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She had felt it. He felt it. He knew there were silken-wrapped chains in his soul now, and they led back to her. The burn was now a flame though. Natches smiled down at her, wild, wicked hunger raging inside him.
He’d been born as wild as the wind, and like the wind, he had torn through his own life, whipping around it without direction, shearing his own dreams as he moved, until he met Chaya.
And she had been born to tame that wind inside him. Not the man, she made the man wild, made him hungry. But the rage, the burning fury that had driven him before that day in a dry, hot desert, was now tamed, held in the hands of one tender woman.
“Are you going to just stare at me all morning?” She stretched beneath his gaze, her eyes flickering to where he stroked his cock, anticipating, holding back that final moment when he would have to let her go.
“Would you let me?” He smiled, using one finger to trace a line from between her breasts to the silken, soft mound between her thighs.
“If that was what you wanted to do. ” She lifted her hands and let her fingers trail along the path he had made. “I didn’t take you for a watcher, Natches. Though I’m sure we could adapt if that’s your kink. ”
If that was his kink? He almost laughed; he did smile. God, he loved her. Smart mouth and all.
“What if it is my kink?” He lifted his brows curiously. Not that it was, but he could play with her. That was the joy with Chaya, she enjoyed playing. Even patched and healing in that hospital in Iraq, she had enjoyed playing with him.
“Isn’t it too bad you broke my vibrator then?” She let her fingers whisper over her mound before returning, stroking along the top of the glistening slit.
Hell, he’d come in his own hand at this rate.
“You would have let me watch?” He hadn’t anticipated that.
“Oh, I would have,” she whispered, letting her finger dip into the folds, her hips arching as he watched. “I would have shown you how I survived five years without you. I would have let you watch, and let you hear me crying because I couldn’t reach the same peak you could bring me to. Would you like to see that?”
See her cry? God no.
“I’d finish you, baby,” he promised her. “I’ll let you show me how you do it, then I’d show you how it’s done. ” His wicked smile drew a light vein of laughter from her, a twinkle of the same wicked hunger to her eyes.
“Then show me how it’s done. ” Her fingers lifted from her flesh, dewy with her juices and he couldn’t help himself. He snagged her wrist and brought her fingers to his lips.
Her taste exploded against his tongue. Sweet and earthy. Nothing tasted as good as Chaya’s passion. He covered the tips of her tasty fingers, licked them clean, and watched her eyes darken as he caressed the sensitive tips with his tongue.
“I’ll show you exactly how it should be done,” he murmured. “You should be savored. ”
He stretched out between her thighs, pressed them wide, and blew a breath across the dampened flesh, his gaze lifting to her as a tremor shook her body. “Savored in the most delicious ways. With a kiss. ” He covered her hard little clit in a heated kiss, nudged it with his tongue, and felt it throb in anticipation.
“Just a kiss?” Her voice was hoarse with pleasure now.
“Hmm. A kiss wasn’t enough?” He kissed the silken folds, drew the taste of her juices onto his tongue, and hummed in appreciation.
“Not enough. ” Her hands were in his hair now as she tried to press him closer.
“A taste?” He dipped his tongue inside those luscious folds, licked softly, slowly, felt the soft flutter at the entrance of her core and the echo of the clenching need building in the muscles there.
“Taste isn’t enough. ” She writhed beneath him, her hips arching, pressing her pussy closer to his mouth as he kissed and licked and listened to her cries of pleasure building in his head.
Making love. He’d never made love before Chaya, but that was what he was doing now. Making love to her. Loving her with everything inside his soul.
“Kissing or tasting?” His own voice was ragged now. “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?”
He lifted his head, smiling back at her as she watched him, lashes lowered sensually, a sheen of perspiration on her face now.
And those sweet, lush breasts. They were swollen, her nipples hard, tight, and flushed with need. He couldn’t help but lift one hand, slide it over her stomach, and cup one of those sweet mounds as he went back to kissing, tasting. And licking. He licked around her clit. He laid little kisses on it, pursing his lips and drawing it inside the heat of his mouth until she unraveled beneath him, arched and cried his name in release.
Before the tremors finished sweeping through her, he jerked to his knees, lifted her legs until they lay against his chest, and began working his cock inside her.
Fuck. She was tight. So hot he had to clench his teeth, tried valiantly to think about car motors, anything, everything but the destructive, velvet grip encasing his cock.
And nothing worked. Nothing filled his mind but the scent and the feel of her. Her voice crying out his name, her hands gripping his wrists as he held on to her hips. Until he was buried fully inside her, balls deep in the sweetest, slickest haven a man’s soul could ever find.
