Night Reigns

Page 34

Marcus relinquished her lips—her soft, sweet, fantasy-inducing lips—and leaned back. “Raise your arms,” he whispered. She obeyed without question, allowing him to draw her shirt over her head and toss it aside. White lace covered full breasts that rose and fell with rapid breaths.
“Now you,” she said.
Marcus raised his arms and bent over so she could draw his shirt over his head. The look in her eyes as she tossed it aside and studied him … hungry, yet timid … nearly stole his self-control.
She reached out, rested her hands on his chest, tested the feel of him, brushed her thumbs across his nipples, and surprised him by giving them an experimental pinch, igniting a flash fire of sensation.
He hissed in a breath.
Her eyes darted to his. “Was that—?”
“I liked it,” he bit out.
Her lips, plump and rosy from his kisses, turned up in the smile of a temptress. “You did?”
“Yes.”
She did it again.
Marcus groaned, wanting her to slide those hands down and give the bulge in his pants a squeeze.
Her lashes lowered. “Will I like it?”
Impossible though it might seem, the shy inquiry affected him even more than her hands on his body. “Let’s find out, shall we?” Without waiting for a response, Marcus reached behind her and flicked open the catch on her bra.
She gasped and seized the front before it could fall. “Let me,” Marcus entreated hotly.
He could hear her heart slamming against her ribs as she lowered her arms and let the little scrap of material fall away. His own heart did the same as he took in the sight of her plump, pale breasts. “You’re so beautiful.”
Her breath caught as he cupped one in his hand, squeezed gently, and explored the soft flesh above and around her nipple with his thumb. She bit her lower lip, let her lashes drift shut. When he delivered the promised pinch, she jumped, eyes flying open.
“Like it?” he asked, body trembling with need. Say yes. Please, say yes.
“I like it,” she confessed breathlessly.
Marcus couldn’t suppress a growl as he bent down and feasted on her lips once more. “Then let’s see what else you like.” Wrapping his free arm around her, he bent her backward and lowered his head to draw his tongue across her other nipple in a slow, rough caress.
She moaned, the hoarse, involuntary sound making him wild. Her fingers came up to grip his hair and urge him closer. Marcus closed his lips around the hard, pink bud, sucking, laving, nipping with his teeth, careful not to pierce her with his fangs, all the while working her other breast with his hand, his touch growing less gentle, more demanding. When she drew one slender thigh up the outside of his and rubbed her core against his erection, all thoughts of slow and sweet fled, overwhelmed by urgency.
Abandoning her breasts, he picked her up and practically tossed her onto the bed behind her. “I need you naked,” he rumbled, his voice not sounding like his own. “Now.”
Ami’s body burned and tingled in so many places she could hardly think as she watched Marcus kneel on the mattress and straddle her legs.
He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her sweatpants on either side. “Lift your hips.” His eyes, glowing brightly with desire, fastened on her breasts. As she watched, he licked his lips as if he could still taste her, still feel his tongue abrading her, his teeth nipping and biting and making her hungry for more.
Entranced, Ami lifted her hips.
Marcus drew the soft material down her legs over her feet and tossed it to the floor. His gaze dipped to the plain white bikini panties that lacked the lace of her bra. His chest rose and fell with harsh breaths. His hands curled around her ankles, slid up her shins, up her thighs.
Sensation shot through Ami as his thumbs brushed the heart of her, then followed his fingers to the elastic that edged the top of her panties.
“Again,” he said, and Ami wanted to say the same. She wanted him to touch her again where no other had, to feel that white hot lightning sear her and make her writhe.
Instead, she lifted her hips and allowed him to draw the narrow strip of cotton over her hips and down her legs.
His eyes never left her core as he tossed the panties over his shoulder.
A twinge of nerves struck, a tiny spark of vulnerability at being displayed bare before him thusly.
As though he sensed it, he dragged his gaze away and met hers. Easing forward, he stretched out beside her and propped his weight on one elbow. His dark hair framed his face as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. His large, warm hand reclaimed her breast. He slid one knee up, nudging hers apart and pressed his sweatpant-covered thigh against the heart of her.
Heady desire once more raced to the forefront. Ami wrapped her arms around him, slid her hands down the warm, flexing muscles of his back to the knit material on his hips. “You aren’t naked,” she protested. She wanted skin against skin. Couldn’t wait to feel all of him against her, unfettered.
Marcus said nothing, merely lowered his lips to her other breast.
Moaning, she persisted. “You aren’t naked.”
Marcus raised his head, gazing down at her with those eyes, those luminous eyes. “Ami, honey,” he murmured hoarsely, “I’m clinging by a thread here. I want your first time to—”
“I need you naked,” she interrupted, using his own words, and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats. “Now.”
In an instant, he stood at the foot of the bed. His eyes devoured her as he drew his pants down his legs and stepped out of them, then yanked off his socks.
It was the first time Ami had ever seen a naked man. A naked, very aroused man. A large, naked, very aroused man. She leaned up on her elbows to better drink in all of that tanned flesh stretched over sinew and muscle. The taut perfection of his body was marred in several places by wounds that had closed, but were still healing, distracting her from the heavy erection that strained toward her.
“Do they hurt?” she asked.
“What?” he asked absently. His eyes, she noted, once more focused on the red curls at the juncture of her thighs.
“Your wounds. Do they hurt?”
Slowly he wagged his head from side to side. “Not as much as the part of me that aches to be inside you.” His gaze suddenly clashed with hers. “I’m sorry, Ami, but I have to taste you. I can’t wait any longer.”
Taste her? Did he mean her lips? Her breasts?
He again knelt on the bed. Gripping her ankles, he drew them apart and urged her feet back toward her bottom until she lay open before him, knees bent, the heart of her exposed. Then, releasing her, he slid his hands beneath her knees, dove forward, and buried his lips in her copper curls.
Shock swept through her. When he drew his tongue across the nub of her desire, she moaned and fell back against the covers. Never had she felt a pleasure so intense, and it only increased as his lips and tongue stroked and circled and nipped, stealing her breath, eliciting more moans. She fisted her hands in the covers, then released them and tunneled her fingers through his hair, holding him to her, urging him on.
So good.
He slipped a long finger within her.
Mmmm.
And another.
Even better.
Drew them in and out. In and out. She wanted more. Needed more. Then those fingers flexed at the same time his tongue flicked and fireworks exploded within her.
Ami cried out, every muscle tightening, her body clenching and unclenching around his fingers as his tongue continued to work her, drawing out the conflagration that consumed her.
When at last she collapsed against the mattress, she was breathless.
Marcus kissed his way up her stomach, her breasts, and settled his lower body between her thighs. His midnight hair tumbled down around his face as he loomed over her, much of his weight propped on his hands.
Reaching up, Ami buried her fingers in the soft tresses, drawing them back from his face as she marveled over all he had made her feel.
“Ready for more?” he whispered, and she adored him even more for the restraint it had taken for him to ask first. She could feel him trembling, his muscles strung tight with need.
She smiled. “Absolutely.” Drawing his head down, she captured his lips in a kiss she hoped would express everything she couldn’t voice, sliding her tongue forward to boldly stroke his.
Marcus hummed his approval. It was the first time Ami had acted as the aggressor. And she was oh so good at it. He wanted to begin anew. To fondle her breasts and take the time to slowly rouse her to a fevered pitch again, but couldn’t wait. Her cries as she had approached, then reached orgasm had nearly made him come himself. But he wanted to be inside her when he did. Needed to be inside her.
Reaching down, he positioned his cock at her entrance, so slick and warm. He had never been with a virgin before and didn’t know whether breaching her maidenhead slowly or quickly would prove less painful.
Recalling what she had said earlier—that pulling the knife out of her back slowly would have hurt more—he opted for quick and plunged inside to the hilt.
Ami sucked in a breath and stiffened.
Marcus relinquished her lips and forced himself to remain still, to allow her time to adjust. If she asked him to stop, to go no further, he would. It might very well kill him, but he would do it for her.
She didn’t ask. Her muscles relaxed. Her breath soughed out in a sigh.
Marcus met her gaze. “Hurt?” Hopefully she wouldn’t notice he’d had to squeeze the question out through teeth clenched so tightly he wondered that one didn’t crack.
“Only for a moment,” she said and smiled.
Marcus withdrew partially, then slid home again. She bit her lip, another of those delicious moans escaping her. It was all the impetus he needed. Withdrawing to the crown, he thrust again. And again. When he lowered his lips to her breasts, Ami slid her arms around him and grabbed his ass with her small sweet hands, spurring him on.
He wanted it to last, to draw it out, but couldn’t. He could feel the pressure rapidly building within him.
Reaching down, he found her clitoris and teased it with his fingers. Almost instantly, her body arched and her inner muscles clamped down around him as she cried out in bliss. Marcus roared as the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced ripped through him, continuing on and on until he collapsed on top of her, utterly sated.