Dark Challenge. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 5

Julian was driving her crazy with his lazy, slow-handed exploration. His palm was moving deliberately over every inch of her body, finding every curve, memorizing every hollow. Desari was already restless again, but when she would have caught his hips with demanding hands, he shook his head, his golden hair brushing her skin, inflaming her even more.

“I want to know every inch of you, cara mia,” he whispered, sliding his thick heat out of her.

“Julian!” Desari’s dark eyes censured him, her slender hips moving on the quilt beneath him, determined to entice him back to her. Just the feel of him, hard and hot, against her thigh was erotic. She wanted him.

His hands simply caught at her and turned her over so that his lips could follow the flawless curve of her back. He took his time, kissing the nape of her neck, her shoulders, kissing his way down her spine. All the while his thighs trapped her beneath him, his body swelling, pushing against her buttocks, the tip of him so hot she was squirming against him, needing him.

Julian was determined not to allow anything to shatter his tenuous control. He would know her body as well as his own, know every secret point that could arouse her, every curve and hollow that ached for his touch. His teeth found the rounded muscle of her buttocks, felt her jump beneath his caressing hands. His palm beneath her found her moist invitation, so hot with urgent need he smiled, satisfied with his knowledge now. He simply lifted her hips and pressed against her waiting entrance, waiting a heartbeat until he had the reaction he craved. Desari pushed back, frantic for his invasion.

He caught her hips and surged forward, penetrating deeply, burying himself in that tight, wet, velvet-soft sheath that fit him so perfectly, so uniquely. The feel of it was unlike anything he had ever experienced in his long centuries of existence. He found his hands moving over her beautiful body, cupping her breasts, caressing her bottom, his mouth tasting her back. Her long ebony hair cascaded in waves to pool on the quilt around her, and it was a sight he knew he would never forget. And then the fire took hold, so hot, so fast, he found himself gripping her hips and plunging into her, harder and faster and deeper until the fiery friction was poised on the knife edge between pleasure and pain. Her body wound tighter and tighter, and she cried out to him for release. He wanted to stay, poised forever on that edge, her soft body burning with his, her mind sharing the ecstasy of it all. The savage demands of his race erupted to the surface, and he bent over her smaller body, completely dominant, his teeth finding her shoulder to pin her submissively in place.

Desari allowed it, feeling the compulsion riding him so hard. There was a desperate need in him she could nearly touch, nearly see, hidden deep but swirling close to the surface, an elusive shadow she couldn’t quite catch. Then she lost her train of thought completely as his body swelled even more in hers, so thick and hard he was driving out all sanity, and they exploded together into time and space. Colors burst around them like the most wondrous fireworks imaginable. There was no room for air in their lungs.

Julian would have collapsed on top of her, but he was far too conscious of how delicate she was. He rolled to one side, taking her with him because he couldn’t tolerate the slightest separation. He had seen as much of her mind as she had seen of his. She thought, incorrectly, that she would now go back to her family and meet with him every now and then. Or, worse, that he would leave her because she refused to go off with him. His arm was heavy over her narrow rib cage; his thigh held her still. Lazily his hand cupped her breast, his thumb feathering gently, first over her nipple, then tracing the curving fullness.

Desari felt her body clench in reaction. It would always be that way. She knew it. Julian Savage had some dominion over her body, some perfect union with her no one else could ever match. She had read about sex, knew every detail, every position, every intriguing intimacy that could possibly be shared. Yet her body had never once felt desire. It was as if that part of her had been dead. She simply assumed most Carpathian women did not have urges and desires like human women. But her body had been waiting for this one man. Her other half.