Spirit Bound (39 page)

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Authors: Christine Feehan

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Romance

BOOK: Spirit Bound
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“I thought I was worshiping yours,” she said. “If nothing else, Stefan, I sent you a love letter. I’m hoping you understand I’m giving my heart to you.”

He kissed his way over her chin and down her throat to her neck. “I understood perfectly, and I hope you understand what I’m saying to you.”

Judith could barely breathe with his mouth pulling at her breasts and his teeth and tongue teasing and flicking her nipples into tight peaks of aching desire. He took her up so fast and she was already half crazy with need and hunger. She loved driving him over the edge, knowing she was the only woman who had ever done such a thing. It was a heady experience, craving the taste and texture of him, loving the way she could make him feel nearly as helpless with desire as he made her. Touching him, using her mouth on him had fed her own deep hunger.

His tongue traced her ribs and found her belly button. She had no idea she could be so sensitive. Were those sounds coming from her throat? Desperate. Pleading. She was on fire, and couldn’t still her hips from bucking almost desperately. She wanted to weep with need. How could the chemistry between them be so out of control, a firestorm that burned so hot she didn’t think she could stand it?

I’ve got you, baby,
he assured her. His tongue dipped again into her navel and blazed a trail to the junction of her legs.

The brush of his voice inside her head only served to heighten her pleasure even more. There was something so intimate about communicating with him on such a level. She could feel the intensity of his hunger for her, the driving need to possess her, to claim her for his own. He wanted life with her—forever with her—and he envisioned years here on the farm, in her home. He planned on making love to her in every single room and out on the balconies as well. The erotic images in his head enhanced her own fantasies.

And then he dipped his head, his tongue lapping at the liquid heat spilling along her thighs in welcome and every sane thought disappeared. She thought she might have screamed, but it came out a pleading sob. His tongue made a slow circle and then pushed deep, still deliberately slow, driving the breath from her lungs.

“I’m ready. I am. You don’t have to do that,” she pleaded, because she was too close to flying apart.

I want to do this. I love the taste of you. I may just eat you up.

His voice was a velvet growl, his hard hands pinning her hips still when she would have thrashed beneath him. Judith couldn’t still the little gasps and keening wails escaping her throat as he devoured her like a man possessed.

Music. I love the music you make.

He was killing her with pleasure. With his mouth. With his fingers. Even with his voice. If he’d stuck to one rhythm she might have been able to keep a clear thought, but he continually changed, licking and sucking and flicking until she felt wild and a little crazed. Deep inside the tension coiled tighter and tighter until she was gasping for air and begging him to fill her.

His face struck her as he knelt above, his hands sure on her hips, dragging her to him, lifting her body so easily. She was an artist, and if she was going to paint him, she would try to capture that sculpted, carved-from-stone look of sheer sensuality stamped on his face. The dark desire in his eyes, the hunger in the stamp of his mouth. He was beautiful and so sexy a lump welled up in her throat, blocking all sound as she stilled, feeling the broad head of his heavy erection pressed to her needy entrance.

She heard her heartbeat thundering in her ears as his shaft slowly invaded her body, one stunning inch at a time. He filled her so full, sending streaks of fire—of lightning—rushing over her skin, enflaming every nerve ending to a point almost beyond endurance. His rock-hard flesh pushed deeper and deeper into her body, searing her body with scorching heat.

She wanted him with every cell in her body, wanted him to belong solely to her. She tightened her muscles around him, gripping hard, desperate for him. His hiss of agony shocked her, his eyes going turbulent and stormy with lust. He actually groaned, a tortured, strangled sound that sent her heart pounding and her body writhing beneath his.

“Angel, I’m going to lose control if you keep that up. I swear, baby, you’re so damn hot and tight I’m going to lose my mind.”

She wanted him to lose his mind, to lose all that perfect control—for her, with her. “Lose it then, Stefan. With me. Lose your mind with me,” she whispered, not fully understanding what she was asking, but knowing with him she’d go anywhere.

He pulled back, pistoned forward in a harsh, nearly brutal stroke, driving through velvet folds, deep, so deep and she rose to meet him, her muscles throbbing around his pulsing flesh. Deep inside, every movement he made filled her, caressed her, sent those streaks of fire arcing over her until she was nearly mindless with the sensations tearing through her.

His hands gripped her tighter and she felt the difference in him as if he’d coiled tighter himself, as if that long held control was at an end. The ride turned wild, he drove hard and fast, deep and full, a jackhammer intent on finding her womb and lodging himself there. She heard her own keening cry as he plunged into her over and over, the rhythmic thrusting setting her blood on fire and nearly driving her right off the bed. It was only the tight grip of his hands pinning her in place.

Tension grew, coiled tighter and tighter until she was tossing her head, digging her heels into the mattress, desperately trying to get away, to push herself harder into him, impale herself on that steel spike that never stopped thrusting into her. He was tormenting her, driving her insane with such a frantic need that seemed never ending. Her breath came in gasping sobs, as the firestorm rushed over her.

Her mouth opened wide, a soundless scream, as his shaft pressed hard on her sensitized bud. Her body clamped down on his, claimed his, gripping like a vise of silk and steel. Wave after wave shook her, swept both of them up in the torrent of sensation. His hoarse cry was harsh, a startled yell of triumph somewhere caught between love and laughter that he could burn with her, feel with her.

Stefan, with his remaining strength, dragged her completely onto the bed, collapsing on top of her, while they both fought for breath. Her hair was damp, and a fine sheen dampened both their bodies. Their hearts beat like crazy, an accelerated rhythm that made them both laugh. Stefan wrapped his arms around her and rolled until she sprawled on top of him. He held her in his arms for a long time, breathing deeply, before he lifted his head to trail kisses over her face, one hand smoothing back her hair. His gaze drifted slowly over her, his eyes—those deep blue-green eyes smiling, his face relaxed.

“We’re not finished by a long shot,
moya angel.
We’re just getting started.”

She looked down over his body, not yet soft, not even close. “That’s not possible.”

He smiled at her. “You have no idea what I can do.”

16

 

“ I’M
never moving again. Two days and nights in bed has just about killed me.” Judith tilted her chair back, set her feet up on the balcony railing overlooking her garden and stared up at the stars.

She was exhausted, completely and utterly exhausted. Her body was boneless and every muscle felt limp and useless. She was sore in places she hadn’t known existed, but it was a delicious soreness.

Stefan’s arm curled around her neck from behind and she looked up at his face looming over hers. He always looked so intent, so much the hunter. There was no way for him to hide what he was. She found herself smiling, joy bursting through her.

“If you’ve come to assault me, crazy man, I’m not moving.”

His mouth quirked. “A challenge then. I do not like to lose.”

“No! No way. It’s not a challenge. I made that mistake an hour ago and I had to crawl out here. I can’t even stand up.” Laughing, she held her hands up in surrender.

“In that case, I’ve come bearing gifts.” He bent his head and took her mouth.

She loved the confidence in him that bordered on arrogance. He knew he had wrapped her around his little finger. She wouldn’t say no to kisses—or sex—with him. Ever. It didn’t take much persuasion on his part and her body belonged to him. She lost herself there in his kiss, in the heat of his mouth, the taste of passion and love. She had to come up for breath before she simply drowned in him.

“Hot chocolate,” he announced. “I would have made tea, but you need to sleep if you’re going to work tomorrow.”

She took the hot mug and licked at the dollop of whipped cream on top. “You’re my savior. I was just thinking chocolate would revive me, but I didn’t have the strength to go get it.”

“I read your mind,” he admitted, toeing another chair around to sit beside her. “You don’t have to work tomorrow. We can take another day.”

“I wouldn’t survive another day,” Judith admitted, laughing. Happiness danced in the air around, small threads of silver and gold that sparkled with the stars. “And Airiana definitely would do me in if you didn’t—in a completely different way, of course. She’s covered for me at the shop, but she can’t keep it up.”

“I suppose I have to share you with the world,” he said. “I’ll go with you to Sea Haven tomorrow and go over the books at the gallery.”

“You’re really thinking of buying it?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of money, but I wouldn’t enjoy doing nothing. I spend a lot of my time going to galleries all over the world and maybe in the back of my head I always considered what I’d do with one.”

“This is a small town, Stefan.”

“Thomas. Stefan Prakenskii doesn’t exist. There’s no photograph of him and no fingerprints. I doubt if a birth certificate exists. I’m a ghost, Judith. Sorbacov has never heard of Thomas Vincent, the American businessman. All of us develop numerous covers we can disappear into when needed and Vincent’s cover is solid. He’s going to settle here with you, make kaleidoscopes, own an art gallery and make babies.”

She laughed, taking a cautious sip of the hot chocolate. She should have known it would be the perfect temperature. Stefan saw to little details, she was learning that about him. He always saw to her comfort, running a bath, carrying her to it after they’d made crazy, wild love, wrapping her in blankets or handing her a sweater almost before she knew she was cold. He would never have served her chocolate that would scorch her mouth.

“You’re obsessed with babies.”

He grinned at her. “With
making
babies,” he corrected. “I’m practicing until I get it right.”

“If you get any better at it, Stefan . . . Thomas, I’ll be dead. I’m getting schizophrenic just thinking about this. So you’ll be Thomas Vincent.”

“And you’ll be Mrs. Thomas Vincent.”

“Is that even legal?”

“I have all the credentials to prove it. It’s more legal than Prakenskii. In any case, when it’s all done, we’ll have someone we trust do the ceremony in my native language using the name my father gave me.” His eyes met hers. “It’s important to me that you carry my given name even if we can’t use it.”

Love flooded her. She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth to keep from making a big deal out of his declaration. He couldn’t hide sincerity from her, there was no way. He wanted to marry her using his father’s name and it meant the world to her that he would try to find a way even if they lived under another name.

When she looked at him, sometimes she couldn’t breathe with the intensity of her emotions. “You surprised me with the way you pay such close attention to what matters to me.” It was more than paying close attention, he focused so completely on her, observing everything, her smallest expressions, every nuance. She would never be able to hide anything from Stefan.

He reached out to take strands of her long hair between his fingers. She noticed he did that quite often, at the oddest times.

“I’ll always pay attention to what matters to you,” he said, his voice that low, almost velvet tone she’d come to love. “When a man has nothing in his life worth anything and he finds a treasure, he guards her with everything he is. I’m a man of many talents, angel, and keeping you happy will be my first priority.”

She regarded him over the chocolate. His face was back in the shadows. She realized he often sat in the shadows and probably always would. There was something in what he said that made her shiver, a cold chill sliding down her spine, but she wasn’t certain she could put her finger on just what it was.

“Sometimes you’re a little scary, Thomas.” She tested the name. Now that she knew him as Stefan, Thomas didn’t quite suit him, but she’d learn to live with it, just as he would.

“I don’t mind you being a little afraid sometimes, Judith. You’re a woman who could twist a man around your little finger.”

She burst out laughing. “I swear I just was thinking you had me around your little finger.”

He tugged on her hair until she yelped. He brought the strands to his mouth. “I’m very fortunate you enjoy sex. Whenever I see I might have an argument on my hands, I kiss you senseless.”

There was a little too much truth in his quiet statement to be entirely comfortable. He could kiss her senseless. She forgot her own name when he was kissing her. “I’ll have to watch out for that.”

He smiled then and her heart leapt. He didn’t smile often, not a genuine smile that crept into his eyes like now. “You have nothing to worry about, angel. You’re the only woman in the world who is capable of making me lose all control. I think we both have a good shot at distracting each other.”

“Well, you do make the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had. What did you put in this?”

“It’s a secret Russian recipe for falling asleep. You’ve had a hot bath, hot chocolate and my promise to let you sleep until morning.”

“What time would you consider morning?” Judith asked mischievously.

He flashed a small grin at her. “Well, I haven’t quite decided that yet. You aren’t getting enough sleep and I have to quit being so selfish.”

Judith took another long swallow of the chocolate and studied the stars overhead. “Actually, I believe it was me waking you this last time. You were sleeping all sexy and I just couldn’t resist temptation, so technically, I suppose it really is your fault after all.”

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