Water Bound

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Water Bound Page 25

by Christine Feehan


  I've got you, luybimaya moya, you're safe with me. He answered with the intimacy of telepathy. He needed to be in her head with the same desperate need his body felt for hers.

  She swallowed hard and nodded, her gaze never leaving his. He slid his finger into her slick, welcoming heat. Her hips bucked and her lashes trembled, her lips parting in a startled gasp. She went still, her eyes swallowing her face.

  "I'm not hurting you:" He made it a statement. She looked frightened, but her body responded with a flood of liquid honey.

  She frowned and he couldn't help himself, he leaned down to kiss her again, robbing her of what breath she had left. His finger began to circle her sensitive bud, gently, getting her used to the sensation. She cried out into his mouth, a strangled gasp of pleasure. He smiled as he lifted his head to look once again into her eyes.

  "Tell me."

  "More. I want more."

  He nipped her chin with his teeth. / intend to enjoy myself as I get to know every inch of you. I've been waiting to see if you taste as good as I think you do. He was burning up, need clawing at him with greedy hunger. His cock lay pressed against her thigh, raging at him with a fierce, almost brutal desire.

  Her hands loosened in his hair and moved to his shoulders, a test maybe, to see if he liked her touch. He craved her hands--and mouth--on him and he let her see it with the images in his head, with the pleasure in his eyes.

  More. That single word was all he could articulate, even in his head. His control was slipping fast, the intensity of his need shredding his discipline. He wanted it gone, wanted this, a ferocious love that would consume the two of them, that would burn hot and long and melt them together.

  Rikki traced the muscles in his back, touching scars here and there, lingering for a moment to puzzle out what caused each of them. His face was a mask of sensuality, his eyes were intensely blue and filled with a dark lust that thrilled her.

  She moved against him, a slow sensuous ripple, her body sliding enticingly against his. Surprise flared in his eyes, and he dropped his head, licking along her breasts and down her ribs, exploring with teeth and tongue and lips. Her seeking fingers stroked near the hard length of his heavy erection as it lay against her thigh. She felt the breath slam out of his body, felt the tremor that ran through him.

  Every single place his teeth nipped or his tongue rasped sent hot licks of arousal sizzling through her skin to her most feminine core. Her temperature soared and she couldn't stop tossing back and forth on the bed or writhing under his assault. It felt so good it bordered on pain, but in a good way. It was shocking and exciting.

  His hands spread her thighs and he bent his head, his teeth sinking into her inner thigh. She cried out, a soft plea for more as heat poured into her body.

  His hot breath pulsed over the junction of her legs, nearly driving her wild with need. "I lay next to you night after night thinking about this, dreaming about it." The dark love in his blue gaze shocked her almost as much as what he was doing.

  His hands lifted her hips as he lowered his head and he drank. Rikki heard herself scream--the pleasure swamped her, rocking her into a fevered insanity. Her fingers clutched his shoulders, desperate to anchor herself with something solid. Her head tossed back and forth on the pillow, and she was helpless to stop it as wave after wave of sensation rushed over her. Greedy for her taste, he licked and sucked, making no apologies, taking his time, using his tongue to penetrate first shallow and then deep. Tears burned behind her eyes and there was little air in her lungs, but she didn't want him to stop.

  Fear clawed at her as she recognized that he was consuming her with his lust, binding them in such a way that neither would ever be free. It didn't matter. Fear didn't matter, only the spiral winding tighter and tighter deep inside her, threatening her very sanity, mattered. She heard another sob, knew it was her, and she pressed herself hard against him as his tongue stabbed deep, driving her to the very brink, but not tipping her over the edge.

  Lev! It was the third time she had cried out his name, and this time she was pleading.

  The spiral continued outward, bunching her stomach muscles, tightening her thighs, wrapping her in feverish arousal until she was tossing under him, terrified of losing herself, terrified he might stop and she'd never know where he was taking her.

  Patience, lubov moya, we have all night and I want to savor you.

  She closed her eyes as he licked and sucked and drove her higher and higher, taking her to the very edge of sanity before easing her back each time.

  I want you ready for me.

  I am ready for you. In another minute she was going to start begging and she didn't even care. Her fingers found his hair and tugged, trying to bring him up and over the top of her. Inside me, now.

  His laughter was low and amused, a purr of male satisfaction. You're a demanding little thing, aren't you?

  "You have no idea," she murmured aloud.

  She couldn't stop her writhing, her head tossing or her hips bucking. His fingers moved in her and she cried out again--her body was on the brink of a great discovery but unable to reach it. She heard her own moan, shocking her, the sound pleading and desperate. His thumb stroked and caressed her most sensitive bud and she arched against him, shuddering with pleasure.

  "Please," she whispered, her voice strained. "Please, Lev."

  Lev lifted his head to look at her, at her dazed expression. Her eyes were glazed, shocked, filled with anticipation and trepidation. There was no way to hang on to his fragile control. One look at her face and he was lost.

  He knelt between her legs and dragged her slight body to him, spreading her legs around him as he lifted her hips and pressed the throbbing head of his heavy erection against her entrance. Every nerve ending he had seemed to be pressing into that fiery heat. She was tight, a velvet, scorching-hot sheath that, as he entered, inch by slow inch, barely allowed his invasion. He gasped, fire streaking into his belly and down his thighs.

  He was an expert in sex, but he was not prepared for the assault on his own senses. It had never happened before. He was too disciplined to lose himself in a woman's body. His life was all about survival, not pleasure, and certainly not about loving a woman. And, God help him, he was loving her with every breath in his body.

  He felt fire pouring over his skin as he penetrated deep into her body, joining them together. He was thick and she was tight and the feeling was exquisite. He heard her breath hiss out in a long, ragged rush, and her muscles clenched tight around him. The small movement nearly cost him his last thread of control.

  "Don't move, laskovaya moya," he cautioned, holding still, waiting for her body to adjust so he could bury himself deeper. "You can't move yet."

  She was beyond listening, head tossing on the pillow, body writhing in spite of his hands controlling her hips. She was pushing herself onto him, so that he felt as if he were moving through petals as they opened for him. She was so tight, and her muscles continually clenched around him with every small movement of her body, sending streaks of fire racing to the center of his groin.

  He couldn't help himself. Rearing back, he plunged into her over and over, dragging his thick cock across her most sensitive bundle of nerves. He wasn't certain he could survive the pleasure rushing through him. He drove deep, bumping the scalding heat of her cervix. He groaned as she tightened around the length of his heavy erection, squeezing and stroking with velvet-soft muscles. She might not have a tremendous amount of experience, but she was naturally sensual and every movement of her body sent him careening closer and closer to the edge. For a man who believed discipline was everything, it was shocking to be so out of control.

  She chanted his name repeatedly, and for him it was pure music, like the rain was for her. Her moans and small little strangled sounds filled him with a fierce protective-ness, a pure male satisfaction that added to his joy. He reveled in his ability to heighten her pleasure with the way he moved. Her head tossed on the pillow, her face was flushed and her
eyes dazed. She moaned, a long, low sound that resonated through his cock.

  He shifted position, pulling her closer, throwing her legs up and over his arms, wanting better leverage as he set up a fast, hard rhythm, all the time watching her face for signs of discomfort. He couldn't help his own groan as he sheathed himself in her over and over--the heated friction was unbelievable. Her feminine channel was fiery hot, surrounding him like living silk, gripping and clasping, dragging over him so tightly the sizzling fire within him burned hotter and hotter. His balls tightened, the exquisite pleasure was nearly painful. He felt the coiling power wind tighter and tighter, and he knew he was close to his release.

  "Ya tebya lyublyu." He took a breath. "Look at me, lubov moya, I need to see your eyes." He wanted to soar with her, drown in her, merge so tightly, mind and body, that their connection could never be broken.

  Rikki felt the pressure building and building, that same tightness she felt in the ocean when a huge wave was coming. She reached for it, embracing the feeling, equating the sensation with her beloved sea. It started in her toes, a tremendous series of waves rolling over and through her, swelling stronger and stronger until the force was like a riptide rushing through her, building in strength. But it didn't stop. It never stopped.

  She could feel him, the length and girth of him, stretching her, driving deep. Her own body was slick and wet, and the erotic tension stretched until she was afraid she'd drown in it. She couldn't quite catch her breath and she couldn't find relief from that ever-building pressure. It was too powerful. Too out of control for someone like her, the waves increasing in strength, threatening to engulf her. Fear slithered into her mind, riding the surge of passion, so that every raw nerve ending felt each acute sensation separately and then together, swamping her.

  She heard Lev's voice, far off, in her head, calling her in his own language, his voice an anchor. Desperate, she turned her head to look at him, their gazes colliding. It was like free-falling into the sea, all that marvelous blue. There wasn't enough air to breathe, just like under water, but the beauty of his rugged face, his strength, his enduring calm was like the ever-constant ocean, and she managed to hold on to her sanity by clinging to him.

  Stay with me. She pleaded with him. Stay with me.

  You're safe, lubov moya, always safe with me, he assured. Just let go.

  She kept her gaze locked with his and let herself sink into the bliss. Her body clamped down on his like a vise, and the pressure increased until she feared she would implode. She could feel him growing larger, pulsing with heat and fire, heard his hoarse groan and then the ultimate wave started, a tsunami out of control.

  Eyes on his, she surrendered completely, giving herself up to him, letting him sweep her away with him so that there was only the sound of the rain and the rhythmic sound of their bodies coming together. The rogue wave tore through her body, up her legs and through her core, into her stomach and breasts, engulfing her brain, wave after wave of such pleasure she wasn't certain she was entirely sane. Her bones melted, her body turned to liquid and she was floating in the subspace of the sea.

  He never looked away--never blinked--holding her to him through his own violent release. His breathing was ragged, his face strained, but his expression was tender as the waves in her body settled into ripples of sweet pleasure.

  "For the first time in my life, Rikki, I feel like I'm home."

  She lay beneath him, her heart pounding erratically, a little dazed by the actual stunning splendor of an orgasm. So that was what the big fuss was about. She'd wondered why everyone talked about sex and seemed so desperate for it.

  Her legs were still over his arms and he gently allowed them to drop to the mattress. She couldn't move, her energy entirely consumed by the swamping waves, and just that small movement had sent another set of ripples racing through her body.

  "Are you all right?"

  She nodded and reached up to trace her finger over his lips. She was surprised she had the strength to even lift her arm. He eased out of her. "No." The protest burst from her, and she caught his shoulders, holding him to her.

  "I'm right here, Rikki, I'm not going anywhere."

  Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn't going anywhere and this was her home. She couldn't go anywhere. What was she supposed to do? Should she offer him something to eat or drink? Should she get up and shower? She was going to be sore; maybe a bath. Or should she get out of the house altogether? She could sit in her swing, if she could find the energy to get up.

  Shivering, she dropped her hand and clutched at the sheet, frowning. She was going to blow this. It had been so perfect. Absolutely perfect, and she had no clue how people handled the aftermath of making love. She recognized the difference. He'd poured himself into her, body and soul, given her a priceless gift, and she was liable to inadvertently throw it back in his face from lack of experience or knowledge.

  Her mind raced round and round, filling with fear. She was going to ruin everything. She was in new territory and it was frightening. Her brain wanted to retreat to familiar places. The rain, maybe, just allow herself to be absorbed by it, but she didn't want to do that to Lev. It was difficult, trying to fight the inclination with her head all over the place and no ability to rein it in.

  Lev frowned down at Rikki, suddenly concerned. He laid his hand over her heart to discover it pounding so hard he was afraid she'd have a heart attack.

  "What's wrong, Rikki?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost tender.

  She shivered and reached beneath the bed for her weighted blanket, her gaze eluding his.

  "Lubov moya, you're moaning. Are you in pain?"

  Her fingers fumbled on the blanket, and he reached over her and found it for her, tucking it around her with care.

  "I'm sorry," she managed.

  "Don't be sorry, Rikki, talk to me. Let me know what's happening." He didn't wait for her to speak, but pressed his left palm against her left palm and thrust into her mind.

  Use your words, Rikki. A woman's voice advised.

  Her mother, and it was a memory that often comforted her. She rocked her body a little, as the memory of her mother holding her tight, putting pressure on her chest when she felt her body was flying apart, surfaced.

  "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

  She sounded so forlorn, his heart twisted, but he waited in silence. She opened her eyes to look at him. The moment her gaze connected with his, he heard her thoughts. That face, rugged and strong and so beautiful. His eyes. As blue as the beloved sea. His expression tender. He felt relieved that she took comfort in his presence and wasn't wishing him gone.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and moved her body with his easy strength, tucking her close to him. "There aren't any rules, here, Rikki."

  Her eyes flared wider and a little gasp escaped. "No. No, there have to be rules. There're always rules. What do I do? I don't know."

  "What did you do before with Daniel?" He didn't want to bring the man's memory into her mind, not after what they shared, but he needed to find a way to comfort her.

  "I left. I got up and left, fast, and went back to my house." She looked around her. "But this is my house and you live here too, and I don't know what to do."

  She sounded so confused and vulnerable that his heart ached for her. "Remember what we promised each other?" he asked. He smoothed tendrils of hair from around her face. "We make our own rules. I say we hold one another and talk until we're both either too tired to stay awake, or we're recovered enough to make love again."

  She looked genuinely shocked but also more than a little interested. "Again?"

  "Doesn't the idea appeal to you?" He slid his hand under the blanket and cupped her breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple, teasing it into a hardened peak.

  She gave him a dark scowl. "Of course the idea appeals to me, but I never read the rules on sex. Is there a certain number of times a day or a week?"

  He smiled at her and bent to take possession of
her mouth. He kissed her long and deep and with enough mastery to keep her tongue dancing with his. He loved how she gave herself up to him. There was no hesitation when he touched her. He nibbled on her lips and took a nip out of her chin before he answered. "Two individuals sharing their life together have sex when they choose. It can be slow and gentle or wild and crazy. But it should be an expression of love. And trust me on this, Rikki. I love you. When I'm touching you, I'm loving you."

  He kissed his way down her throat to the side of her neck. Her pulse fluttered like that of a bird's wing and then began to pound with alarm beneath his lips. He stroked her hair gently, fear sliding into his mind at the thought of what she meant to him. He knew he had committed himself fully to her, to a new life, but he was still just catching glimpses into her world, into her mind.

  She was fragile and vulnerable in ways others weren't, yet amazingly courageous and strong. He knew he never wanted to be without her. And he didn't want to stumble, to upset her without knowing what he was doing.

  "So we can just stay in bed?" Her gaze searched his.

  "That's right, laskovaya moya, we'll stay in bed together. Do you mind if I indulge myself?"

  She gave him that adorable little frown of concentration again. "I don't know what that means."

  "I want to explore what's mine. I like touching you."

  "I didn't think I'd like it," she conceded, "but I do."

  "Do you like touching me?"

  A small little grin teased the corners of her mouth. "I give you a massage almost every night"

  "You've touched me everywhere but my cock, Rikki. Are you afraid to touch me there?"

  Her tongue touched her lower lip. "Maybe. A little. I don't want to hurt you. I could do it wrong, you know."

  "I'm yours, Rikki. My body is yours. I want to feel you touching me. I want your hands and your mouth on me. You'd be giving me the same pleasure I gave you."

  She pushed herself up on one elbow, the blanket slipping down over her breast. "You mean if I touch you ..."

  "Or suckle me," he interrupted.

  "I can make you feel out of control with pleasure?"

  He nodded solemnly. The idea of her fantasy mouth on him was already making him feel a little out of control and his body was already stirring to life at the thought of it. "How did you not know this?" Her fiance couldn't have taken any time with her.

 

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