[Magic Sisters 05] - Safe Harbor

by Christine Feehan

  "That you love sharing sex with me? That you enjoy my body and love having me enjoy yours? That's a good thing, baby. What we do is between us. Private. Intimate. Not wrong. It's out of love, sharing our bodies with one another out of love. I need to bring you pleasure. I don't just want to, I need to be able to have you shatter under me." His knuckles brushed her entrance again and he watched the rich need darken her eyes. "Put your arms around my neck and hang on."

  She linked her hands together behind his neck and pressed her brow to his, gasping as his finger slid over her and into her, instantly twisting the knot of nerves into a fiery bundle of streaking electric currents that sizzled through her body, destroying any semblance of control she thought she might still have.

  "Jonas." His name came out in a ragged gasp.

  "I'm going to love teaching you all sorts of wonderful new things, Hannah." Most of all, he was determined to show her how beautiful she really was. Beautiful and sexy and his. If he gave her nothing else, he wanted that for her.

  He stroked a second time, gently, sending shivers through her body. Without warning, his fingers plunged deep and she cried out, throwing her head back. His thumb found her most responsive spot and raked over the hypersensitive nub. Her body just seemed to melt, to come apart. A small whimper escaped, torn from her throat as she pushed against his hand. The sound went straight to his groin. He felt himself swell, jerk, his balls tighten. He had to get out of his clothes or he wasn't going to survive.

  "I need to get you inside, Hannah, or I'll be taking you right here like some eager teenager."

  She looked up at him in a kind of mindless daze, the look so sexy he nearly lost control right then, but he wasn't going to jerk his cock out of his pants and take her in a damned truck. He wanted to ride her, hot and fierce, but not like this. He took a deep breath for control, pulled her skirt down and opened her door.

  "No lights, Jonas. Keep the lights off."

  "We'll do whatever you're comfortable with, baby." But he was going to make her so damned crazy she wasn't going to think about anything else but him and what his hands and his mouth and his body could do to hers.

  Knees shaking, legs weak, Hannah didn't wait for him to come around and help her out, but preceded him up the front steps to his home. She craved him. Was obsessed with him. She wanted Jonas to replace her innocence with experience, and was determined to have him teach her how to please him. She wanted to learn every way they could pleasure each other. Most of all, she wanted Jonas Harrington for herself, and for the first time in her life, she was fully taking what she wanted.

  Jonas reached around her and unlocked the door. Hannah stepped inside and he grabbed her, kicking the door closed and yanking the coat from her shoulders. He dropped it on the floor and dragged her back against him, hands cupping her breasts, chin resting on her shoulder. His breath came in hard gasps as he pressed his erection tightly against the curve of her bottom, so only the denim covering him and the thin material of her skirt separated them.

  "I'm going to eat you alive, Hannah." He bit down on the side of her neck. "You're so soft, how the hell do you get so soft?"

  She was afraid she might fall right to the floor. His hands were all over her breasts as he stepped back, forcing her body to bow and give him even better access. One hand slid over her hip and around her body, tugging at her skirt. Her hands automatically flew to his. "Just pull it up," she said hesitantly.

  "It's dark in here, baby. Let's be skin to skin. Right here, right now."

  He spun her around and found her mouth with his, tongue plunging deep, stroking along hers, devouring her just as he said he would, not giving her time to think. He'd always loved the shape of her mouth, the full lower lip, how soft and perfect it was. He bit at it, teased and tugged and went back to kissing. He craved the taste of her, sweet and hot and addicting, and he kissed her over and over until she gave herself up to him, her body molding to his and her arms stealing around his neck.

  He tugged her skirt from her hips, allowing the material to pool around her feet. Jonas broke the kiss, skimmed his hands down her breasts, and then leaned forward to replace his hands with his mouth. A choking cry broke free, her body shuddering as he licked and sucked until she was writhing against him. His teeth bit gently down on her nipple and heat rockets flared, streaking straight to her thighs.

  Jonas tore his shirt off and yanked hers over her head, tossing it aside, before backing her up to the wall. He caught both wrists and drew her hands over her head, pinning her there with one of his, while his mouth ravaged hers and his free hand tugged at her nipples and slid down her belly to her damp, heated entrance. "Oh, baby, you're so ready for me. I've waited so long for you."

  Hannah couldn't talk. Couldn't even plead. She was nearly blind with want. He had driven her body to such a fever pitch of excitement, she couldn't think clearly. Then he dropped her hands and his mouth was skimming down her body as he went to his knees. He widened her thighs and clamped his mouth on her, his tongue plunging deep, stroking hard, then alternating with suckling.

  She screamed, her legs going out from under her, her hands gripping his shoulder for support, the only thing holding her up as he devoured her. Her body spasmed, her stomach, her thighs, her buttocks, even her breasts, as lightning streaked through her. His mouth was merciless, driving her up and up, so that her inner muscles rippled and clenched and waves of sensation burst through her. It wouldn't stop, not even long enough for her to catch her breath. He was eating her alive, making her his, leaving his brand on her.

  Hannah gave herself up to him, letting him have her completely, her body no longer her own. Jonas stood up, lifting her into his arms, shoving her against the wall.

  "Wrap your legs around me, Hannah." His voice was a harsh rasp in her ear.

  She circled his neck with her arms, and his waist with her legs, feeling the broad head of his erection poised at her entrance. And then he dropped her body over his, locking them together. She heard her own shattered cry as he filled her, driving through her ultrasensitive folds. He was so thick, almost too big for her, the friction hot and tight and dragging over the fiery knot of nerves so that it threw her into another shocking orgasm.

  She looked at his face, the glitter in his eyes, the harsh intensity of his desire written into every line of his face. Her breath stilled. Her mind. Everything in her went quiet for just one moment of realization. That was love in his eyes—for her. If he owned her body and soul, she owned him right back. And then the moment was gone because he was holding her hips still and lodging so deep inside her she felt him bump hard against her womb. Once again she was drowning, going under as waves of sheer ecstasy washed over and through her.

  He began to thrust hard, pumping into her, her channel hot silk, muscles swollen and gripping him tightly as he drove into her, his mind coming apart as he felt the climaxes building and tearing through her over and over. Her body fit his perfectly, squeezing like a fist, sending fiery streaks rushing through him from his toes to his head. His body strained, muscles locking as his own climax ripped through him like a firestorm, his heart thundering in his ears, pounding against hers as he fought for air.

  They collapsed against the wall, arms holding one another up, until, shaky, he allowed his body to slip from hers and they sank onto the floor. "Give me a minute, Hannah, and I'll carry you to bed."

  She curled her fingers around his arm, wanting to hold on to him. "We can just sleep here."

  "You'll get too cold," he protested. "Besides, I want to make love to you in my bed so I can wake up with your scent on my sheets."

  "We can't possibly again."

  He reached for her, his smile slow and sensual. "Anything is possible, baby."

  Chapter Eighteen

  JONAS woke with his heart pounding and sweat beading on his body, the echo of his nightmare still ringing in his ears. He dragged in air and turned his head to look at Hannah. She was lying facedown beside him. Soft morning sunlight spilled thr
ough the window, bathing her in celestial light, so that her skin seemed luminous. The contour of her bottom was heart-stopping, nearly driving the nightmare from his head. He slid his hand possessively down her long back, noting he was shaking as he traced the long, beautiful line of her. He touched the dimples on either side of her spine, and then ran his hand over the enticing curve joining her back to bottom.

  She looked tired, sprawled out, one arm flung wide, hair spilling everywhere. Tired—and vulnerable. He'd made love to her over and over, pushing her beyond her comfort zone more than once, but she'd gone with him and they'd exploded together often, like rockets going off on the Fourth of July. He'd never experienced sex the way it was with her and he could only conclude that loving a woman wholly, with every breath in a man's body, took mere sex into a whole different realm. He didn't want to wake her just because he was so needy with nightmares crowding close, but he considered it.

  His body was already reacting to the sight and scent of her.

  He tried to recall the dream that had awoken him. He'd been back in the alley, watching the Russian mobsters, hiding like a coward in the shadows while one of them had put a bullet in an undercover agent's head. Terry, the driver, had run to him, begging for help, and he'd calmly continued to film as Karl Tarasov walked up behind him and shot him. And then Hannah was there, smiling at Tarasov, and he leaned down to kiss her, only a knife was clutched in his hand. He lifted it and the world turned red.

  Jonas rolled over with a small groan, taking the sheets with him, flinging one arm over his eyes, trying to stop his mind from replaying the attack on her over and over. Beside him, Hannah stirred. She turned slightly toward him, a leisurely, slow movement of her body, drawing his immediate attention. Her lips were full and soft, sending an electrical charge through his body when she leaned close and kissed his navel. He felt the slide of her new, short curls over his thickened cock. Every nerve ending leapt to life. The sweep of her soft breasts contracted his muscles and brought him to full alert.

  What could be more beautiful than Hannah sliding over his body, naked and willing, with the smile of a temptress and the promise of heaven in her eyes?

  "You look like a fairy tale lying in my bed. Goldilocks with her hair spread across my pillow."

  She lifted her head just enough to flash another smile at him—teasing—mischievous. "You had fantasies about Goldilocks?"

  Now he could see the curve of one breast, full and tempting, adding to the allure of her curved bottom. "Hell yes I did. A very naughty woman with golden curls just waiting naked in my bed, knowing she deserves punishment and I'm the one going to give it to her." He caught her hair in his fist and lifted the mass from her neck so he could lean in and taste her skin. Deliberately he scraped his teeth down to her shoulder, tongue swirling as he found every intriguing dip.

  "So you're a bad bear."

  "When I have to be." His hands slid down her back and cupped her buttocks, kneading the firm muscles and pressing her closer to him. "Are you going to give me my fantasy just like you did the last one?"

  She leaned closer to him, brushing the corner of his mouth with hers, trailing kisses along his jaw to his neck. He closed his eyes, feeling the small velvet rasp, the stinging nip of playful teeth, and then her lips were moving over his shoulder. The perfect way to start a morning. "I'll give you any fantasy you want, Jonas." She rubbed her face against him like a purring cat. "As long as you give me mine."

  He opened his eyes and looked at her, feeling lazy and aroused, a slow burn moving through his body, as if he had all the time in the world to enjoy her. Hannah. His. He slid his hand down her spine to her lower back, making lazy circles. "You have fantasies about me?"

  She gave him a wicked smirk, lowered her mouth to his shoulder and bit him gently. "I said I have fantasies, I didn't say about you."

  He narrowed his eyes at her, his hand moving over the rounded curve of her bottom in warning. "I'm a jealous man, Hannah. Your fantasies need to be about me."

  She laughed softly, the sound sliding through his body, fanning the slow burn into something altogether different. She sounded happy and relaxed, and when she looked at him, he saw love in her eyes. His heart stumbled. It was damned scary how she could turn him inside out with just one look. He would never understand how he managed to get so lucky, he sure as hell didn't deserve her, but he wasn't ever going to be stupid enough to lose her.

  When she moved, her hair slid in a caress over her skin, hiding her generous breasts from him one moment. The next—he'd catch a glimpse of the lush curve and tight bud of a nipple. She was inches from his mouth—tempting candy—so sweet.

  Looking at her hurt. Taking her over and over through the night hadn't changed that at all. He would think he was fully sated, his body completely satisfied, and then she'd move, with her sexy, flowing grace, brush her skin against his, or do that little pouty thing with her mouth and he'd be hard as a rock again. Worse, deep down, in some hidden core where no one else could see or ever know, he turned to mush—melted—and knew with a certainty that he was lost forever—caught in her spell.

  "I love you, Hannah." His throat hurt he felt so raw with love.

  In answer, she shifted, an erotic flow of muscle beneath skin, sliding over his body, her head on his chest, her breasts soft and full along his belly, her long, beautiful legs nudging his apart so she could settle comfortably into him. His body temperature spiked as she began a leisurely slide down him, pressing little kisses over his chest and belly. Her tongue felt like velvet as she gave small little flicks along his ribs.

  His heart jumped and began to race. Hannah surprised him with her playful nips and her gliding tongue. Blood surged hotly in his veins.

  "I love this, knowing I can touch you like this."

  Her breath whispered over his skin, hot, erotic, making his body tighten, harden, nearly burst with the anticipation. She left a sensual trail of dampness along his thigh as she continued to move lower still, sliding her soft wet mound deliberately over his leg. He was going to lose his mind before she was through, but he'd make the sacrifice.

  There was nothing hurried or frenzied about her exploration. Her hands were slow, shaping his muscles, tracing over his ribs. She teased and flicked his flat nipples, and all the while, her mouth did that slow, lazy burn down his body. Although he had made love to her most of the night, it felt like the first time all over again—the breathless expectation, the raging assault on his senses, the fire burning through his groin until he wanted to scream with the pleasure-pain of it.

  Hannah had no idea what she was doing, but it was fun. Jonas's body was sprawled out, completely open to her—her private playground—and she wanted to play. She wanted to know every intimate detail about him. He knew her body, knew exactly how to make her shatter and come apart for him, she wanted the same knowledge of him. Jonas made her feel confident in herself, in her body, in her sexuality.

  She pressed kisses down his belly, enjoying the feel of his muscles bunching beneath her lips. The texture of his skin was amazing, hot and firm and soft yet unyielding. His body was taut, hips restless, but for her, he tried to be still and let her do as she wanted. It wasn't easy for him. His body trembled and she knew he was naturally dominant, but he twisted his fists in the sheets and held himself still for her. When he did lift a hand to slide it over the curve of her back, she lifted her head in warning.

  "Keep your hands on the mattress, Jonas."

  He grinned at her, but his eyes were hot. "My little dominatrix, sexy as hell."

  "It's my turn. You spent all night exploring my body, and I want to have my chance with yours. It's only fair." She slipped a little lower still and blew warm air over the broad, flared head of his straining erection. "You're a little intimidating."

  He tried not to come off the mattress. "But I make you feel so good."

  "True." She blew more air and watched his body jerk, and his hips buck toward her waiting mouth. Eyes locked with his, she experimentall
y flicked her tongue out to taste him.

  "Son of a bitch, Hannah." The words broke from him, a curse—a prayer. His voice was harsh, broken.

  "Well, I've never done this. I might need a little instruction."

  When she spoke, her lips brushed the sensitive head and her tongue glided over him in hot rasping strokes, punctuating each word.

  He closed his eyes briefly, but couldn't stop looking at the erotic sight she made. "Wrap your hand tight around the base, baby." His breath hissed out of his lungs as she complied. Her hand was small, delicate even, circling as close to the base as possible. "Tighter, honey. Don't be afraid. When I'm inside you, you're so damn tight you're strangling me." He groaned in sudden pleasure. "That's it, that's what I need."

  She smiled at him and lowered her head again, her tongue gliding over him, curling under the broad head to stroke fire along his most sensitive spot. She'd never felt more powerful than at that moment. He looked as if she could destroy him, his blue eyes so dark they were almost black, his breathing harsh and his pulsing flesh so hard and thick it felt like velvet over steel.

  Locking her gaze with his, she parted her lips and, with slow deliberation, encased the hot, engorged head of his cock in the moist heat of her mouth. His entire body jerked and his hands flew up to catch her hair in two tight fists. He let out a strangled gasp, said something rough and low that made her body throb and weep with excitement.

  She wanted to devour him the way he had her, take him apart, piece by piece, until he was writhing in ecstasy. He had already taught her what a lover could do with a masterful mouth and she wanted to learn everything. More than anything, she wanted to bring him the kind of pleasure he'd given her. A gift—a loving. The benefit was the thrill, the heat in his eyes, the total joy of giving that brought her own body to a fever pitch.

  Jonas groaned, working to keep control, to keep his thrusts shallow and hold back when he wanted to slide down her throat. She was just too damned sexy, looking both shy and sensuous rolled into one. She wanted to bring him pleasure—wanted to know his body. It showed in her eyes, in her touch, in her sinful, wicked mouth as she wrecked him slowly and with purposeful intent. "Right there, baby, with your tongue."