Midnight Sins (14 page)

nerve ending was sensitized. Hunger was tearing at

her with furious demand.

He stumbled across the room as her hands

buried in his hair, pulling free the strip of leather that

held his long, thick black hair back from his savagely

hewn face.

Gripping the thick strands, she tried to lift herself

closer, to bury herself deeper in the kiss that stoked

the flames burning in her pussy.

Her womb clenched, her body became hot and

flushed despite the perspiration that gathered on her

flesh.

This was what tormented her long into the night.

This was that unnamed hunger that gnawed at

her and kept her searching restlessly for ease.

It was Rafer. His touch, his kiss, the steady, fiery

demand of the hunger he poured into her.

This was what she hungered for.

For his lips moving over hers as she felt her

naked buttocks settle on the heavy kitchen table.

The coffee cups were raked aside, the heavy

plastic crashing on the floor.

Was this one of the fantasies he’d once told her

he had about her?

Nothing could be as explicit as her fantasies for

him.

“No,” the desperate command burst from her lips

as his lips lifted, from hers his head pulling back as he

stared down at her. Deep sapphire-blue eyes

narrowed on her as they gleamed with naked, furious

lust.

“I told you, I’m going to fuck your pussy with my

tongue,” he told her. “I have every intention of tasting

every bit of flesh I bury into.”

Her lips parted on a shocked exclamation. A

totally involuntary sound as her hands dug deeper into

his hair. Her neck arched as his lips ran along her jaw,

then the column of sensitive flesh as her head fell

back weakly to allow him access.

Broad hands flattened on her back as he kept

her close to him, despite her perched position on the

table. Angling his body between her knees, he

pressed her thighs apart as he nipped at her neck.

Then he licked the light abrasion, his tongue rasping

over the sensitive flesh with erotic roughness.

Another moan slipped past her lips. That part of

her that lived in fear of losing someone else she loved

was screaming out in agony. Begging her to deny

him.

What was it about his touch? What made Rafer

Callahan so different from the other men she had

dated? So different that as he lowered her along the

table, her back meeting the cool wood, she would try

to arch closer in eager anticipation. So different that

the voice of agony was slowly silenced. She needed

this. Needed him, his touch, his kiss, like the land

needed sunlight and rain.

His thumbs found her nipples as her back

arched.

The exciting abrasion of his calloused thumbs

against the sensitive tips had her arching, twisting to

get closer.

“Suck them, Rafe,” she moaned. “Oh God, I need

your mouth on my nipples again. Just one more time

hard like you did before.”

She could have been shocked that the words

slipped out so easily, the demand in her voice as

explicit as the words themselves.

Her fingers curled, tightening in his hair.

She couldn’t stand to breathe. She wanted no

other need, no other impulse, no matter how life

sustaining, to distract her from his lips as they painted

a trail of sizzling electric pleasure over her flesh.

The shaft of his cock pressed against the wet

folds of her pussy, the grinding shift of his hips forcing

her swollen folds to part and rasping at the tiny bud.

She wanted. She wanted him so badly that she

could barely hold back a scream of reaction as the

iron hot shaft moved against the tender bud, stroking

it.

Not that she had the breath to scream. She could

barely breathe.

Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze on his lips as

he placed small, nipping kisses along the mounds of

her breasts. His eyes glittered with wicked promise,

with teasing sensuality. As she watched, his lips

moved closer, then pulled back from the aching

nipples.

Her nipples ached.

Licking her lips to ease the dryness there, she

could watch, ache for more. As she watched his lips

draw closer, closer.

“I love your lips, your tongue,” she breathed out. “I

love it when you suck my nipples, Rafe. I dream of you

sucking my nipples.”

Oh God.

Keening and low, shattered and weak, a moan

burst from her as his lips covered an agonizing hard

tip. It was like pure liquid heat surrounding it. His

tongue rubbed, licked. Heated and moist, he flicked it

over her nipple before he began sucking it with fiery

abrasions. He drew on it with erotic hunger, sucking it,

sending jagged fingers of intense sensation rushing

to her womb, her clit.

“Rafer.” She was delirious with pleasure. “Yes.

Suck it. Suck it hard.”

She needed more. She couldn’t get a hardenough

caress, a deep-enough touch.

At her trembling plea his lips tightened around

the nerve-laden center, suckling it deeper, his cheeks

hollowing, his tongue flicking against it, rasping the

nerve endings as flares of brilliant flames began to

ignite across her body.

“Rafer,” she cried out his name. Her fingers

clenched in his hair, moved to his shoulders. Her

fingers restless, desperate to experience the feel of

his body just one more time.

One more time. That was all she wanted; it was

all she ached for, fantasized for. She would survive if

she could have him just one more time.

His lips moved from one breast to the other,

copying the harder sucking motions of his mouth and

the caress of his tongue. Each rasp to her nipple,

each hungry draw of his mouth, deepened the hunger

rising inside her once again.

“So good.” Her voice trembled. Need was

tearing through her like wildfire. “Rafer. It’s so good.”

And it was.

Her hips ground against the wide shaft pressing

into her folds, stroking her clit and the sensations

higher as his lips, teeth, and tongue tormented her

nipples.

The flares of sensation, fingers of electric

pleasure that tore through her, increased the

desperation growing in her womb. As though she

hadn’t just come for his fingers moments before.

Lust burned through her veins as her blood

thundered, rushing through her. It spiked her arousal

with adrenaline and pushed her closer to a hunger

she may never escape again. He had never taken her

like this. He had never used such deliberate

seduction and fiery caresses before.

Then his lips began moving lower. His hands

gripped her hips, holding her still, steady, as she

levered her upper body up on her elbows, panting,

watching as intense, burning blue eyes stared up at

her. He kissed his way to the moisture gleaming on

her sex, his tongue licking a heated trail to her bare

flesh.

His hands slid to her thighs as he moved farther

down her body, slowly easing to the chair he jerked to

him. He pushed his hands between her thighs and

parted her legs as he lowered his head further.

Gripping her ankle, he bent her knee, pushing it

back until he could place her foot on the edge of the

table. The other he placed on the back of the chair still

pushed beneath the edge.

She was fully open to him, the juices easing from

her vagina, sliding along the crease of her rear, and

heating the small, hidden entrance to her body lower.

She was too aware of each point of her body that

he had paid such special attention to in the years

before. His touch had that effect on her. Affected her

as no other pleasure had, before or after.

Her pussy rippled with anticipation; her clit

throbbed with the need for release.

“Touch your nipples,” he growled, his voice

demanding and rough as he breathed the words over

her clit.

Almost involuntarily she slid one hand along her

stomach, moving up to the tight bud mound of her

breast as his lips reached her lower belly. His fingers

clenched at her hips, a groan rumbling in his throat as

she found her nipple with her fingers, pinched it,

rolling it delicately as several panting cries left her

lips.

His lips brushed against a hip bone, went lower,

moved in closer, until they were poised over the

straining bud of her clit. Glistening with moisture,

swollen, peeking past the folds of her pussy, the little

bundle of nerves begged for his touch.

Cami could only watch.

Just watch. And wait in agonized anticipation for

the touch of his wicked mouth.

His tongue licked over the slick, bare flesh of her

pussy. If they ever had a next time, then she would pay

him back for the weakness invading her limbs and the

lack of control she had over the hunger tormenting

her.

“What are you waiting for?” She moaned,

prepared to beg if that was what he wanted,

demanded that she do.

“What do you want?” His tongue peeked out,

touched his bottom lip, then retreated back inside his

mouth teasingly. It was his tongue, his lips, his hungry

suckling mouth on her clit that she was dying for.

“Your tongue.” He knew exactly what she wanted.

“Your lips,” she all but begged. “Your tongue. Suck my

pussy, Rafer.” Her free hand was in his hair and she

had no idea how it made it there. “Lick it all over like

you promised.”

Her fingers buried themselves in the hair at the

back of his head, her hips shifting, tilting as she

pressed him to her. She all but tried to drag his lips to

her flesh.

Her lips parted, the erotic, hungry impulses

surging through her turning her into the woman she

had glimpsed only three other times. Every time Rafe

had touched her. Every time he had taken her.

“Lick my pussy, Rafer,” she all but begged. “Fuck

it. I want to feel your tongue—” She arched, the breath

leaving her lungs in a rush of pleasure and excitement

as his head lowered and his lips surrounded her clit.

Every muscle tightened in her body as pleasure

screamed through her senses.

His tongue licked around it, sensation curling,

burning around the small knot of nerves as her thighs

widened, further, her hips tilting higher.

Oh, yes. She needed this. She dreamed of this

and she ached for it. Every night since she had been

old enough to understand the effect Rafe had on her,