Caine's Reckoning (44 page)

The frown didn’t decrease. “That nervous.”

He could tell from the way she jumped when his fingertips nestled into the well of her vagina. “You afraid I’m going to bite?”

From the way her eyes widened, it obviously hadn’t occurred to her. “Are you?”

“Maybe a nip here—” a touch to her labia “—and there.” A quick graze of her swelling clit. “But only if you’re very good and ask very nicely.”

“Oh.”

He smiled again. Clearly she didn’t know what to make of that. “So what has you nervous?”

Her mouth worked for the duration of two anxious glances, and then a shake of her head.

“You worried I’m not going to like you this way?”

“It’s not sanitary.”

“It’s no different than when you take me in your mouth.”

She blinked and then in a carefully controlled voice said, “There’s a big difference.”

“On that I will agree. Men are ugly creatures, where you, Desi girl, are as pretty as a flower.”

He traced her contours with his finger, letting her see the desire burning him from the inside out, capturing the pearl of fluid clinging to the baby-soft hair covering her mound. He closed his eyes as the fresh taste spread over his tongue. Sweet. He opened his eyes and met her gaze dead on. “And you taste better than any chocolate.”

Her gaze darkened, her hips twitched, but the frown between her eyes deepened. “You’re not ugly.”

It was his turn to blink. He parted her folds, exposing the deep pink inner surface and the nub of her clitoris. “I don’t have a patch on you, Gypsy girl. I’m all scarred and hard and you’re just sweet perfection.”

“I like your scars.”

“Good thing, as I have so many.” He drew lazy circles on her flesh as he worked his way to that high point.

Her hips moved in a subtle shift against his tongue, increasing the friction.

“What else do you like?” he asked, giving her mind something else to work on than fretting if she should let him do this.

He tapped her clitoris lightly, holding her steady as she flinched, flattening his tongue as she pressed down, providing a warm cushion for her to snuggle that nerve-laden nub into. He cupped her buttocks in both his palms, holding her right there.

“I like the way you look,” she gasped. “I like the way your face reflects your inner strength. I just need to look at you to know I can trust you.”

He rewarded her with a little rub. The restless movement of her body stopped. A quiver started in her arms and ended against his receptive tongue, leaving her muscles tense and expectant in the aftermath. She was warming up to the idea of his mouth. Caine bussed her shy, swelling clit lightly before meeting her gaze and asking, “What else do you like?”

“I like the way you can carry me if you need to.”

As if that were anything special. She barely weighed enough to register. Still it was a concession, so he rewarded her with another slow, leisurely lap, glossing over the engorged nub until the flex of her knees told him she needed more. He gave it to her in a steady, gliding pass, moaning himself as her flesh swelled and moistened, encouraging her to more obvious statements of her need.

One more kiss and he asked, “Anything else?”

She didn’t immediately answer, just stared at him, the conflict going on inside reflected in her expression.

“C’mon, Gypsy, let that wildness out.”

Another hesitation and then a softly whispered, “I love the way you smell, the way you feel against my tongue—” The statement broke in a gasp as he laved her again. She caught her breath, pushing against his mouth as she groaned, “The way you taste.”

Her shuddered “Oh, God, harder!” broke the last of his control. She was ready, more than ready for what he wanted from her. Her complete submission. “Come here.”

He pulled her down onto the lash of his tongue, the taste of her desire whipping like a forest fire through his system, her cries and pleas, just more fuel to the flames. He wanted to devour her, drive her from peak to peak, higher and higher, until she’d come at the touch of his tongue, until she was so much his she couldn’t think of another man.

Her shock as she felt his teeth pulled him back from the aggressive edge. She was new to this. If he wasn’t careful, he’d ruin it. “Easy, baby.”

Her hair whipped across the sheets in a hiss of impatience. “I don’t want easy.”

“Then stop fighting me. Relax into what I’m making you feel.”

“That’s not—” she gasped as he caught her clit in his teeth “—as easy as you make it sound.”

He let her anticipate the sweet sting before he covered his teeth with his lips and let them glide off slow and easy.

“Sweetheart, accepting pleasure from your husband should be the most natural thing going.”

“And if I go wild and lose control?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

She lowered herself back to him, not waiting for his coaxing. “And what happens if you lose control?”

“Then you catch me.”

She cupped her mound in her hand, putting the barrier of her fingers between them. He kissed the back and slid his tongue between her fingers, inevitably finding his way back to that silky heat, smiling as she gasped and rocked against him. She didn’t have a prayer of keeping him from her.

“We’re partners?”

“Until the day we die.”

Her eyes met his, searching. “You really believe that.”

It wasn’t a question. “Don’t you?”

There was a long pause, and then that indefinable tension that colored all their interactions disappeared. That wonderful smile she so rarely showed him spread across her face, revealing the slightly crooked eyetooth he loved to run his tongue over. “Yes.”

He kissed her fingers. “Then prove it. Move your hand.”

The smile turned positively witchy. “Make me.”

An answering smile started deep in his gut. “You should never challenge a Ranger, Desi girl.”

“I’m not.”

He raised his brow at her.

“I’m challenging my husband.”

“Even worse.”

He rubbed his palm over her buttock, heating the firm flesh to his hand. “Challenging a husband makes it a matter of principle.”

Her hand didn’t move, but her butt pressed into his palm with dark yearning. “Lucky me.”

He brought his hand down on her in a sharp spank. She gasped and jerked, but not in fear. Surprise and interest darkened her gaze as the hot little sting spread.

“I think it’s more like lucky me. Move your hand.”

She shook her head. He didn’t miss the way her breath caught and she held herself perfectly still, her back subtly arched. She was waiting for him to do it again. He did, ghosting his hand over her left cheek, watching her tremble as the anticipation crested in disappointment. Before it could settle, he spanked her again, this time hard enough to give a little sting.

“Oh, God.”

“‘Oh, God, save me’ or ‘Oh, God, do it again’?”

A pregnant little pause and then, “Do it again.”

Damn, she was a hot little thing. The next smack yanked a cry from her lips, and her hand out of his way. She braced herself on the bed, her spine arching, pushing her buttocks back, her pussy down. He took advantage of both invitations. Laving her silken flesh with his tongue, giving her the stinging pleasure of another smack. Against his tongue, her pussy spasmed. Cream spilled from her body, breathless cries from her lungs.

He moved his attention toward that tight little bundle of nerves that swelled, cradling it gently, rubbing her ass and her clit in time, massaging the heat into both, measuring her pleasure in the pulse of her breath, the clench of her muscles, the shudder that took her from head to toe.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered against her.

“Wife,” she gasped.

He smiled and traced a smooth path from her anus to her vagina, teasing the entrance, tickling the nerves to life. “
That
I’m not likely to forget.”

He slid his finger in that first little bit. She clenched around him, hard and tight. He rode out the spasm, waiting for her to relax before working his finger deeper. She clenched again, halting his progress. He took her clit into the heat of his mouth, and slapped her ass just a bit harder than before, delivering to them both a white-hot bolt of delight.

She rocked on his face, her breath coming in sporadic gasps. His cock throbbed with the same rhythm as he supported her weight in one hand. She gripped him tighter, he spanked her harder. Her pleasure flowed, desire roared, lust surged through him. His cock leapt and fought the confines of his pants. His muscles knotted with hunger as her body opened for his thrust. God, she was sweet.

Another spank, another ripple, another lap. Little by little, he drove her higher, increasing the pressure, the depth, the force with every other beat, letting her cries drive him on, absorbing her shock, her pleasure, keeping it up until her body was whipcord taut. He nipped her clit, once, twice, holding the sensitive flange of flesh between his teeth, letting her wonder, worry, giving her that little edge that spiked her passion higher before bearing down, ever so lightly.

Her back arched, her head, the ends of her hair lashed his stomach as she writhed above him, caught on the plane between pain and pleasure, unsure which way to go, what to do. Needing guidance. Guidance he was more than willing to give. Wanted to give. He wanted to give her everything. Every pleasure. Every desire. Everything her wild little soul desired.

“Come for me.” He thrust his finger deep, settling his thumb on her clitoris, rubbing hard as he spanked her ass in a rapid cadence bringing the erotic sting to play. “Now, Desi.”

She fell into his command, into her climax and then into his arms. And he caught her as he’d promised, kissing her mouth, her breasts, the underside of her chin before going back to her mouth, taking each little gasp into himself as she slid his thigh up, pressing in, coaxing another shudder out of her. Another sigh. Her arms came around his neck as she settled against him, light as down. She whispered his name.

“What?”

Her fingers made a half-ass pat at his cheek. “You caught me.”

“I told you I would.”

She turned fully into his arms. “And you always keep your promises.”

“I’m Hell’s Eight.”

“So am I.”

He brushed the hair off her cheek. “Better than that.” He rolled her under him, throwing his thigh over hers. “You’re mine.”

She didn’t argue, didn’t open her eyes, just smiled that soft, enigmatic smile. “Hmm.”

He propped himself up on his elbow. Her gown was bunched around her waist and gaped away from her right breast. The white mound shivered with her erratic breathing. The little tip was hard and pink and straining. He’d neglected her breasts. He’d have to make up for that. He caught the peak in his mouth. She jumped, her hands cradling his head, half holding him and half pushing him away.

He glanced up. “Sensitive?”

Her lip slipped between her teeth. She nodded.

He cupped the plump mound in his palm. Her flesh was white and smooth. His hand was dark and rough, swallowing the mound. Too rough for her. She deserved better, and if her father hadn’t been a dream-fed fool she’d be living back east in a big fancy house with servants and a man like him wouldn’t even get close enough to see the color of her eyes, let alone touch her breast.

Bur her father had been a fool and now she was his, and he wasn’t anyone’s fool. She was so small, so dainty and so damn sexy she made him ache with lust, passion and a hundred softer emotions he couldn’t name. “I’ll be easy, then.”

That vow wasn’t as simple as it sounded. While she lay replete and oversensitive from her orgasms, his own desire was riding him hard. His balls ached, his cock throbbed and every nerve in his body burned as if consumed by fire. Caine needed to be in her. He wanted nothing more than to climb on top of her, push her legs apart and fuck her hard and deep, make a place for himself in her body the way he wanted to make a place for himself in her life.

Except the latter wasn’t going to happen. She was too fine for this land. Too fine to want to stay with him once she healed. But for now she was his, and he hadn’t gotten where he was in life by throwing away opportunities. And he could learn to live with the guilt of denying her the life she’d been raised for. Maybe.

The turgid tip of her breast, damp from his mouth, swollen from his attentions, beckoned. He answered the call gently, ever so gently suckling the spongy nipple, beating back his selfish urges. This was his wife, the woman he’d promised to cherish. She arched up into his kiss, offering him more. Without hesitation, he took it, sucking harder, absorbing her start, holding her in place as he gave her what they both needed, forcing her to accept both the pleasure and edge of pain she craved, keeping her in place, steadying her through the shock until she reached the gratification beyond, knowing she found it when she gasped and grabbed his head.

“Harder.”

The whisper whipped around him, flaying his control. He wanted to yank her beneath him, mount her, mark her, brand her as his, compel her to fit into his life. He shook his head as she gasped and her fingers feathered through his hair. He’d never felt the need to brand another woman, but with Desi, it was an overwhelming urge, maybe because he knew how unfair it was for him to have claimed her. She groaned and held him to her. Unfair or not, she was his. Contradictions and all. So delicate and sweet in looks, yet wild and demanding in her passion. Eager for the tiny bite of pain with her pleasure, pulling back from it however, even as he gave it to her. As if she feared that part of her.