Return of the Assassin (All the King's Men) (26 page)

With his tongue, he outlined the subtle taper that extended from her jaw then swept out to her shoulder. What a magnificent expanse of skin. So supple. So smooth. And her taste…perfection.

"God, your neck is sexy." He nibbled and suckled, creating a trail from ear to shoulder, then from right to left so he could sample every inch. Gina's was a neck to adore, treasure, and bow down to. Just the thought of biting her at the nape nearly made him come, and he wasn't even inside her yet.

Her inner thighs caressed his hips as she wrapped her legs around him and slid her feet to the inside of his knees.

A tangle of limbs and pulsating heat, they writhed skin-against-skin, and he ground his erection against the heart of her. She kept one arm wrapped around the bunching muscles of his back and held his face to her neck with the other. "Don't stop. I like that." Her words came out as a breathless whisper, and she stretched, pulled her damp hair away, and bared her throat. "More."

Bless her. She wanted him to feast exactly where he wanted to remain. And he had no intention of stopping, not now that his fractured psyche had glued itself back together to connect his disjointed personalities into one again.

He thrust against her, and the shaft of his cock glided smoothly between her nether lips, riding up and over her clit. So good. She was wet and ready for him, hot and wanton, and her throaty groan blistered his flesh.

The time for fast and furious had passed. Now was time to luxuriate and appreciate. To explore and learn her curves and valleys. To extol her beauty and set the reverential pace for the rest of their lives. Because he would never take for granted another day with this bloom of perfection known as Gina. Each moment was a gift, and each day would be another to remind him of his fortune. Now that he had found her and embraced all that she was, he was the richest male in the world. He would never forget that again.

Keeping his mouth at her nape, he pressed his nose and lips against her skin as each thrust demanded more. With each advance, she lifted her hips to meet his, breathing out incoherent, monosyllabic exclamations every time their bodies rocked toward the headboard. She squirmed beneath him, gasped in need, and her breasts crushed against his chest as she arched her back and moaned.

Her body was an oasis of pleasure. The temperature rose, heat flooded him, and his muscles contracted in a way he hadn't felt in centuries. Restraint ebbed as unbridled desire flowed, and he rocked more forcefully against her. He pulled back farther, drove the length of his cock between her slickened lips with more power. The point of no return fast approached—if not already passed—and just as their moans reached desperate levels, the head of his cock breeched her as he began another upward thrust.

They both froze, and neither dared to breathe for a heartbeat.

Malek lifted himself on his arms and looked into her eyes, which sparkled with anticipation as she heaved for breath, her chest rising and falling heavily. So beautiful. So precious.

Mine, mine…all mine. Forever.

With parted lips and pleading eyes, she pushed her fingers into his long hair and lifted it away from his face. Her tongue peeked out and wet her lips. "Please don't stop. Please…I've needed this for too long." Her hand, tense with yearning, cupped his face.

She looked as if she feared he would pull away again, just as he had hours earlier in his home, when all he had wanted was to go to her. Instead, he fled and sought comfort in another.

Not anymore and never again. She needn't worry that he would run scared and abandon her. Those days were over and his fears no longer held sway over him. With her, he was complete and had found his place. There would be no more retreat…no more running away. His heart was hers to rule for the rest of his life. His body was hers to find her own pleasure in, and to bring to ecstasy with her touch.

"Sshh." He turned into her hand, kissed her palm, turned back to meet her gaze again, and then nudged his way farther inside. "I'm where I belong…where I want to stay forever."

Gina's brow softened as relief washed through her expression, and her eyelids drifted to half-mast as a plaintive moan flowed from deep within her belly, followed by an erotic sigh as she shifted under him and held him more tightly.

This was home. With her. Now. For the rest of his life.

He sank all the way in, and they both bit out a staccato exhale as they succumbed to one another.

Refuge.

Gina's body was a refuge, and he found solace within her sleeve of perfect warmth and sanctuary. Like taking a breath, each deliberate stroke gave Malek life.

New
life. Because he hadn't truly lived since Carmen's death. Not until he'd found Gina. He had merely gone through the motions, taking in oxygen simply because his reflexes forced him to breathe, eating to squelch the hunger in his belly, taking blood for the same reason. But all this time, what he had been doing couldn't be called living. He had existed, but he hadn't lived. But now, he could actually hear his own heartbeat. It pumped hard and strong, ready to burst with love. He breathed not because he had to, but because he wanted to take in her essence and let her scent invade every microscopic crevice inside him. And his appetite for food and blood burst back to life, and not just for sustenance, but to enjoy with all five senses.

He wanted to feast on life. On Gina.

Anchored to her as if she kept him from setting adrift, he advanced and retreated with an ease that was only diminished by the urgency with which he held her and assaulted her neck with his lips and tongue.

This is what I wanted. This is who I needed.

For the first time in weeks, and unlike the rushed, frenetic climaxes he'd had in the shower, his orgasm got out of the easy chair it had taken up residence in and prepared to give him hell.

He buried his arms between Gina and the mattress. Her skin tasted exquisite. Surely her blood would taste just as fine. Every part of him wanted to sink in his fangs, but he held back. Not yet, not yet. But soon.

Each forceful exhale rode the rising crescendo of muscular tension that pulled his body taut. The energy built inside him as if he were a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse, and with each inhale, his senses flooded with more of her irresistible scent, which fueled him, fired his desire, and coiled him into a tight ball ready to explode.

The way her nails dug into his back as her arms tightened around him was perfect, because he wanted her to hold him close, keep him there, and never let go. Her hips raised and rocked in rhythm against him with an urgency that only served to take him closer to the edge with each long, measured stroke.

Oh fuck.

There comes a time while making love that a male simply has to forget about everything else…about taking his time…about giving his partner pleasure…about being gentle. And Malek
had reached that point. His body took over for him, pushing away conscious effort to speed toward the destination culminating in the center of his soul.

His hips slapped rapidly against her inner thighs, his abs screamed from exertion, and his legs tightened into ramming rods. He was about to come, and he was ready to feel the full force of his orgasm's brutality. Beyond ready. He had gone unsatisfied far too long, and the consolation comes of weeks past were no longer welcome. The rushed, explosive bursts in the shower had been breath-taking and satisfying, but he didn't just want to lose his breath. He wanted to lose his mind. He wanted to lose himself and feel his muscles shred in ecstasy.

With an urgent groan, he tightened his grip, his body contracted, and with one last, smooth thrust, he blew apart.

"Oh God!" His abdomen tightened and released through each successive pump of his erection as he emptied himself into her, grunting hard through wave after wave of release.

It wasn't until a moment later that he realized Gina's body had fallen into rapid contractions beneath him. Her entire body seemed to have fallen into orgasm as his name shuddered from her lips.

Malek lifted his gaze to find her head thrown back, her eyes closed in rapture, her pink lips open as she sucked in her breath and cried out again as another wave of shuddering bliss overtook her. Her short, dark hair spilled over the white pillowcase, tousled, damp, and utterly adorable.
She
was adorable, so precious and perfect.

Unable to hold back, he closed his mouth over hers, breathed her, tasted her, feasted on her full lips as she answered in kind. Back and forth, they traded tongues and teeth. Their combined orgasms drew out and left them shivering and battered until finally he stilled above her, pulled his mouth from hers, and bowed his forehead against the top of her shoulder, spent and breathless.

What they had just shared had been beautiful and perfect.

He had needed this, and apparently, so had she.

Closing his eyes, he buried his face against her neck once more, his body crashing as his orgasm waned.

Happy now
?
The Voice said quietly, sprawled in exhaustion.

God yes. I've found where I belong.

It's about time. My work here is done.

With that, The Voice was gone. It was just him. Him and her. Gina. His life-giving mate. He was finally able to say good-bye once and for all to his beloved Carmen.

Rest in peace, my love. But my place is here now. With Gina. I love her.

He had a feeling Carmen was gazing down on him, smiling, happy to see him whole and alive again.

Good-bye, Carmen. Thank you for loving me, but it's time to let you go.

Brak blinked against the sunlight as he woke up. Even with the sunglasses Cynthia gave him, the brightness hurt his eyes.

"What time is it?" He adjusted the seat, which Cynthia had shown him how to recline when they'd stopped for breakfast, and sat up, squinting. He rubbed his fingers over his sleep-crusted eyes under the dark lenses.

"It's almost one o'clock. I thought we'd stop for lunch and a quick restroom break. I need to pee."

"So do I." Maybe he shouldn't have had that second cup of coffee at breakfast, because he was about to burst. He wasn't used to being away from the comforts of his cell like this, where he could drink as much as he wanted without worrying over when the next bathroom break would come.

He tried to ignore the discomfort of his bladder and gazed out the window as the scenery flew past.

It was a wonder he had fallen asleep at all, but after he had gotten used to the speed of the car and its gentle rocking motion and the lull of the engine, exhaustion, along with a large breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and milk—and a decanter of decaf—had taken him under. He had slept for the past five hours. Then again, what he'd done the day before had drained him. He needed sleep to recover and recharge his power.

"Where are we?" He looked out the window at the more densely populated landscape. Buildings jutted skyward in rows. Apartment buildings. He had seen pictures of them on the Internet. And lines of houses and industrial-looking shopping centers sprawled on either side of the highway. Shiny glass buildings loomed ahead, and a line of traffic was encroaching on his right, entering the highway. Cars and tractor-trailers closed them in on all sides.

He jarred to attention, suddenly claustrophobic and panicked.

"Sshh, sshh, Brak." Cynthia reached across the seat and took his hand. "We're outside Indianapolis, just north of the city."

He stared in fear as a car entered the freeway and pulled up alongside them. If he opened his window, he swore he could have reached out and touched it.

"The cars are so close." He looked in the mirror beside him, then out the front window and to the left, past Cynthia.

"They're not as close as they look, sweetie. Just relax. I do this all the time. I won't let them hit us."

She was so confident, calm, and relaxed. Would he ever be so calm in the driver's seat of a car like this? The last time he was free to roam where he pleased, the fastest transportation had been a horse. And traveling in comfort meant riding in a carriage, which had been a privilege of the upper class. Roads had been worn dirt paths or maybe cobblestone in the bigger cities, where structures had been built of wood, laid brick, or stone, not steel and glass. He had lived in a one-room thatch hut with an underground chamber where his father slept. Everything was so different now. What if he couldn't live in this new world he had missed out on as it grew up around him?

The car slowed and Cynthia veered onto what he knew by now was called an off ramp. "What are you in the mood for, sweetie?" she said in her Southern drawl.

"What do you mean?" He was on sensory overload. There was so much to see, he didn't know where to look first.

"Food," she said. "Aren't you hungry? I'm famished."

Multiple lanes of traffic fed north on what looked like another highway, more crowded than the one they'd just left. "Sure." He was hungry. He could eat.

"How about Bob Evans." She pointed ahead to the right.

He really didn't know a Bob Evans from a hole in the ground. "Okay."

"They have good food, sweetie. Kind of like home. Biscuits and gravy, fried chicken, good stuff. You'll like it."

He hadn't eaten much other than what Jacob and Haslet had seen fit to provide to him in groceries back in West Virginia, but he trusted Cynthia. If she told him the food was good, he believed her.

"How far are we from Chicago?" he said.

"Just a few more hours. We'll be there before nightfall." She turned onto the cross street and into the parking lot for Bob Evans. "If you think the traffic here is bad, just wait. You ain't seen nothing yet."

He glanced back out toward the highway, at all the cars lined up bumper-to-bumper at the stoplight they'd just gone through. Chicago was worse than this? What was he in for? Not that it really mattered. As long as he got back to Trace and his father, he would endure traffic a hundred times worse than this.

What was left of his family was all that mattered. That and finding new purpose now that he was free.