Shadow Reaper

Page 75

 
“I do?”
 
Her hands were on his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin, flares of heat shooting down his spine at the streaks of fire the action produced. Dio, he loved her hands on him. He loved the evidence of her wildcat, the one that emerged when she wasn’t thinking too hard.
 
“You do,” he assured, taking the opportunity to slide his other knee between her legs, wedging them open so he could sweep his hand from her belly button to her mound. He went up on his knees so that he was kneeling.
 
She gasped. Her gaze jumped from his face to his hand.
 
“What does that feel like?”
 
Her eyes went back to his face, her gaze searching his. He waited patiently, his hand gently moving, fingers finding her damp and ready. He didn’t take his gaze from hers. He watched her take a breath, her breasts moving with the air in her lungs.
 
“Fire. A trail of fire.”
 
“What does this make you feel?”
 
He pushed his finger into her, stretching her slowly, forcing his way through the tight folds. His cock throbbed and jerked, so in need. So ready to feel her sheath surrounding him. He felt like he’d waited his entire life for this moment, this woman.
 
Her gaze dropped to his cock as he circled it with his free hand. Her eyes widened. She looked a little frightened, but her slick cream coated his finger, allowing him to slip a little deeper.
 
“Needy. Desperate.”
 
He loved that she was honest with him. He loved the way her hair was wild, spilling over the pillow, the way her exotic eyes had gone to amber, and her skin felt like silk. He wanted to see her like this every night. Wake up every morning to her.
 
He reached over to the nightstand, thankful he’d remembered to put condoms close. He was going to make certain to protect her. He wanted her to know that he wasn’t marrying her for the rider community. To have children. He wanted her to always know she was first in his heart. His choice. No, even more than that. He rolled on the condom, loving the way she watched, as if it was an important detail she would need to learn. Twice her tongue came out to moisten her lips, and when he caught her legs and pulled them around him, she made a sexy little sound that sent a vibration right through his cock. Once more his hand tested her.
 
“You’re ready for me, amore.”
 
“I feel ready,” she admitted. “So ready. I want to just scream at you to get on with it, but I’m scared, too.”
 
He loved that she trusted him enough to admit both to him. She wasn’t coy or shy; she was willing to make her own demands even if she was a little afraid.
 
He pressed the head of his cock to her damp entrance. Heat flared through him and he caught his breath. His body trembled with need. That had never happened to him before.
 
“Ricco.” Demand was in her voice.
 
He flashed his wicked grin, but he didn’t let her impatience hurry him. He wanted this to be good for her, and no matter the cost to him, he was going to give that to her. He sank into her hot, wet, tight sheath. The sensitive head of his cock felt on fire. Gripped hard. Squeezed. Stroked. He clenched his teeth and forced his body to stay still when his hips wanted to thrust forward hard, to bury his cock deep. Instead, he made slow circles with his fingers on her hips, trying to ease her tension.
 
“I can’t breathe.”
 
She was panting, her breath coming in ragged little gasps. He felt like doing a little panting of his own. Fire could be exquisite, and the tight sheath surrounding him was just that. He inched forward and her eyes went wide and shocked. He had to breathe deeply as her muscles clamped down like a vise. A sweet, hot vise.
 
“You’re too big. It burns.” Her hands went to his, although she didn’t push him away.
 
“You’re very tight, Mariko,” he said, using his rope master voice, the one that always steadied her. “Give your body a minute to adjust. It will. Trust me, amore, you were born for me.”
 
Her gaze clung to his and he waited, her hands on his until the tension drained out of her and left her face. She nodded. “Much better.”
 
He wanted it great for her, not just “much better,” but she was new at it and he wasn’t the smallest man ever born. Patience. He chanted it over and over in his mind. He slipped in another inch and then he was bumping her thin barrier, all the while watching her face.
 
She was squirming now, making it difficult for him to go slow. Every shift of her body sent ripples through her tight muscles so they danced and massaged and milked his cock. He threw back his head, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. He deserved fucking sainthood for this. Dio, he’d never felt anything like it.
 
“Ricco, I need —”
 
She broke off as he surged forward, past her barrier, pushing through the tight folds so they opened for him, just enough to let him in. He wanted to howl it was so good, the fire streaking up his cock, spreading through his groin and up his spine. He buried himself deep and stilled again, giving her body time to adjust.
 
“You good?” She had to be. He wasn’t certain he was going to survive.
 
She nodded her head, a slow smile curving her mouth. She was good. That meant so was he. He bent over her, his cock stroking inside her. She gasped and her muscles clamped down on him, the friction incredible as he slowly withdrew. Planting a hand on either side of her head, he began to move in her. Slowly at first, to make certain she could take it, and then, when her body responded with more damp fire, he set a fast, hard rhythm.
 
Fire surrounded his shaft, an exquisite burn as she clamped down like a silken fist. He threw back his head, breathing deeply, his gaze locked on her face to absorb the perfection of the sensation and the beauty of the passion there. Her breath came in little pants. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dazed, gaze clinging to his for reassurance.
 
Her body writhed on the sheets and her fingernails streaked more fire down his back. Dio, he loved that. Loved every second with her. He plunged deep and hard, burying his body again and again in her, the scorching friction creating flames burning through his body like a raging firestorm.
 
Mariko couldn’t look away from his face and the dark passion stamped there. He looked utterly sensual, completely focused, an ancient samurai warrior claiming her for his own. He moved in her faster and harder. Every hard thrust sent jolts of pleasure rippling through her body like waves taking her higher and higher until fear began to creep in. She couldn’t let go. She didn’t know how.
 
She wasn’t certain if she was going to live through her first time. Her breasts brushed his chest, so sensitive she felt as if pinpoints of fire brushed over her nipples each time. Lightning seemed to rip through her body, sizzling through her bloodstream with a rush of white-hot heat connecting her breasts to her sheath.
 
Fire roared through her, threatening to destroy her. She couldn’t quite catch her breath, and there was no stopping the sensations swamping her. She looked up at him. Ricco. She felt him in her then. With her. Connected. His hands were steady and certain. His shaft swelled, the friction growing even hotter. She found his dark gaze with her frightened one. She could see tenderness. Something more she was afraid to name.