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Heart of Obsidian (Psy-Changeling 12) - Page 70


His other hand he curled gently around her throat.

“Are you ready?” he asked, though he could feel her molten stickiness against his thigh.

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

“I—how?”

“Use your own fingers.”

Color pulsed under her skin.

“No taboos, no rules here,” he said, wanting her with him through every step of this erotic exploration. “This is our place, our time.” Finally it was their time.

Sahara wet her lips, eyes of midnight blue drenched in passion. “Our bed.”

Squeezing the base of his penis with a telekinetic ring, he reined in the driving urge to thrust inside her. “And my Sahara.” Always his.

Sahara shivered and moved her hand down the concave slope of her stomach to splay her fingers over her navel. When she hesitated, he kissed her throat again. “No taboos.”

Her hand ventured lower, the tips of her fingers disappearing under the creamy lace of her panties.

Breath turning shallow at the visual stimuli that hit every single one of his pleasure centers, he watched her hand move under the lace as she stroked herself. His abdomen was rigid, his chest tight, the pleasure almost pain by the time she withdrew her fingers, the digits slick and shiny.

“Make me yours, Kaleb.”

The throaty request, falling from lips plump and wet, snapped the ring of black ice. Slipping his hand under her thigh after repositioning his own, he spread her further and, tearing away her panties with a negligible use of his Tk, pushed inside her. She was tight. He was slow, deliberate. Moaning, Sahara dug her nails into his nape, her br**sts flushed, her ni**les lush beads he wanted to roll against his tongue.

Since he couldn’t indulge in the latter, he covered one of her br**sts with a telekinetic hand, stroking down to squeeze her nipple. She clenched around him, her wetness molten. It took Kaleb’s brain a microsecond to make the connection. Giving her neglected breast the same treatment, he rubbed at her clitoris with a phantom finger, while never faltering in the slow, steady rhythm of sexual intercourse that had his testicles drawn up tight against his body, the pain exquisite.

Sensing her body begin to tighten, he parted her labia using telekinesis and squeezed her clitoris.

“Kaleb!” Sahara convulsed around his erection, her entire body shaking with the strength of her orgasm.

Kaleb had intended to continue the slow pace that was an exercise in erotic control, but his brain short-circuited at the possessive clenching of Sahara’s intimate muscles. Pushing her onto her front, her face turned sideways on the pillow, he fisted one hand tightly in her hair and slammed into her in a brutally deep and fast rhythm, her body tight and slick and of the woman who was and had always been his. It felt like madness, creeping red on the horizon.

Hurting her, the part of him that lived in the void screamed, I’m hurting her!

His muscles locked, his mind trying to force his body to pull out of her and failing. He didn’t want to break the rawness of the connection, her skin as sweat-slick as his own, her body a hot, silken fist.

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“I’m hurting you,” he managed to ground out.

“No, you’re not!” Punching her fist on the pillow, Sahara undulated her lower body toward him.

Move!

The feminine demand was the only thing he needed to hear. Pounding into her, he saw her fingers clench tight on the sheets, her lips part on a breathless cry, and then she was coming around him once more, the pulses harder, more viciously possessive. Caught in the vise of her pleasure, his back arched as white lightning tore through his spine.

The bed slammed back to the ground.

Hard.

So did every other item in the room.

* * *

SAHARA was attempting to gasp in air when a fragment of memory untangled itself from the vault.

“Did you steal this?”

“No. I earned it.”

Her bracelet, she’d been talking of her bracelet with the man whose muscled body covered her back, both of them breathing as if they’d run a marathon. Never, she thought, had she asked him what he’d done to earn it; that wasn’t a choice she had any intention of altering. Whatever price Kaleb had paid for the platinum that encircled her wrist, he had done so for her, and she would honor it.

His chest sliding against her back, Kaleb pushed up a fraction. Can you breathe?

No, but it has nothing to do with your weight. Come back. Fingers flexing as he obeyed, she released a shuddering exhale and tried to shape words with her mouth. It took her at least two minutes. “I want to do that again.”

“I’m not sure our bodies can take it.”

The icy tone made her toes curl—she knew full well he only went that cold with her when he was fighting to leash himself. Then he kissed her neck and she knew he’d lost the fight. To her shock, they did manage to have sex again, her on her front, Kaleb’s chest rubbing over her back, though he used his Tk to lessen the pressure of his weight. This time, it was slow and deep from start to finish.

“It feels like a full-body kiss,” she whispered as her inner muscles began to clench in a quieter but no less potent pleasure.

Lips at her throat, Kaleb rocked her through the orgasm, then filled her in a burst of liquid heat.

They were both drenched in sweat and sticky with sex, but Sahara had no intention of moving. In fact, she wasn’t certain her bones hadn’t melted. So it was as well her lover was a cardinal Tk who could ’port them into the shower.

* * *

SHOWERED and dressed in fresh jeans and a soft pink cardigan from the closet she had in her original room, Sahara went hunting in the kitchen while Kaleb dressed in preparation for a comm meeting. The charcoal gray suit teamed with a steel blue shirt and charcoal tie was one of her favorites. There was something incredibly sexy about a man so lethal that civilized dress only served to highlight the danger, not lessen it.

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