Chosen by Desire (22 page)

She rode him out, going softer as the waves of his orgasm receded, until his body relaxed.

Well, most of his body. His penis was still half hard.

She lapped at him one more time and then lifted her head. She couldn’t stop a grin from stretching her lips. “So I guess you kind of liked that, huh?”

In answer, he flipped her onto her back, covered her with his body, and ravaged her mouth. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, and still it wasn’t enough. She squirmed to get closer, wanting to feel more of his skin pressed against her.

“Easy,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

“Yeah, right.” She arched her back as he started nibbling his way down her chest.
Oh, yes.
“You can say that. You’ve already had your pleasure.”

He kissed the inner curve of her breast. “I seem to recall you had your pleasure, too.”

Her face went up in flames. “You, um, noticed that?”

“Yes.” With his tongue, he traced a path around the tip of her breast. “You called my name when you came.”

She laughed to cover her embarrassment. “You starred prominently in the fantasy I was having.”

He glanced up, and his normally cool eyes blazed with heat. “I want you to tell me your fantasies, and I want to watch you touch yourself while you do it.”

Even though her cheeks were still red with self-consciousness, the idea of teasing him by playing with herself made her hot. “Right now?”

“No.” He lowered his mouth to lick her nipple. “Another time. Right now it’s my turn to taste you.”

“Okay.” Her body went limp, and a gush of warmth flooded between her legs.

Max sucked her nipple for a second—hard—and then let it pop from his mouth, repeating it on the other side and then back and forth until she writhed on the bed, her legs wrapped around his waist. She wanted more. She
needed
more.

She started rubbing herself against his erection—fully hard again. He felt perfect. But he shifted away from her and began biting his way to her belly. His hands trailed from her hips to her thighs, which he pressed wide open as he settled between them.

She lay open before him, bared and vulnerable. Swallowing, she looked at him, wondering what was going through his mind but afraid if she asked she’d ruin the moment. So instead she said, “Need pointers?”

He cocked his brow. “Do you have much experience with women?”

“Uh, no. None at all.” She grinned. “But I’m pretty sure I know what I like.”

“Pretty sure?” He leaned down and licked a trail up her inner thigh. “You aren’t positive?”

“I don’t have all that much practical experience.” She sighed and let her leg fall open more. “But that’s not too bad.”

“Tell me what you know you like.”

She hesitated. But she felt Max’s breath on her skin and wanted him so badly, she couldn’t hold back. “Sometimes I like it slow and soft. So I can barely feel it.”

She felt the most delicate stroke—a whisper of a touch that had her straining to feel more. He brushed her again, and when she felt the nibbling of his lips she realized he used his tongue.
Oh, God.
Closing her eyes, she clenched the covers, hoping she wouldn’t pass out and miss it all.

“What else?” he asked, his voice hoarse with desire.

“Sometimes I like it hard and fast. To be completely filled.” She gasped and arched as his finger slid inside her. His mouth joined in, lapping at her like he couldn’t get enough. She cried out, wanting to tell him all the secret little fantasies she’d been having, but her orgasm hovered so close she couldn’t find the words.

He removed his finger and went back to the barely there, cotton candy licks. With a low, frustrated moan, she tried to inch closer to him but he held her still.

“More?” he asked with a swipe of his tongue.

“Oh, yes, please.”

He slid a finger inside her again fast and hard, making her buck off the mattress. She clamped her hands on his head and said, “I want your mouth on me, too.”

“Show me where.”

His dark tone made her entire body coil. Or maybe it was the way he was pushing in and out of her, each time hitting that spot inside just perfectly to make her gasp. But she wanted more, and she knew he wouldn’t give it to her unless she played along. So she let go of his hair and slipped her hand between her legs.

She watched how he stared at it so intently. First she let her fingers caress his hand, still pumping slowly and deeply. But her orgasm hovered so close, she couldn’t hold back. She dragged her index finger through her wetness, right where she wanted his mouth.

“Again,” he ordered, watching like a hawk.

“You’re so pushy,” she replied, but she did it anyway. Not going to cut off her nose to spite her face—not now. She rubbed herself up and down, feeling it build.

His tongue followed her finger, and her eyes flew open wide on a gasp. He did it again—and again—lapping her finger and around it. The incidental glancing caresses drove her insane. Panting, she held his head close even while she continued to rub herself. “Harder.”

One finger became two, and the friction was delicious. It felt like he was trying to touch her core—her heart—and combined with the duet of her fingers and his mouth, a massive orgasm rolled over her. Distantly she heard herself cry out.

It seemed to go on forever, but finally the earthquakes settled into minor trembling. She realized she was still gripping him—tight—and she let him go with a small murmur.

His tongue circled her one last slow, shuddering time before he placed a kiss on her hip. “Okay?”

Closing her eyes, she laughed weakly.
Okay
was such an understatement. “Why? Can you do better than that?”

“Perhaps.”

She felt him slide up her body and lay next to her. She was so boneless she couldn’t move anything more than her fingers, which she rested on his muscular thigh. “I may need to see that. I doubt I’ll live through it, but at least I’d die a very happy woman.”

Max tucked her so he spooned her back. His hand roamed possessively over her breasts, idly skimming over the tips. “Are you sleepy?”

Stretched languidly into his caress, she felt his erection prod her butt. Only as she shimmied against it, she couldn’t repress a yawn. “Not if you want to try making me very happy.”

“Sleep now,” he whispered into her ear, smoothing her hair back. “I’ll make you happy later.”

She smiled lazily and cuddled against him. “I must be really sleepy, because I swear I just heard you make a joke.”

His arms felt so comforting, she started to drift off. So she wasn’t sure if she dreamed it or if he actually murmured, “The only joke here is on me.”

H
e was going to hell.

Max looked down at the angel in his arms. Tucking her hair behind her ear, he traced a finger down her soft cheek to that beguiling mouth that had driven him insane.

Correction: he was going to hell after a short detour through heaven.

But what had him reeling was the way he’d almost lost control of
j
n ch’i.
For a moment, it had burst from his body and mingled in her. She’d felt it—he’d seen that in her eyes—even if she didn’t know what it was.

He hadn’t lost control of
j
n ch’i
ever. Not even when he’d just received his scroll and powers.

The scroll was still under the bed. He could feel its pull through all the layers separating them. Uncomfortable. His birthmark itched at its closeness, and—

Max stilled at a faint noise, turning to look out the windows to the balcony. It seemed to come from outside.

There it was again—a light scrape.

Common sense told him he was overreacting, but intuition insisted he get up to check. He eased Carrie off his shoulder and padded to the windows. As he reached for the latch, a dark figure vaulted onto the balcony. Max recognized him—the same prowler from last week.

Shock rooted them in place for a second before they both jumped to action. The intruder grabbed the railing and hopped over as Max slid open the glass door.

Picturing the railing twist, he drew his chi and unleashed. With a sharp creak, the metal snapped and cuffed over the intruder’s hand.

A masked head popped up and met his gaze over the barrier.

Max felt the anger and determination in the bastard’s dark gaze. “Who are you?” he demanded, striding forward.

The prowler growled, teeth glaring white in the darkness, and tugged on his hand.

Max’s gaze narrowed, and he focused his chi to tighten the bond. The bastard was going to tell him why he was after Carrie.

But with a low grunt, the intruder yanked his hand from the twisted iron and scrambled back down over the edge.

Damn it.
Max hurried to the railing and looked down in time to see the prowler drop the remaining ten feet. Rolling out of the fall, he jumped to his feet and swiftly ran away.

Max gripped the metal, feeling it bend under his rigid hold. He waited until the night—and
j
n ch’i
—calmed again before untwisting the railing to its former shape and slipping back into Carrie’s room.

She was still asleep. Blindly, foolishly, trustingly asleep.

He stared down at her. He’d felt her, filled her—tasted her. Her innocence wasn’t an act. He didn’t know why she took the scroll and the journal, but it wasn’t because of any evil intent on her part. There wasn’t an evil bone in her body.