He tugged at her hair, forced her head away from him, observed through half-closed eyes, hungry and watchful while she closed the pinpricks, her tongue sending flames dancing over his heated body. Mikhail kissed her with every ounce of male dominance he possessed. His mouth burned over her throat, rested on her frantic pulse. His hands tightened on her small hips. His body rested in the hot feminine mystery of hers. He waited.
She turned her head, offered her throat. “Take what is yours, Mikhail. Take what you require.” She murmured the words breathlessly in an agony of anticipation and need. She was trembling with suspense, with the craving of Carpathian erotic hunger.
As his hips thrust powerfully forward, his teeth sank deep. She cried out, wound her arms around him, arching up as he drank his fill, as his body drove wildly into hers, staking his claim, his right, taking them beyond the boundaries of the earth. Her body gripped his tightly, insistently. Mikhail abandoned any pretense of control and took her as he wanted, driving on and on until she was so wild and hot and crying for him, until her little keening whimpers and the sweet spice of her blood took his raging body over the edge. He emptied himself into her, for the first time in his life feeling totally sated, totally content. They lay joined, their hearts pounding, their lungs laboring, little aftershocks rippling and rocking them. Mikhail rolled them over so his hard length was cushioning her slender body. Her breasts were soft and warm nestled in the tangle of hair veeing down to his stomach. Her head was pillowed on his chest.
Mikhail stroked her hair, letting his overwhelming love for her spill out and surround her. He sensed how fragile the moment was and didn’t trust the inadequacy of words. His mind was a warm, safe haven of love and he shared it willingly.
The intense pleasure blocked out reality for a long while. Raven could only revel in her body’s powerful reaction. Every tiny cell was alive and shrieking in joy. It didn’t seem possible that she could experience such rapture.
She moved a slow hand to push her hair aside. The small movement sent her muscles clenching around him. Mikhail. Who was this man who had so easily taken over her life and her body? Raven lifted her head and studied his face. So handsome. So dark and mysterious. His eyes held so many secrets; his mouth was so sensual, it took her breath away.
“Tell me what I’ve done, Mikhail.”
His eyes were fathomless, watchful. “You have given your life into my care. Rest assured, little one, you are safe in my hands.”
She touched the tip of her tongue to her suddenly dry lips. Her heart pounded in alarm at the enormity of her decision. She had the taste of him in her mouth, the smell of him on her body, his seed trickling along her leg, and they were still locked together, her body clenching sensuously, hotly, around his.
“What do I taste like?” His voice was low, compelling. It whispered against her skin like the brush of fingers. The brush of fantasy.
She closed her eyes tightly, like a child wanting to shut him out. “Mikhail.” Her body rippled, tightened at the sound of his voice, at the erotic question he whispered.
He eased out of her, retained his hold so he could cradle her close as he slid back into the foaming pool. “Tell me, Raven.” He kissed her throat, tiny little kisses, each as potent as wine.
Her arm wound around his neck, her fingers finding his thick mane of hair. “You taste like the forest, wild and untamed and so erotic you make me crazy.” The admission broke from her like the confession of a grave sin.
The bubbles fizzed and burst against their sensitized skin, foamed on their most intimate parts. Mikhail leaned back, taking their weight, securing her on his lap. Her rounded bottom brushed against him, sent sweet fire streaking through their blood. “You taste like sweet, hot spice, addictive and so sensual.” His teeth grazed the nape of her neck, sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.