The Awakening Page 22

A scream ripped its way out of her throat. Her body bucked and convulsed. His tongue was relentless, stabbing, probing, sucking at her body, creating earthquakes and fireworks, shattering her into a million pieces. It went on and on, a storm of pure pleasure she was lost in, thrashing beneath him without inhibition, crying out for him, pleading with him to be deep inside of her where she needed him, where he belonged.

Brandt caught her hips in his hand, pulled her down the bed until her bottom was on the edge and he was tight against her. His erection was heavy and thick, the head so sensitive as he pushed into her, his body shuddered with pleasure. She was like a hot, slick fist, velvet soft but so tight he nearly lost all control. He forced himself to take his time, to fill her slowly, to push deeper and deeper into her body, wanting her to take every inch of him.

Maggie heard a keening sound, realized it was she. His body was invading her, a thick, hard fullness that brought a fiery friction of intense pleasure. She could feel her body adjusting, accommodating his size. And then he began to move and she was lost to everything but the conflagration he was building, feeding.

He moved slowly at first, watching her for signs of discomfort. When she lifted her hips to meet his, he began to lose himself in the perfect rhythm, hard and fast, plunging into her, driving deeper. The little noises escaping her throat drove him wild. “Take all of me, honey, all of me.” It was a plea, a demand. She burned hotter and hotter, gripping him tightly.

He thrust hard, reveling in the way her body trembled with pleasure, the way her breasts jutted upward, her stomach rippled, her eyes glazed slightly as their bodies came together. The sight of her, the feel of her was his undoing. He wanted it to last forever, but he had wanted too long, too much, and his body had other ideas. He felt it start in his toes, rising higher and higher, his belly on fire, hips thrusting ferociously, almost brutally, his hands pinning her to him, while he erupted with jets of hot cream, filling her, triggering an intense orgasm so that her body gripped and tightened, milking his until he collapsed over her, spent and momentarily sated.

They were locked together, their hearts hammering loudly, their scents mingling, both so sensitive they were afraid to move. Brandt kissed the corner of her mouth, her chin, the tip of her breast. “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Reluctantly he rolled his weight off of her. His hands tangled in her hair possessively.

“You know you didn’t hurt me,” she assured him. She didn’t think her body would ever belong to her again. “It’s hot in here. Did the temperature shoot up when we weren’t looking?”

He laughed softly, deep in his throat. “We had other things on our minds.” He sat up, reached past her. His naked body was flexible, a miracle of movement.

“What are you doing?” Maggie asked drowsily. She rolled over onto her stomach and lifted her head to watch him. There was something very intimate about the dark night enfolding them in its cloak, yet they could see each other very clearly. She watched him lift the insulated bucket of ice to his mouth. Fascinated, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch his throat work as he swallowed the ice-cold liquid.

He was so sexy, the simple act took her breath away. Just drinking water. And how had he managed to get her to trust him the way she did? She trusted everything he said with an instinct, a knowledge, that he was telling her the truth. Or maybe she just wanted him, burned for him, and nothing else mattered.

Brandt looked at her over the bucket, his eyes so gold they glittered. A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth, revealed his teeth. Catlike. Wild. Primitive.

Maggie had no idea of the picture she presented, thoroughly loved, thoroughly sensual. The tips of her breasts swayed slightly as she moved, and the smooth rounded curves of her buttocks quivered, drawing his attention. She had a beautiful bottom. Already his body was stirring. He felt the familiar tightness.

Plucking a piece of ice from the bucket, he held it up. “I think I have a way to cool you off.”

Her eyes widened. She looked at him warily. “I don’t like that wicked look in your eyes.”

He lifted her hair and rubbed the ice over her nape, felt her shiver. At once her nipples tightened. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” He traced her spine in a slow deliberate caress, lazily watched the heat of her skin melt the small piece, leaving behind a trail of water. He bent forward to lap at her skin, catching the little beads, savoring the liquid.

Maggie let her head fall on the mattress and closed her eyes. Her body was completely relaxed, pliant under Brandt’s hands. His heart swelled, knowing she was his, that she belonged in his home, in his bed. He would wake up and find her there. He could touch her body, make love to her when and where they wanted. And he wanted.

The next piece of ice made lazy patterns in the small of her back. The water melted and pooled into the two dimples there. Brandt sipped it as if it were the finest champagne. He found a larger piece to rub along the crease of her buttocks, so that the icy drips trickled to cool the heat at her core. To mingle with his cream and soothe any soreness. He bent his head to nip her gently on her left cheek. “Are you sore?” He pressed kisses into the two dimples, his hand finding her wet entrance.

“I’m sleeping,” she lied, too lazy to move, but she pushed back against his palm.

He removed it, disappointing her, but then it was back, his fingers probing deeply. Maggie nearly came up off the bed as the piece of ice met the fiery heat of her core. “You devil! What are you doing?” She could feel the ice-cold water melting, trickling deep inside her body. The sensation was intriguing.

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