Turbulent Sea

by Christine Feehan

  He was through being the gentleman and protector; he was going to stake his claim in no uncertain terms, because if he didn't--he would go quietly insane. His body was already so sensitive he couldn't stand the painful press of fabric against his skin for even one more moment. With one hand he tore his shirt over his head, then he went around to every window and slid the privacy screens in place, signaling to everyone that Joley was sleeping and to leave her alone should they stop. He took the precaution of locking the door to the outside as well as the one to the driver's compartment because he wasn't going to allow any interruptions. He left one dim light on because he had to see her face, watch her emotion as he took possession of her.

  He shed his jeans, grateful for the cool air on his hot body. His erection was fierce, thick and painful, a reminder of the months of long, sleepless nights when he'd lain in a cold bed and thought of her, his hand on his shaft and emptiness surrounding him. Nothing sated his need for her, no matter how-many times he relieved himself or how many cold showers he took. One thought of her, the sound of her voice, her music, a glimpse of her brought the painful lust roaring back stronger than ever.

  Joley. Just Joley. She was the sexiest woman he'd ever encountered, and he'd met many trained in the art of driving men wild. Joley needed no such training. She was naturally sensual with her curvy body, her husky voice and the fluid, feminine grace with which she moved. He bent his head to hers, unable to resist that full, beautiful mouth. He'd had a lot of fantasies about her mouth, warm and velvet soft and so perfect it could stop a man's heart.

  He wasn't feeling gentle at all, he was feeling animalistic and in desperate need of taking her. He could hear his music now, not at all soft and bluesy, but wild and dominant like a heavy metal band. The pounding pulse of the music matched the way he needed to drive deep into her body. The heavy bass throbbed in his groin, and the drum beat through his veins demanding satisfaction. He caught both wrists as she came awake, stretching her arms above her head and pinning them to the mattress.

  "Kiss me, Joley. Don't think. Just kiss me."

  Beneath him, she froze, her lashes lifting. She looked dazed and drowsy, a little fearful, but she wanted him. He could see instant desire flare in her eyes.

  Joley's breath stilled. For a moment she couldn't think or breathe. Butterflies whirled and danced in her stomach, fluttering their wings until every muscle bunched and tightened in anticipation. Immediately her body responded to his, this one man who would be her downfall if she let him. Desire pulsed hot and wet between her legs. Her entire body vibrated, almost as if humming to his song.

  She was aware instantly that he was naked, and her gaze, of its own accord, shifted to his thick, heavily muscled chest, the bulging muscles in his arms. He was lying on his stomach beside her, and his butt was tight and firm and totally sculpted the way she'd always imagined. Her heart kicked in, and her blood heated, drowning her in desire.

  She heard his song, blending with hers, the wild, intoxicating timbre, roughened with lust. There were more instruments beneath that hammering beat, the soft and tender notes of a flute, a violin moaning, almost pleading--save me--save me--and the saxophone introducing a haunting lonely note, but all that was nearly drowned out by the relentless pounding command of the drums and the crash of cymbals making adamant demands. His song merged with hers, blending and then overtaking hers, the wild strains a fiery, passionate declaration of ownership that swept away her resistance. The combination was heady and enticing, a powerful aphrodisiac she couldn't resist.

  Arousal teased her breasts, danced over her thighs, slid into her stomach to wreak chaos. She stared up at the face only inches from hers. Strong-boned, straight nose, firm mouth, eyes as deep blue as the sea itself, eyes that were too old for his years, held too much knowledge and too much pain--or nothing at all. She inhaled sharply. Right now those blue eyes glittered with arousal--with lust--with the need for her--for the heat and fire she could provide.

  "Kiss me, Joley." His voice was nearly a growl.

  She recognized the command. He wouldn't close that scant inch between them; he was insisting she give herself to him.

  "I'm afraid."

  "I know." His hands framed her face, his body shifting even more to blanket hers. "Kiss me now."

  "If I do this, there's no going back for me. You're asking me to give myself to you, and I won't ever be the same."

  One hand, warm and rough, slid down her throat, over the swell of her breast, moved with infinite slowness over her thin shirt to find the hem. Fingers bunched the material and his fist caressed her stomach, still holding her shirt. "Kiss me."

  Molten liquid pooled low and wicked. Inner muscles rippled and heated. His voice was implacable. Imperative. Commanding. The sound sent a shiver down her spine, teased her nipples into hard pebbles. She took a ragged breath. She was so susceptible to him.

  "Ilya." His name came out a raspy whisper. A plea to save her from herself.

  His head lowered, his silky hair brushing over her skin like caressing fingers. His lips brushed over her neck just below her ear, tongue licking wickedly, teeth scraping, sending her nerve endings into shock. He lifted his head again, his gaze, hot and hungry, colliding with her desperate one. "Kiss me, Joley. Stop running and kiss me."

  Heat radiated from his body. His need for her surrounded her, enclosed her in raw sexual hunger. His song crashed around her, demanding her compliance, terrifying her even as it seduced her. Her womb contracted. Her obsession for him stole her breath. She knew what he was asking--no--demanding. He wanted surrender--complete surrender.

  She touched his lips, tracing the firm, warm curves. "Do you know what you're asking of me? Do you really know who I am?" She was really asking if she was safe, but she could see by his expression he wouldn't let her get away with that. He insisted on blind trust.

  "Damn it, Joley. Fucking kiss me now."

  His voice was rough, agonized, almost a growl, but so sensual Joley felt a spasm in her deepest core. She cried out, a gasping plea, tormented with hunger for him. It seemed as if she'd needed him for so long she couldn't think of anything else but having him buried inside her. His hand slid down the slope of her belly, sending each muscle curling into a tight ball of desire. In desperation she closed that small distance, her mouth finding his, arms circling his neck, fists bunched in his hair, holding on as if to a life preserver.

  Their tongues twined and danced, hot licks, desperate frenzied kisses, devouring one another, feeding on each other's passion. He kissed her as though his very life, his very survival depended on it. He kissed her as if he could never get enough of her or the taste of her.

  He shifted again, throwing the cover from the bed onto the floor, his mouth never leaving hers, caging her with his body. She felt his heavy erection, thick and hard, pressed tight against her thigh, and another needy moan escaped.

  Her head fell back as his mouth moved across her chin and down her throat, teeth taking small nips as if he wanted to take a bite out of her, his tongue easing each sting. His lips went to the neckline of her thin tee, and he frowned, lifting his head for a minute to look down at the cloth covering her heaving breasts. He simply caught at it with one hand and jerked hard, ripping the material from her body and tossing it aside. Her whole body clenched, her temperature shooting up at his display of impatience.

  "Mine," he growled and lowered his head to feast on the swollen, aching mounds.

  The harsh sound of his voice sent a ripple of fire shooting through her veins, nearly sending her over the edge, her body pulsing with desire, the muscles of her silken sheath clenching hard. His mouth was fiery hot, closing over her nipple, suckling strongly. Joley shivered as sensations poured through her.

  She was terrified he had read her mind and would take her down a seductive path from which she could never return, yet she couldn't stop, couldn't find the will to resist his dark seduction. His body was hard and hot, spreading fire through her, sending electrical currents sizzl
ing through her veins. His mouth was rough, sensuous; his lips pulled at her breast, sending lightning to her thighs and melting her inner flesh. His hands were even rougher than his mouth, teasing and pulling at her nipples, cupping the full mounds possessively. His teeth scraped and taunted, his tongue stroking each nipple with quick hot flicks that drove the breath from her body.

  His hands slid down her body, shaping her ribs, her waist, sliding beneath the waistband of her thin cotton pants to strip them from her, leaving her exposed to his hot, hungry gaze. He stared down at her body, the flushed breasts, the tucked in waist and flared hips, her thighs slightly parted to give him a glimpse of the treasure waiting, already damp with need.

  He bent his head to her stomach, finding her sexy little navel, blazing a trail of fiery little bites all the way to the intriguing curls at the junction of her legs.

  Joley's head tossed on the pillow and she cried out again, a soft whimper as she tried to make sense of the fire building relentlessly. She'd never experienced such a clawing need in her body, so much pleasure that it bordered on pain. She needed a moment, needed to slow down and get control.

  Ilya refused to give her the time. He took her over, driving her out of her comfort zone, pushing her beyond anything she'd ever imagined--even in her darkest erotic fantasies. Her skin was hypersensitive, her inner body pulsing with a tormented need.

  His hands swept her thighs open for him, one leg sliding between hers, his arms pinning her hips beneath him, locking her in place as he lifted his head. His blue gaze held stark, raw hunger, ravenous lust and absolute command. "Mine." His tone was raspy and harsh, a wild, arrogant Cossack claiming ownership.

  She tried to catch his hair, to stop him. She needed to breathe. To control herself, control the lust crawling through her body and taking over her mind. Ilya ignored the fist jerking his hair and her thrashing body. His mouth ruthlessly covered the hot, sweet core of her, tongue plunging deep, finding her most sensitive spot and flicking hard, over and over. She tried to scream as an orgasm ripped through her, but no sound emerged. She nearly came off the bed in spite of his arms restraining her. His mouth only continued the assault, burning her from the inside out between the suckling and the hot flicks of his tongue.

  The more she fought, the firmer he locked her in place, his arms enormously strong, his mouth consuming her, the sensation shattering, rocking her with its intensity. She couldn't catch her breath; her nerve endings were so tight and sensitive she thought she might die. The music was pounding through her veins, thundering in her ears, in her hammering heart, but most of all in her feminine channel, beating too hard and fast, but the crescendo would not come. The inferno built and built. She shook her head back and forth on the pillow, fingernails digging into his back as she tried to either pull him closer or push him away.

  He was relentless, taking his pleasure, insisting on her going with him as high as he wanted to take her. He plunged his tongue deep, took the slick, wet offering and reveled in his ability to send her into the next level of sensual sensation. Blood pounded through the muscles of her sheath, tightening, contracting, until she nearly sobbed as his mouth drove her ever higher, and she could feel her body straining for another release. His music vibrated through her, danced against her clit, flinging her hard into another orgasm.

  He rose above her like the warrior he was, his eyes fierce and filled with an insatiable lust. He jerked her thighs apart, his hands rough and insistent. She saw him then, savagely aroused, thick and hard and far too intimidating. He pushed the head of his erection against her tight sheath and stilled, holding her gaze with his.

  "You're mine. Say it, Joley. Only mine. I want to hear you say it."

  He moved, a short thrust that had her biting off a scream as he pushed in a little deeper, stretching her. The burning need increased until she wanted to sob, terrified she'd never be free of it. She had known all along he was the one who would know, who would see beneath her skin, down to her very core, and once he uncovered her need for this--this taking her beyond anything she'd ever known--she'd be lost--and she was. She'd never be free of him. She was his, body and soul, locked together now by something beyond her, and it was terrifying.

  She shook her head, tears swimming in her eyes.

  Ilya caught her hands, laced his fingers through hers and bent over her, pressing her hands to the mattress, rocking with another short thrust of his hips, stretching her again as he sunk deeper. "Look at me, Joley. Right now. Look at me."

  She couldn't look away. She was trapped in his heat. In his lust. His needs. She was trapped by his absolute will and his expertise. He played her body like a maestro, his sensuality beyond her ability to resist. She blinked at the tears stinging her eyes, and he leaned forward and took them with a slow caress of his tongue. Instantly her womb spasmed, convulsed, sending streaks of fire racing through her, her muscles clamping tightly around him.

  "Say you belong to me, Joley." He repeated each word in a rough, harsh voice, his hands holding hers tightly. "Say you're mine."

  "Damn you," she hissed. "You want everything."

  He bent forward again, rocking his hips, forcing another inch, stretching her relentlessly, burning with her. "Everything you are is mine."

  "Then you're mine," she said in desperation. "Then you belong to me."

  "With everything I am," he agreed and slammed his body home.

  He took her breath away, his body driving through her tight inner muscles, spreading fire as she arched into him, her body still fighting for more, or trying to pull away from him as she writhed under him, impaled now and gasping for breath.

  "Damn, Joley, you're so tight." His voice was a harsh gasp above her head.

  Around them, the music crashed and throbbed and sent electrical currents sizzling through her veins. In some secret place in her mind, she had wanted this, a man who knew exactly what he wanted and took it, a man who dared to push her further than she'd ever been, but reality was different than imagination, and she was terrified she'd never be able to pull herself back together and be Joley. Just Joley.

  Ilya easily controlled her body with his own, throwing back his head and losing himself in the heat and fire. He had been born for this moment, trained for this moment, learning from a young age to wield sex like a weapon, to dominate completely without losing himself, to exhibit absolute, utter mastery over a woman. He could ride a partner for hours, have a woman begging and pleading to tell him anything he wanted to know, but nothing in his experience had prepared him for mixing expertise with his own needs, desires and emotions, and the woman who owned him body and soul. He was lost in the absolute carnal pleasure of their bodies.

  He set a harsh, demanding tempo, rocking her with streaks of fire. Her silken sheath was tight, strangling him, pulsing and throbbing, squeezing him as he pistoned again and again, hard thrusts that buried him to the hilt. Each time her muscles clamped down and sensations tore through his body, the pleasure burst through him, far more than he'd ever experienced. His strokes became harder, deeper, more rhythmic as she went wild beneath him. Her head tossed on the pillow, her hips arching into him, muscles tightening as the pressure built and built with no relief. She fought the torturous erotic pleasure, sobbing his name.

  His hands clamped down on her thighs, holding them apart, shifting her so that she felt the caress of steel stroking over her sensitive knot of nerves already on fire. The more she fought, the higher he took her, biting back a growl, his teeth bared as he drove himself into her, claiming her, riding her, taking her with him into another sensual dimension.

  "Stay with me, Joley," he rasped. "Stop fighting it."

  "I can't," she gasped.

  "You will," he decreed.

  Joley couldn't stop the shudders wracking her body, or the involuntary raking at his back with her nails. She was on fire as he rode between her thighs. He felt like velvet-encased steel, driving through tight, stretched muscle already inflamed and in need of release, but the erotic torture
didn't end, didn't stop, and she couldn't stand it. The fierce thrusting of his hips, the thick cock driving deep into her, stretching and burning, sending streaks of lightning flashing through her entire body, the tension inside coiling tighter and tighter as she gasped and writhed beneath him was too much. Fear skated through the haze of lust and need, heightening the sensations even more. The sounds of his fierce possession and her pleas added to the crashing music, rising to a crescendo as the firestorm swept over them, engulfing them completely.

  Her breath ceased, music thundered in her ears, the room darkened around her, and colors danced behind her eyes as her body tightened unmercifully around his thick erection. And then it came. Wave after wave, multiple orgasms streaking through her womb, blazing through her stomach and breasts, burning her from the inside out, endless, vicious, without mercy, the sensation so intense she wasn't certain if it was pleasure or pain.

  The fierce milking of his shaft by her fiery, slick sheath was too much for Ilya. The sensation started in his toes, ran up the column of his thighs, tightened in his balls and burned in his belly. He lost all control for this first time in his life, pouring himself into her, jet after jet of hot semen, as her body gripped him with erotic pleasure. He collapsed over her, breathing roughly, her body pulsing around his.

  Joley lay under him, limp, her breathing ragged. His body shuddered from the explosive release. Never in his life had it ever been like that. Her slick, wet heat, burning around his shaft, the tight grasp of her body on his, the torturous brutal release was more pleasure than he'd ever known.

  Joley had made him come alive, turning a trained bodily function, an expertise, into a secret paradise of sensation. Before her, sex, like everything else about him, had been a weapon to use, a tool for survival, but she had given him an immeasurable gift. She had surrendered herself to him, entrusted her body, her mind, all that she was to him and in doing so had staked her own claim on him.

  "I don't think I'm alive anymore," Joley whispered. "I think you killed me."