Lightning Game (GhostWalkers #17) -Christine Feehan Page 0,147

He wasn’t hurting her. She was so small. “You tell me if we have to stop.” It would kill him, but he would.

He waited until those silvery-blue eyes jumped to his and then, holding her gaze captive, he slowly began to invade her scorching-hot sheath. He knew she would be hot, she was lightning, but this … An inferno of silken muscles clamped around his cock like the tightest fist, taking his breath. The friction of that steady invasion was threatening to cause him to lose what little control he had left. Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing.

“Do you have any idea how you’re making me feel? What you’re doing to me?” He dropped one hand to her thigh to rub soothing caresses, trying to steady her. Even to his own ears he sounded a little hoarse. He didn’t know who needed soothing—Jonquille or him. He had to clench his teeth and breathe to keep from letting his body take control and plunge deep and hard the way it so desperately needed to. The fire. The heat. The scorching-hot silken fist surrounding him. It was all a perfect sensation. He shared that feeling with her.

“You gave me this, my little Lightning Bug. You did this for me. You’re always giving to me when I’m trying to give to you.”

He wanted to distract her by showing her what she was doing to him. She was tight and the sensation was amazing, beyond comprehension for him, but it was uncomfortable for her. Burning. Stretching. He felt her discomfort just as she felt his near euphoria.

He continued to move slowly, boring inch by inch of his thick shaft into her, watching her blue eyes and those rings of silver deepen. She panted, little ragged gasps that had her breasts jolting and swaying, adding to the pleasure coursing through him. He couldn’t help but love the sight of her body stretched around his. He was right there. She needed to stop him now or he was going to take her all the way.

“You ready for this?”

Her gaze clung to his, those large eyes a little dazed but dark blue with desire. Her skin was flushed, nipples hard little pebbles. “More. All of you.”

Rubin didn’t wait. He drew his hips back, was rewarded with a gasp and a shake of her head. He plunged deep, driving through her thin barrier and burying his body fully in hers. Her core temperature seemed to grow even hotter. White-hot friction sizzled through his body. Sent electrical currents raging. Their combined thunderstorm threatened to burn out of control.

He tried to stay gentle, but Jonquille caught the rhythm and made her own demands, moving into him, crying out with a sobbing breath for more. He plunged deep, dragging his heavy cock over her sensitive bundle of nerves over and over. Her velvet-soft muscles squeezed and stroked his cock mercilessly with what felt like a thousand tongues of scalding heat, giving him such exquisite pleasure he wasn’t certain he would survive.

Jonquille moaned his name. Chanted it. Her nails dug into his shoulder. Slid down his back. Her hips rose to meet his eagerly. Rubin pulled her body even closer to him, sliding her legs easily over his arms, giving him a different angle. He never took his gaze from hers. Or his mind from hers. He wanted to know if there was one single sign of discomfort.

Her sheath was hot—scorching hot—and growing hotter with every fiery plunge he took. He set up a hard, fast, very deep rhythm. She felt like a sweet tunnel of pure silken lightning, that white-hot fist gripping him in a fierce, possessive clasp. He just continued to burn hotter and hotter. Or she did. Or they did. His balls tightened. Power coiled hot and bright.

“Keep looking at me, Jonquille. Let go with me.” She was close as well. He felt her.

Jonquille didn’t—couldn’t—look away. Everything Rubin did to her sent pleasure spiraling through every nerve ending. It was as if he was so connected to her that he could tune to the electrical charges in her body and set them on fire. Her mind was nothing but sheer chaos. Rubin’s cock pistoned into her over and over, and each time sent lightning zigzagging through her body from core to breasts and back. The electrical storm between them was so fierce and connective that even without the lead strokes coming from the clouds, little sparks like fireflies danced around her outer skin and leapt from his body