Her pussy flexed, tightening until he was forced to bury his fingers inside her and simply stroke the over excited flesh with his fingertips rather than risk hurting her with hard thrusts. The orgasm that tore through her and rippled around him, tightening her flesh around them had her juices rushing across his fingers.
So tight, the thought of having his cock buried in her as she came so violently made him insane to fuck her.
He existed purely for this pleasure.
In the back of his mind, Rafer knew he had been born to possess this one woman. That he could easily find himself living simply for the chance to touch her, to feel her coming for him, to hear his name as a gasping plea on her lips.
And if he wasn’t very very careful, she would destroy him when she slipped away from him again.
When Cami collapsed against him, her breathing harsh, heavy, Rafe lowered his head to her ear once more.
“Now, it’s my turn,” he said as she trembled against him. “Are you ready for me, baby? Because I’m damned sure ready for you.”
CHAPTER 4
She couldn’t do this.
As they tore off each other’s clothing, dropping shirts, jeans, and in her case silk panties, Cami kept telling herself she couldn’t allow this to happen.
This was Rafer Callahan. She had fought him, fought this hunger, this attraction for him for as long as she could remember. She had fought the emotional ties she had felt tugging at her. Well, not always. Not until Jaymi had been killed and she suspected her sister had died because of her friendship with Rafe, rather than because of a serial killer choosing her. She had realized what those emotional ties could cause. Losing Jaymi had nearly destroyed her world. She wouldn’t survive losing Rafe.
As he tore her panties from her hips his lips were on hers, his hands lifting her as her knees lifted and gripped his hard, lean flanks. Her body refused to obey the demands of her common sense. Her lips refused to say “no.”
The stiff, furiously engorged flesh of his cock was trapped between them, throbbing and pressing against the swollen, sensitive bud of her clit. Every nerve ending was sensitized. Hunger was tearing at her with furious demand.
He stumbled across the room as her hands buried in his hair, pulling free the strip of leather that held his long, thick black hair back from his savagely hewn face.
Gripping the thick strands, she tried to lift herself closer, to bury herself deeper in the kiss that stoked the flames burning in her pussy.
Her womb clenched, her body became hot and flushed despite the perspiration that gathered on her flesh.
This was what tormented her long into the night.
This was that unnamed hunger that gnawed at her and kept her searching restlessly for ease.
It was Rafer. His touch, his kiss, the steady, fiery demand of the hunger he poured into her.
This was what she hungered for.
For his lips moving over hers as she felt her naked buttocks settle on the heavy kitchen table.
The coffee cups were raked aside, the heavy plastic crashing on the floor.
Was this one of the fantasies he’d once told her he had about her?
Nothing could be as explicit as her fantasies for him.
“No,” the desperate command burst from her lips as his lips lifted, from hers his head pulling back as he stared down at her. Deep sapphire-blue eyes narrowed on her as they gleamed with naked, furious lust.
“I told you, I’m going to fuck your pussy with my tongue,” he told her. “I have every intention of tasting every bit of flesh I bury into.”
Her lips parted on a shocked exclamation. A totally involuntary sound as her hands dug deeper into his hair. Her neck arched as his lips ran along her jaw, then the column of sensitive flesh as her head fell back weakly to allow him access.
Broad hands flattened on her back as he kept her close to him, despite her perched position on the table. Angling his body between her knees, he pressed her thighs apart as he nipped at her neck. Then he licked the light abrasion, his tongue rasping over the sensitive flesh with erotic roughness.
Another moan slipped past her lips. That part of her that lived in fear of losing someone else she loved was screaming out in agony. Begging her to deny him.
What was it about his touch? What made Rafer Callahan so different from the other men she had dated? So different that as he lowered her along the table, her back meeting the cool wood, she would try to arch closer in eager anticipation. So different that the voice of agony was slowly silenced. She needed this. Needed him, his touch, his kiss, like the land needed sunlight and rain.
His thumbs found her nipples as her back arched.
The exciting abrasion of his calloused thumbs against the sensitive tips had her arching, twisting to get closer.
“Suck them, Rafe,” she moaned. “Oh God, I need your mouth on my nipples again. Just one more time hard like you did before.”
She could have been shocked that the words slipped out so easily, the demand in her voice as explicit as the words themselves.
Her fingers curled, tightening in his hair.
She couldn’t stand to breathe. She wanted no other need, no other impulse, no matter how life sustaining, to distract her from his lips as they painted a trail of sizzling electric pleasure over her flesh.
The shaft of his cock pressed against the wet folds of her pussy, the grinding shift of his hips forcing her swollen folds to part and rasping at the tiny bud.
She wanted. She wanted him so badly that she could barely hold back a scream of reaction as the iron hot shaft moved against the tender bud, stroking it.
Not that she had the breath to scream. She could barely breathe.
Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze on his lips as he placed small, nipping kisses along the mounds of her breasts. His eyes glittered with wicked promise, with teasing sensuality. As she watched, his lips moved closer, then pulled back from the aching nipples.
Her nipples ached.
Licking her lips to ease the dryness there, she could watch, ache for more. As she watched his lips draw closer, closer.
“I love your lips, your tongue,” she breathed out. “I love it when you suck my nipples, Rafe. I dream of you sucking my nipples.”
Oh God.
Keening and low, shattered and weak, a moan burst from her as his lips covered an agonizing hard tip. It was like pure liquid heat surrounding it. His tongue rubbed, licked. Heated and moist, he flicked it over her nipple before he began sucking it with fiery abrasions. He drew on it with erotic hunger, sucking it, sending jagged fingers of intense sensation rushing to her womb, her clit.
“Rafer.” She was delirious with pleasure. “Yes. Suck it. Suck it hard.”
She needed more. She couldn’t get a hard-enough caress, a deep-enough touch.
At her trembling plea his lips tightened around the nerve-laden center, suckling it deeper, his cheeks hollowing, his tongue flicking against it, rasping the nerve endings as flares of brilliant flames began to ignite across her body.
“Rafer,” she cried out his name. Her fingers clenched in his hair, moved to his shoulders. Her fingers
