle. Every muscle in her body tightened in response. Every nerve ending caught fire. The lightning strikes increased in her bloodstream, driving straight to her deepest core, one after another, until she was breathless. Raw. Fear ripped through her, as tension gathered in her center, coiling tighter and tighter.

Rubin? She dug her nails into his shoulders.

I’ve got you. I’ll always have you. Relax, Lightning Bug. Trust me.

She did trust him. She made the effort to let pleasure take her, to turn her body over to him, but his mouth was aggressive, his tongue driving into her, then flattening to flick her sensitive button. She heard herself cry out, a cross between a sob and a moan. A desperate cry of need, and then his mouth was over her clit, suckling. Hot, bright light burst behind her eyes as the pleasure surged over her, radiating outward and upward in waves.

Rubin knelt up between her thighs, looking at that beauty laid out in his bed. His woman, one he loved. One he felt passion for. One he thought he’d never have. He cupped her small bottom in his hands and dragged her all the way to him, keeping her legs on either side of his body. She was small and delicate looking, but Jonquille was anything but fragile. Still, she was afraid, and he didn’t want to lose her now.

His cock was merciless, so thick and hard he feared he would lose control if he waited too much longer. With the base of his throbbing, painful shaft in one tight fist, he lodged the broad, weeping crown in her slick, hot entrance. Just that contact took his breath. She was scorching. Her body fighting to draw him deep. It was difficult to think with his blood roaring like thunder in his ears. He had to find a way to stay in control when he was skating the very edge, a shock when he was always in control.

“Look at me, Jonquille. Eyes on mine.” He had to see her. Make certain she was all right.