Dark 18 - Dark Possession

by Christine Feehan

  He tried not to laugh. She clawed for a purchase on his shoulders, her head swiveling left and right, her eyes enormous. He couldn't help it—the laughter spilled out to become a full-blown roar. "I am closing the door."

  "Oh no, you're not." She had her arms around his head, practically blinding him. "And stop laughing. This isn't funny. I'm not getting trapped in a cave, not even for you. Gorgeous can only take you so far."

  The two sides of the boulder ground together with a horrendous jarring, eliciting a screech of fear from her. The torches flickered and danced as if they might go out. She buried both fists in his hair and yanked. "Get us out of here."

  Manolito wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back down so her feet were once again on solid ground. "We do not want light shining through the falls. The idea is to be safe here. We have air. I'll take care of bugs. Trust me, MaryAnn, this is better than a five-star hotel."

  She stared up into his face. A woman could drown in the absolute love in his eyes. She let out her breath and found calm. "Well I want room service then."

  "I intend to give you anything you want."

  The velvet caress in his voice sent a shiver running through her body. "I don't know how you managed to get around all my defenses, Manolito, but you have."

  His slow smile made her heart nearly stop.

  "I cheated. I will probably go to hell if there is such a place, because I fear I do not have the necessary remorse in me for my actions. I stole you, MaryAnn, right out from under the noses of our best hunters."

  She laughed. "You sound like you're boasting."

  He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Maybe just a little. After all, you have to know your caveman can bring home the dinosaur."

  She looked around suspiciously. "You'd better be joking."

  He tucked her hand in his back pocket to lead her down the long, winding tunnel. Torches lined the way, burning brightly and showing her he was keeping his promise—there wasn't a single bug in sight.

  "I've been thinking a lot about this Carpathian-wolf thing we have going," she said, trying not to keep staring at his butt. He had a nice ass.

  His laughter was soft. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

  "What?" She tried to sound innocent.

  "Ass. Butt. However you want to describe that particular portion of your anatomy. Yours is quite nice. I was just thinking how you looked in those red heels. You take my breath away, woman." She did a whole lot more than that. His body hardened and thickened with every step he took. With her mind firmly merged with his, knowing she was thinking along the same lines as he was only heightened the ache.

  He wanted to get her out of her clothes and inspect every single inch of her body to make certain she was all right. And he wasn't going to let her out of his sight again—at least not for a long, long time.

  He swung around and pulled her to him, kissing her hard, his tongue sliding into her mouth to tangle and dance and reclaim her all over again.

  MaryAnn recognized the hint of desperation wrapped in the hunger. She pulled back, smoothing his hair. "What is it?"

  Her voice. The way she effortlessly slipped inside his head, surrounding him with warmth and comfort, enveloping him in love—he felt it now, where it hadn't been before. He didn't know what he'd done to earn it, but he was grateful.

  He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes briefly, inhaling her scent. "They could not kill my physical body in the spirit world, so they tried to kill my soul."

  She felt the involuntary shudder that went through him. "How, Manolito? Tell me how."

  He knew she didn't have a clue that her tone held a hidden compulsion. She wanted to take the pain of those memories away. Her fingers stroked and caressed his hair, slid down to his shoulders and arms, and then back up. Every touch was meant to share, to soothe. His MaryAnn. There was no one else like her. He caught her chin and bent his head to fasten his mouth to hers. She leaned into him, her soft body pliant, fitting him perfectly.

  "Tell me," she whispered.

  He took a breath, fighting the images in his head. He couldn't go there again, couldn't let himself see her being brutalized. She gasped and he knew she saw, too.

  "It's all right, Manolito. It didn't happen. Maxim tried to trick you."

  "He didn't know about the wolf," Manolito said. "Your wolf." He tugged at her curls. "Your wolf saved us all the way around."

  She smiled up at him. "Of course it did. My wolf is totally cool."

  "Your wolf is hot," he corrected and turned her around.

  The room was oval shaped and deep, wide and spacious. Thousands of colored crystals covered the walls. The lights from the torches picked up the many colors, scattering rainbow prisms dancing all around the room. The bed was enormous, a big four-poster of carved exotic wood, with wrought iron embellishing it. She stepped close to it, running her hands over one of the posts. The moment she touched it, she knew he had made it.

  "This is real."

  He nodded. "I like working with my hands. My brothers call it my vice." He led her around to the head of the bed, where she could examine the board there. Two small tables stood on either side, but it was the headboard that intrigued her. There were symbols, hieroglyphics, carved into the wood and several small iron rings embedded across it.

  "What does this say?"

  "It is in an ancient language."

  "And?" she prompted.

  "To bring only pleasure to ainaak sivamet jutta."

  "You'll have to translate that as well."

  "Forever to my heart connected. My love. Wife. Lifemate. You!"

  "You made this bed for me?"

  "It was made for the other half of my soul. Yes. For you. I poured everything I felt for you into this. Every dream. Every fantasy. I tried to think of every way I could pleasure you and make certain I was ready for that. I studied every century's new ideas on sensual pleasure, every culture's ideas, and learned as much as I could."

  The idea was almost frightening. "I'm not exactly all that experienced, Manolito."

  "A mind merge is a wonderful thing," he pointed out. "So are you happy with the accommodations? We have privacy, warmth, and I can assure you, the mattress is the top of the line."

  She had no doubt about that. Manolito didn't do anything halfway. "Okay, it's five-star all right. But where's the service?" she teased.

  He smiled, his sinfully sexy smirk that seemed to burn slow and mean through her entire body. "I have plans to provide service all night. Did I mention I love your shirt?" His hands went to the leather straps circling her neck. The golden leather fell so that the soft jersey drape dipped even lower. It had skimmed the swell of her breasts, but now her nipples peeked out at him. "Oh, yeah, I like this top," he reiterated and bent his head to flick each nipple with his tongue.

  She shivered as his hair slid over her skin, a fall of midnight silk she couldn't help invading with her fingers. "Take your shirt off, Manolito."

  He stepped back, bringing her hands to the buttons. "You take it off for me." His black eyes seemed to scorch her skin.

  MaryAnn slid the buttons aside one at a time, and with each one, her lungs became a little more labored. She used her palms, fingers splayed wide on his chest, to push the shirt aside and up and over his broad shoulders. She tugged it off and let it fall. His skin glowed in the dancing firelight. God, he was beautiful. Built like a man should be built. If that made her shallow, then all right, she'd accept that. She ran her palms over the defined muscles of his chest and then down to his six-pack and narrow waist.

  Above her head, his features were strong—his jaw, his nose, the high cheekbones. He kept his chin up, looking over her head as she leaned in to press kisses along every delineated muscle.

  "You will need to remove my shoes before you can my trousers," he pointed out.

  Her heart jumped and she glanced up at him through her lashes, but he continued to study a spot above her head. She moistened her lips and crouched down
to untie his shoes. She knew he could simply wish his clothes away, but she didn't want him to and maybe he was reading that in her mind. She wanted the sensual discovery of unwrapping his body, a gift, a treasure, just for her.

  He lifted his foot and let her slip off his shoe and sock, her fingers lingering on his skin, stroking his ankle and up his calf, before going to the next shoe. She set them aside and knelt up to reach for the waistband of his trousers. Her jersey top slipped further down to pool around her waist, leaving her breasts exposed. The cool air tightened her nipples even more, but MaryAnn found it erotic to be kneeling in front of him, half-clothed, her breasts spilling out while he stood waiting for her to undress him.

  Manolito's breath caught in his lungs. She was so beautiful, looking up at him that way, so seductive she was lucky he had enough control to give her whatever she wanted, because right now, he wanted to just lift her up and bury himself in her. She wanted to play. He watched the tip of her tongue moisten her full lower lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. She was inches away from the thick bulge in his trousers. He was separated from paradise only by that thin layer of material, already stretched to the maximum.

  He closed his eyes briefly as he felt her fingers dance around the opening and then slowly peel the material aside. His erection sprung out, large and pulsing with need. Her cheek brushed the ultrasensitive head as she drew down his trousers, urging him to step out of them. Her fingers brushed back up his leg, inside his thigh, and then she cupped his balls in her hands. His breath left his lungs in a long rush. His cock jerked as she blew warm air over him, her lips barely brushing the broad tip.

  He caught a fistful of hair and tugged, drawing her head up. "Lie across the bed for me."

  "But I wanted…"

  "I'll give you what you want. Do this for me."

  Slowly, his gaze holding hers, she sank down onto the mattress. He pulled her legs across the bed sideways and gently pressed on her shoulder until she slowly lay back, her head at the very edge of the bed, hair falling toward the floor. Very gently he removed her boots and set them beside his shoes. The feel of his strong hands moving down her calves sent little tingles of excitement racing through her bloodstream. He tugged at her jeans until she lifted her bottom and let him slide them off. She was left draped across the bed with her top pooled around her rib cage.

  Manolito moved around to the side of the bed where her head was, caught her shoulders and tugged until her neck was off the bed and her head was tipped back. Her breasts thrust invitingly into the air, her nipples twin tight peaks begging for his attention.

  MaryAnn's heart jumped. She felt a little vulnerable and exposed in this position. The rainbow lights played lovingly over her body, almost spotlighting her. She could feel the moisture gathering between her legs, and every single nerve ending was alive with anticipation.

  He spread his legs, taking a wide stance as he towered over her. His cock was engorged, thick and long, his balls smooth and tight. "Reach back for me," he instructed, his eyes on her mouth.

  Her body trembled with the sudden desire to please him. To have him. To make him burn for her. He made her feel so sexy and wanted, with just a look, a brush of his gaze. She reached both arms back to cup his balls, to draw her fingernails lightly over his tight sac to memorize the texture and shape. The air left his body in a hiss and she smiled, running her tongue along her teeth. He wanted to be in control, but the brush of her fingertips, the light squeeze of her hands, the small flick of her tongue as she brought him to her mouth told her she had far more power over his body than she'd first thought.

  He murmured something graphic, stepping even closer, his hands finding her long, curly hair. "Slide down a little more now, meu amor. That's it. That's what I want. You can take so much more of me this way."

  Her head was back, throat arched, breasts thrust upward, her body laid out like a feast. To stay in control, he circled the base of his shaft with one hand and pushed the head against her waiting mouth, teasing her lips. Her tongue flicked out, and she did a long, slow lick, curling it at the end, like she was scooping ice cream out of a cone.

  She made him wait. A heartbeat. Two. The world stood still. Time faltered and his heart lurched. Her mouth engulfed him like a silken glove, slid over his cock, her tongue swirling under the head and up over it, teasing and darting around while she suckled.

  His hips jerked. A sound escaped, something suspiciously close to a rough growl. Pleasure burst through him, rushing like a drug through his system. More than pleasure. Love. With his cock in her mouth, he doubted he should have been feeling anything but lust, but maybe love drove his lust for her, because he couldn't imagine another woman more beautiful, or sexier. He couldn't imagine feeling this desire, so intense it was a wild storm crashing through him, for anyone else. His breath exploded out of his lungs. His body shuddered as the fire raced up his spine.

  She ran another long, slow lick up and down the shaft, watching him, watching his reaction. He felt her in his mind, sharing the fire, sharing each wave of sensation she created as she drew him back deeper, her mouth hot and tight.

  His hands bunched in her hair. His hips thrust forward, using his own hand to keep each forward movement short as he filled her mouth. Her tongue was a velvet rasp as she licked the underside, and then she was suckling again, drawing him deeper. Her eyes remained locked on his, tearing at his heart, his soul, as he watched her swallow him, watched raw desire heat her gaze.

  She took him into her mouth, a long, slow draw, keeping her mouth tight, her tongue flat while she applied pressure and then whipped her head up fast, meeting his thrust, taking him deeper, so that streaks of fire spread through his groin.

  MaryAnn felt her body going up in flames. Her breasts were swollen and aching, begging for attention. The junction between her legs throbbed and was drenched with heat. He was making rough sounds of pleasure, each one vibrating through her, so that the walls of her sheath contracted and rippled and begged for mercy. He was tugging at her hair with each thrust as he began to lose his control, pulling her toward him as his thrusts deepened.

  "Harder," he encouraged.

  She felt him swelling and knew by his husky groan he was close. She couldn't move, locked beneath him, his hands controlling her head, the short, tight movements as her mouth moved up and down his shaft. He directed the arch of her neck, allowing her to take more of him.

  "Relax your throat for me," he instructed, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. "Yes. Like that. Like that. Squeeze down." The thrusts were faster now, short and hard, but he used the leverage to go deeper, the tugs on her hair sending pulses of pleasure shooting through her body.

  "You have to stop, sivamet." His voice was hardly his own, so gravelly, on the edge of desperation. Because he couldn't. Because even though he locked her down in the traditional way of his kind, he couldn't leave that hot, moist cavern, so tight as she suckled at him. It was such a carnal pleasure to indulge in, to be indulged. "Stop before it's too late."

  Traditional way of his kind. Where had that thought come from? Why did he have such a desire to hold her still while he plunged in and out of her incredible mouth?

  MaryAnn wanted him, all of him, was desperate for him. She felt like a woman on the brink of sanity, starving for what he had to offer. His cock thickened. Jerked. Grew hot and full. There was something terribly erotic about lying all sprawled out, held tightly in place, knowing she was pushing him past all control, even as he was controlling her. She knew it was the wolf. She scented the musky call of the male wolf as Manolito thrust hard, his hands rough now, his cock jerking, the hot jets of semen exploding into her. It was the way of the wolf to dominate, and looking up at him, she could see the amber lights flickering in the black depths of his eyes.

  He reached for her breasts, his fingers tugging at her nipples while her mouth pulled at him. Without warning, he simply bent over her, his long body covering hers, and buried his face between her thighs. She couldn't brea
the. Couldn't think. Her body bucked and writhed as his tongue stabbed deep. She was forced to turn her head and release him, and all he did was crawl up her body and pull her hips up to his marauding mouth. Her vision blurred. Her body belonged to him. To his hands and mouth and the long, muscled length of him.

  I want your heart and soul.

  The whisper would have stolen her last defense if she'd had any. You have them.

  You are safe in my keeping. And she was. As long as he lived and breathed, beyond that even, he would protect and cherish her.

  His tongue found slick heat, warm honey, and he indulged himself, holding her there easily while he took what he wanted. Her hips bucked, her breath came in sobs, as he devoured her. Her body was primed for him, already shuddering with her first climax, and he was throwing her into the second one with the dancing of his fingers over and in her. She cried out his name, music to him, the soft, ragged, breathy sound, barely audible when she ground against him in an attempt to get relief. Her releases only added to the pressure building, forever building until she was chanting, Please, please, please.

  Manolito raised his head and pulled her around to him, lifting her upright into his arms, pushing up with his body while he held her until he was standing. "Wrap your legs around my waist, MaryAnn." His voice was rough and mesmerizing.

  "I don't have any strength." She didn't, her arms and legs heavy, her body still shaking from the series of orgasms. Even so, she locked her fingers on his shoulders while she circled his body with her legs.

  "I have the strength for both of us. Just hold on, sivamet."

  She locked her ankles and closed her eyes as he lowered her over him. The broad head of his cock drove through her soft, tight folds, the friction on her already-sensitive nerve endings making her cry out and bury her face against him. "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered. "It's too much, every time, too much."

  How could she survive when her body was already in meltdown? Her need seemed unrelenting, the pressure building and building as he withdrew and her muscles tried to grip and hold him to her.