Turbulent Sea (26 page)

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."

She looked dazed, almost uncomprehending. He nuzzled her neck, kissed the pulse beating rapidly behind her ear and rolled over, closing his eyes as he slid from the warmth of her body. "Your body is incredible."

Joley could hear her heart thundering in her ears. She hadn't known sex could be like that, and it was truly terrifying. On one hand to think it might happen again, and on the other to think it might never happen again. She didn't know which was worse. She turned her head to look at him. "You're so far out of my league I can't even play."

He dropped his hand to her bare stomach, fingers splayed wide. "You did more than play,
laskovaya moya
, you drained me. I have never had that happen." The pads of his fingers began slow, circular caresses along her belly, just above the damp curls.

His touch sent ripples through her body, tightening her muscles and creating delicious aftershocks.

"Since neither of us were very responsible, I'll go first. I don't have any diseases and I'd appreciate it if you confess if you have any." She held her breath.

He smiled up at the ceiling, his fingers sliding into the curls, continuing the small, light movements. "I have no disease, Joley."

"And I'm on the pill so you don't have to worry about pregnancy," she said, "but you should have asked."

His eyebrow shot up. "And you think the pill will protect you?"

"From pregnancy, but not from an STD." She was a little alarmed by the smirk in his voice, as if he knew something she didn't.

"I told you I have no diseases, but I did put my mark on you." He took her hand and brought her palm to his lips.

Again she felt his kiss at her very core. The fingers of his other hand continued to weave through her damp curls until they slid into her slick heat, tracing more small circles. He enjoyed the shudders of pleasure and the arching of her restless hips, the way she responded to every touch. Her breathing changed; her breasts heaved and her body tightened on his fingers. She lost all coherent thought.

"Ilya." She caught his wrist. "I'm done. Totally done."

He turned toward her, his blue eyes drifting possessively over her face. "No, you're done when I say you're done. I'm done when you say. That's the way it works,
radost' moya
. And I say you're not done."

"I don't understand."

He bent his head to her breast, his tongue flicking the nipple, teeth tugging, and then his mouth settled to suckle. She gasped, and turned more into him as the flashes of fire went from nipple to sheath. Her arm cradled his head, as she held him to her.

"I'm exhausted. I want more, but I'm so tired."

His fingers plunged deeper, stroking and caressing and circling her clit. This time her orgasm was gentle and washed over her like the receding waves of the seas. He flicked her nipple with his tongue and lifted his head to find her mouth with his. His kiss was infinitely tender.

"You have trust issues, Joley. Serious ones. You gave your body into my keeping, but you don't trust me to know that you're tired and you need to come down slowly. You were flying high and it frightened you."

She kissed him again. He was right, her body was already calmer, the sensations like gentle waves calming turbulent seas. "I'm still scared."

"I don't mind you being afraid, especially if you tell me, but you know I can read you—what you want, what you like, what you need. Trust me to provide you with those things."

"You're talking about sexually." She lay back against her pillow, too tired to prop herself up even to look at his handsome face.

"Emotionally first, Joley. Then, yes, physically, sexually. But this isn't about sex. You still want it to be, but it's not. If you could never have sex with me again, I would still want to be with you. I would still need to be with you. I won't lie and say I don't have a very healthy sex drive. Make no mistake, I'll take from you the things I want and need, but your pleasure, your needs always—
always
—come first, even if you don't know what they are."

She made a face at the ceiling. "You talk and I don't know what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean. I don't do anything by halves and neither do you. You committed yourself to me and you saw inside of me enough to know what kind of man I am."