Night Game

bed.

“Feel good?”

“You know it does.” Her body tingled everywhere.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. Flame closed her eyes and just absorbed the feel of the sheer mastery of his mouth. She thought it sinful to have a mouth like his and a kiss like he delivered. So hot, so perfect, she wanted to drown in his kisses. His hands roamed over her body. She reveled in the possessive way he touched her, yet he was incredibly gentle, even tender. swirling a fingertip over her bruises, kissing and nibbling his way to her breasts.

She ran her hand over his back, tracing the line, his narrow hip, even as she arched into his mouth, a soft moan escaping as he laved her nipples. He didn’t stop but continued the foray with his tongue, gliding lower to tease the flames riding her hip, to kiss her scar, flicking his tongue over her belly button and kissing his way lower still.

Gator shifted position, drawing her bottom to him and lifting her legs over his shoulders. Flame gripped the quilt beside her, shocked at the sudden convulsing of her tight muscles. He breathed and muscles contracted. “I might not survive,” she whispered.

He ran his thumbs over her soft folds and she arched her back, unable to stop the response. Her lingers bunched the material of the quilt into her hand. She had to hang on to something. Raoul licked her. Long. Slow. Like an ice cream he was savoring. She writhed on the bed, every nerve ending shrieking with awareness. He spent time stroking caresses over her mound, around it, on her soft inner thighs and then he went back to those long slow licks, his tongue broad and flat and sweeping over the outside between her legs until she thought she might really die from sheer pleasure.

“You have to stop.”

“I’m just gettin’ started, sugah. This is me loving you, Cajun-style.”

He stabbed deep with his tongue, and she screamed, her breath coming in wild gasps. His hands went to her breasts, his fingers wrapping gently around the lush flesh. Once more he began his slow movements, circling her clit with easy sweeps, driving her out of her mind. Her breathing went ragged, and she couldn’t stop bucking with her hips or arching her breasts more fully into his hands.

Raoul began slow circles with the pads of his lingers on her aureoles, heightening her pleasure. And then he sucked, the tip of his tongue dancing wickedly, flicking her clit while humming softly. The vibration spread through her body with the strength and sensation of a vibrator. He tugged on her nipples, squeezing in time with the vibration of his humming. Her muscles went into overdrive, clamping hard in a long, convulsing spasm. The orgasm tore through her like a rocket, from her breasts to her belly, engulfing her womb and hot channel until she sobbed with the strength of her release.

Raoul kissed his way up her belly to her breasts, paused to flick her nipples with his tongue and rub his face between the soft mounds. She felt so soft, so hot, almost melting into his body. She moaned softly and he felt it vibrating through his cock. He was so hard, unbelievably so, but this was for her. This night. He had one night to show her he loved her with every fiber of his being.

He lifted her hips with one hand, pressing the head of his erection against her welcoming entrance. She was soaked with desire, and he thrust in, driving through her impossibly tight folds, the pleasure so intense it tore a groan from his throat. He caught her hips in his hands, pulled back and drove as deep as he could go.

She cried out, her body holding his in a hot fist so tight his balls ached with the need for release. All the while her muscles rippled and quaked, adding to the plea sure coursing through him. “You’re so ready, ma belle femme. So damn sexy I don’ know if I’m going to be able to make this last.” He thrust again, a long hard stroke that pushed him to the edge. “You come for me, Flame.”

“I already have.” She wasn’t even sure how many times.

“Again. I want you to come apart in my arms. I want to hear you screaming, cher.” She was panting, her breasts rising and falling with her labored breath. Her hand went to his hip again, fingers digging in deep while he surged in and out of her slowly.

“Then give me more, Raoul. Give me all of you.”

He sank into her, felt the heat rushing through him with the speed of a fireball. He pulled her hips close, lifting her legs over his shoulders and began to ride her hard, long, deep strokes, faster and faster, over and over, burying himself so deep his balls slapped against her bottom. Sweat broke out on his body. The angle allowed him to penetrate her deeply while increasing the friction on her most sensitive spot. It felt like he was surrounded by hot velvet, living, breathing velvet wrapped so tightly around him it was squeezing and milking him.

The walls around him tightened, clamped down with ferocious intensity. Flame screamed and bucked wildly, sending him crashing over the edge right along with her.

There was a roaring in his ears, little hammers tripping in his head and the rush started in his toes and consumed him completely. He emptied himself into her, caught somewhere between heaven and hell. It was the most explosive orgasm he’d ever experienced, the best sex, lust and love tightly intertwined.

He lay over the top of her, shifting enough to stay away from her injured arm, but burying his face in her neck. He closed his eyes, savoring the scent of her, the taste of her, the way her body held so tightly to his. Her hot channel had clamped down so hard on him, she’d ripped the climax out of him before he could stop, before he could make it last longer. And, Dieu, he wanted longer-he wanted forever.

“Marry me.” It came out of nowhere. He hadn’t planned asking. Hadn’t thought about asking. But there it was. Two words that might save them.

She went still, her breath catching in her throat with a little audible hitch. Her breasts heaved against his chest, nipples hard and tight against him. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “Raoul. Don’t. You can’t ask me something like that.”

“Why not? I’m never going to love another woman the way I love you. I want this, what we have right now for always. Don’ you?” He propped himself up on one elbow to stare down into her eyes. He wanted to beg her to save them, but he could only do his best to convince her. “Don’ you want me, cher?”

She cupped the side of his face with her hand, her thumb sliding back and forth over his jaw in a small caress. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb over his lips. “Marriage ceremonies leave paper trails. You know that as well as I do. I believe Peter Whitney is alive. If I were to marry you he’d come after both of us.”

“Lily married Rye and no one’s bothered them.”

“Now that’s a real shocker. You’re just adding to my belief that Lily knows exactly what Whitney is up to.”

“So maybe that wasn’t the best example. What about Nico and Dahlia? You can’t think they’re involved with Whitney.”

She shook her head. “I can think a lot of things you don’t, Raoul. You know Nico, I don’t. For all I know he married Dahlia, and Whitney stays away because she’s right where he wants her to be.”

He kissed her. He tasted his own desperation, his fading hope. He tasted bitterness. “Just let’s do this, Flame. We can go to a friend of mine, here in the bayou. Grand-mere and Wyatt can go with us. I won’t even tell my friends if you’d rather I didn’t. We’ll be low-key.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you until you have to go back.”

Gator turned over onto his back, his fingertips pressed against his eyes. “And then, what? It’s over? You just walk away like nothing happened?”

“I have cancer, Raoul.” She was grateful for the candlelight. It made it so much easier to say the simple truth. She wouldn’t be around all that long once it took hold.

“Whitney put it in remission twice. We’ll go to a doctor.”

“And I’ll be in the computer system for Whitney to find.” She sighed and reached for his hand. “Whitney manufactured his own variety of cancer that last time. He told me he did. If just any oncologist could put it in remission, why would I ever go back to him?”

“Did you ever have it checked out to see if it was the truth?”

“I hacked into his records. At that time, he probably let me, so who knows how accurate they were?”

“Then let’s give it a shot.”

She rolled onto her side. “Raoul, I love you. I know that I do, but I’m not signing your death warrant. I believe Peter Whitney is out there and that he’s looking for me. I will never, under any circumstances, go back there alive.”