Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

Tempest found her hands clutching his wild mane of hair, hanging on for dear life as the firestorm raged around them, through them. His hands cupped her full breasts, slid along her ribs to her belly, found the triangle of curls below, and caressed her thighs. Everywhere he touched he left flames behind, on her skin, inside her body, until she wanted to scream for relief.

She thought to be afraid of his enormous strength, but that thought, too, was swept away on a tidal wave of passion as his palm pressed into her heat. She made a single sound, a low moan in her throat that ignited the fuse smoldering in him. Darius’s mouth left hers for the first time, trailing fire down her neck to the thrusting tip of her breast.

She cried out, arching into him, nearly exploding as his fingers found her tight, hot sheath and his mouth pulled strongly, his teeth scraping and teasing the swell of her breast. His knee nudged hers apart even as his tongue lapped at the valley between her breasts. He was above her, his face harsh yet sensual, his eyes black, burning coals.

It was happening too fast. Way out of control. Tempest felt him, thick and aggressive, pressing into her. He seemed far too large for her to accommodate. Trapped beneath his body, she couldn’t move, almost couldn’t breathe. His teeth scraped the swell of her left breast, an erotic enticement that set her arching toward his mouth. Yet fear beat at her as he surged forward, his body pinning hers, invading hers, taking possession as if he had every right to her. She felt as if he was invading her soul, thrusting so deeply within her that she would never get him out. Instantly she stiffened, whimpering into his shoulder. She felt his teeth piercing her breast, spreading white-hot heat, sinking possessively into her skin as his body buried itself in hers.

His mind pushed into hers, breaking through every barrier until they were completely one. She felt the heat of her own skin, the exquisite ecstasy of her tight, hot, velvet sheath gripping him, releasing, sliding over him, her blood, hot with life and light, flowing into him, the joy and searing flames, his insatiable hunger and terrible need. She saw the erotic images in his head, the things he would do to her, the things he wanted her to do to him. She saw his iron will, his implacable resolve, his ruthlessness, his merciless, predatory nature. He saw her fears, her modesty, her blind faith in him, her need to run away. He felt the slight discomfort of her body at his thickness and instantly changed his position to accommodate her. He fed her own passion with his, building the fire between them until it raged out of control.

Darius was everywhere she was. In her body, in her mind, in her heart and soul. They shared the same blood. And, God help her, she could deny him nothing. Not when he was rising above her, surging hotly into her, his body slick with sweat, his mouth in a frenzy of hunger and need. It was the most erotic thing she had ever encountered. Tempest didn’t care if she ever returned to herself. She was flying, soaring, sating his terrible hunger for the first time in all his centuries of living.

The sense of power that gave her was incredible. She was in his mind, knew she was giving him sweet agony, molten fire. Knew it raged in him as it did in her. She surrendered to him completely, holding nothing back, her fingernails in his back, her soft cries, pleas for more, in his ear. She wanted this with him, wanted to give him this exquisite torment.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she cradled his head, her body moving with his, faster and harder until she was rippling with pleasure, exploding, fragmenting until he caught her safely in his arms. He lapped his tongue over the pinpricks in her skin, closing the tiny wound his fangs had left. His body clenched and raged for release, burning with a terrible need only she could fill. He was in her mind, and he took control, commanding her to do as he bid, not allowing her to think or know what he was asking.