Raven allowed his words and the hot strength of his possession to calm her. Her body seemed to melt around his. He took them higher, bending his head to lap at her nipple, his hands cupping her small bottom possessively. She threw back her head, her hair flowing around them, over them, brushing their bare skin so that their flesh burned. She felt as if she truly was where she belonged. She felt wild and free. She felt a part of him, his other half. There could be no other than this man who was so hungry for her. Who needed her so desperately, who knew her own kind of lonely existence.
He moved harder, deeper, turning so that he could lay her half across the end of the bed, so he could drive them closer and closer to the edge. He felt her body ripple, tighten, drag at his, once, twice. She cried out with pleasure, felt as if her body was dissolving into his. There was so much pleasure, wave after wave until Raven thought she couldn’t possibly stand any more.
He bent his dark head to her slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. His body continued to bury itself in hers, his dark eyes holding her blue ones captive. Mesmerizing, pleading, so in need. Raven arched her body toward him, thrusting her breasts invitingly, offering to assuage his burning hunger.
Mikhail’s soft growl of satisfaction rumbled in his throat, sent a thrill of excitement leaping in her blood. His body was aggressive now, his hands lifting her small hips for better access. She felt the brush of his lips so gently over her breast, her heart. His tongue slid over her skin, over his mark on her, erotic and warm. He surged into her powerfully, filling her, stretching her. He sank his teeth into soft flesh.
Raven cried out as white-hot heat seared her breast. She cradled Mikhail’s head to her, feeling the whirlwind of emotions storming through him as the fire in him built and built, higher and higher, until she thought they would both go up in flames. His mouth moved over her skin, devouring her as he took her, consuming them both. The feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced, erotic and burning.
She could hear herself screaming his name in joy, in wild abandon, her nails digging into his back. She had a primitive desire to find the heavy muscle over his breast with her mouth. They were exploding together, disintegrating, flying to the sun. Mikhail lifted his head to give a throaty growl, dipped his head to feed more.
He was careful this time, just taking enough for an exchange. His body was still locked with hers. He gave one last flick of his tongue to close the wound, heal even the smallest of pinpricks. Mikhail studied her face. Pale. Drowsy. He uttered his command, his body hard and eager at the idea of what he was doing.
Her body was still rippling with life, accepting his long, possessive strokes. He made the slash across his chest, pressed her soft mouth to his burning skin. It was ecstasy, his body convulsing almost painfully. The beast in him threw back its head and roared with pleasure, contentment, the terrible hunger temporarily assuaged.
He cupped the back of her head in his large hand, held her to him, stroking her throat, savoring the feel of her feeding. It was pure eroticism, pure beauty. He spoke softly, reluctantly, when he was certain she had taken enough for an exchange, enough to replenish what he had taken. He caressed the length of her hair, allowed her to surface.
She blinked up at him, a frown creasing her forehead. “You did it again.” She rested her head tiredly against the quilt. “Either that, or every time we get carried away I’m going to faint.” She tasted a faint coppery taste in her mouth.
Before she had a chance to identify what it was, Mikhail kissed her, his tongue licking along her teeth, the roof of her mouth, probing, exploring, dancing with hers. Very slowly he eased from her body, his hands caressing her soft skin.