Deadly Game

Page 28

Retaining his hold on her hips, Ken slid off the bed, pulling her bottom to the edge to lift her legs over his shoulders. Fingers digging into her bottom, he pressed against her damp heat. Although she was slick and wet, and hungry for him, it seemed an impossible task to stretch her tight channel enough to accommodate his size.
And then he moved, ramming into her hard and deep, driving through her tight muscles to bury himself balls deep. A soft scream escaped from her throat, hastily muffled by the back of her hand. She stared up at him, eyes wide with shock and glazed over with feverish desire. The hard ridges on his c**k rasped over her velvet-soft inner muscles, adding to the pleasure-pain of his deep penetration. He needed this, needed her and her acceptance of his control of her. She didn’t wince away from his appearance, and every hard, rough stroke took her pleasure higher. He made absolutely certain of that.
He controlled the rhythm, hard and fast, and then slow and deep, dragging her h*ps into him to double the impact, or holding her still so she could only accept his deep invasion. She was tight, tighter than he expected, and fiery hot, engulfing him in a velvet inferno. He rode her hard, pounding roughly to stimulate his cock—the glorious erotic bite of pleasure and pain as he stretched and thickened, as he forced her to take every inch of him, stretching her impossibly.
She went wild beneath him, ripping at his arms with her nails, slashing his chest, long, deep scratches as he drove her higher and higher, compelling her into a level of sexuality she’d never imagined. He held her thighs apart, yanking her legs higher, wider, refusing to give an inch, refusing to allow her to catch her breath. The pleasure was mushrooming out of control, turning into a whirling tornado spinning through both of them, taking them away from all reality.
He caught her hands, slammed both to the cot on either side of her head, ramming into her body in a frenzy of raging need, driving his c**k so deep he thought he might lock them together forever. The lines in his face were etched deeper, his scars standing out starkly against his skin as her muscles gripped tighter and tighter, adding more and more friction and heat. Sweat beaded on his body, darkened his hair, but he kept thrusting, over and over, while his balls grew hard and his c**k screamed for mercy.
He felt the explosion tear through her body, a dark tidal wave that rose and rose, refusing to be stopped. She sobbed, as he drove into her, the hot wash of her cream sending him over the edge, his own ejaculation ripping through him so forcefully his body shook. He was elated, ecstatic, more alive than he’d ever been. Maybe it was because he thought he’d lost his ability since the torture in the Congo, but he suspected the pleasure was so intense because he finally was with the right woman. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he collapsed over her.
“Son of a bitch, Mari, you nearly killed me.”
Her arm slid around his neck, her fingers tunneling in his thick hair. “I can’t think. And I’ll never walk again.”
She touched her tongue to her lips. Her br**sts ached, her thighs; she throbbed between her legs. There was a burning sensation as if he’d stretched her and left her with skid marks. “I think I have road rash.” Her heart was never going to beat normally, and no one—no one—was ever going to satisfy her again.
Ken lifted his head to look at her. Her bone structure was so delicate, yet there was steel in her. She’d been afraid, but she’d put herself in his hands. Her fingertips skimmed over his face, over the scars, traced them down his neck to his chest. She leaned forward to press kisses where his skin was exposed. His heart turned over. She’d seen the monster and it hadn’t frightened her. He couldn’t help the possessive feeling rising to choke him. She wasn’t going back and he wasn’t doing the right thing. He could no more give her up now than he could shoot his brother.
“I’ll clean us both up in a minute, honey. Just give me a minute.” He had never felt like that, such an explosive orgasm, so complete and so unexpected when his body was so damaged. He knew the pressure it took against his skin to feel sensation, and her tight channel had given him more than he’d ever thought possible. It shook him that he could need this woman so much.
It wasn’t that he was totaled—on the contrary, he wanted to take a few minutes’ rest and start over again, a marathon this time—but she looked exhausted and a little freaked out that she’d given him so much of herself. He’d taken her cooperation, giving her little choice in the matter, but she had only fought him when the pleasure was skidding into pain and it had frightened her.
He hadn’t wanted to lie to her, to be something he wasn’t—something he couldn’t be. His body was ruined for anything but a certain kind of stimulation and she had to accept that. Hell. It had taken him months to get around the idea that he couldn’t perform, and then a few more weeks to acknowledge what might get him off.
“Did I hurt you?” His hands framed her face, thumbs sliding over her smooth, soft skin. She was so beautiful he ached.
“I don’t know.” She leaned forward and dragged her lips, feather-light, over his. “It was wild and amazing and somewhat frightening. I didn’t know sex could feel like that.” Her gaze slid away from his. “I’m not a virgin or anything, but I’ve never had an orgasm.” She touched a long scratch on his chest. “I was scared, but I wanted it so much. I didn’t want you to ever stop, not even when I said stop.”
He tipped her chin up. “Did you say stop? Because if you did, I didn’t hear you.”
“Not out loud. No one’s ever done that before.”
He frowned. “Done what?”
Color crept under her skin, flushing her face and her br**sts, drawing his attention to the marks on the creamy flesh. His marks. His fingerprints. The faint teeth marks and numerous strawberries standing out starkly against her pale skin. She had them on the inside of her thighs as well. He touched one—pleased.
Her color deepened, turning an interesting shade of crimson. “Oral sex.”
His eyebrow shot up. She looked innocent and almost shy, so much so that he couldn’t help but bend down to kiss her. “Oral sex? Is that what you thought that was?” He rubbed the scar splitting his lip with the pad of his thumb. “I don’t think so, honey. That was more like gobbling you up. Eating you alive. And just talking about it is making me hard all over again.”
The color spread through her body. “Well, regardless, no one’s ever done that.”
The smile on his face faded. “Never?”
She shook her head.
He scowled at her. “What the hell did this idiot Brett do to prepare you?”
“He didn’t care if my body accepted his or not. He used a lubricant for his own convenience, not mine.”
Ken swore out loud. “Someone needs to tear his heart out.”
A small smile curved her mouth. “Jack likes to shoot people. Maybe we just ought to introduce them.”
Ken slid off the bed, pulling up his jeans before finding a cloth. Dipping it in water, he carefully washed her body, deliberately stroking caresses between her legs. “What other things have you managed to miss?”
“Why? I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“If I don’t know what you’ve missed, I won’t know all the things I get to introduce you to.” He dried her body with careful strokes.
“I’ve never celebrated a birthday or holiday.”
“When do you get presents?”
She laughed. “What kind of presents? Sean gave me a knife once, but he took it back when I was put in the breeding program. I think they were afraid I’d remove certain portions of Brett’s anatomy.”
It bothered him. Okay—it bothered him a lot—that she didn’t have holidays and fireplaces and presents. At the worst home he’d been in, they still celebrated birthdays. “When is your birthday?”
Once again her gaze slid from his, and she shrugged with exaggerated casualness. “I have no idea. Whitney found me in an orphanage somewhere and he didn’t exactly think that date was important, so why would you think he’d celebrate our birthdays?”
Ken’s belly knotted up again, but he kept his voice and face expressionless. He cupped her face and leaned in for another heart-stopping kiss. The woman tasted like honey and exotic spice, so addicting he thought about just kissing her until neither of them knew their own names anymore. “He’s a scientist. Isn’t the age of his guinea pigs important? Let’s break into his files and get the information. I’ll bet he has it.”
She laughed. Really laughed. The sound was very soft, but it made him want to smile. He pulled a chain from around his neck. Made of braided gold, it held a small golden cross. He slipped it over her head, lifting her hair out of the way so that the chain slid along the back of her neck and the medal nestled between her br**sts.
“Your first present, one of many. I’m not very religious, but I always like to keep my options open. It will keep you safe when I’m not right beside you.”
She inhaled sharply and blinked hard several times.
Ken touched her long lashes and found them wet. She suddenly looked sad, shadows replacing the laughter in her eyes. “Presents are supposed to make you happy. I don’t think you’re getting the concept here.”
Mari slid her arms around his neck. “Surprisingly, this has been the best day of my life. Thank you.” She lifted her mouth for his kiss, her fingers gliding over his neck. She struck hard and fast, finding the pressure point with little problem and, using her enhanced strength, digging deep. She could never have done it if she hadn’t caught him completely by surprise, but he succumbed, slipping into a black void, slumping to the bed and then sliding to the floor.
Chapter 11
Mari jumped off the bed, crouching down to check Ken’s pulse. The whisper of warning buzzed in her head like the distant sound of bees. They were here. They’d found her, and if she didn’t act fast, they’d kill Ken, Jack, Logan, and Ryland. Lily would be taken prisoner.
She took a deep breath and opened her mind to the team leader. Pull back. There are civilians and innocents here. This team was protecting the senator, not there to assassinate him. Until we know how the wires got crossed, we can’t risk killing innocents. She prayed Sean listened to her. She was not going to be responsible for bloodshed, and no one was going to hurt Ken Norton, not if she could help it. If he was conscious, he’d fight to the death to keep her; she knew that much about him.
She had to keep Sean and her team away from this room and away from the others. But how? She had only seconds before someone triggered an alarm or set off one of the other GhostWalker’s highly tuned senses. Quickly pulling on a pair of jeans, she laid her hand on the wall as she leaned against the door to listen, hoping to hear if Jack Norton had already been alerted to the danger descending on them.
Silence. Complete and utter silence. That made no sense. She caught the whiff of a peculiar odor, faint, but disgusting, much like rotten eggs. Cautiously, Mari pushed open the door. Bodies were strewn all over the floor. Her heart nearly stopped beating. This couldn’t be happening. Were they all dead? Jack, Ken’s brother? Ken would go berserk and hunt down every single member of her team and execute them.
What have you done, Sean? My God, the woman is pregnant. You killed them all? She tasted fear and anger. Tears burned her eyes and clogged her throat. She inhaled sharply and knew the smell was a mixture of gases.
What are you talking about?
She could hear a soft hiss as the gas entered through a pipe in the wall. Her heart nearly stopped beating and she ran to the windows, forcing several open before she caught Lily’s arm and dragged her into the room with Ken before rushing back for Jack.
Stop the gas, goddammit. I mean it, Sean, stop the f**king gas.
Gas? I didn’t—His voice broke off then resumed sharply. Get the hell out of there now. That’s an order, Mari.