Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

by Christine Feehan

  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."

  Joley inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her lungs. She did know—and yet she didn't. She had been drawn to him, mesmerized and seduced by him, by his aura and his song. By his magic—his strength. Oh, God, his strength was what she craved more than anything in the world. That absolute confidence, that aggression that pushed her out of her comfort zone, that took her places she had only dreamt of—places she craved but feared. He would take her over and she would fight him every inch of the way. He was going to make her life hell—or heaven.

  She moistened her lips. "Do you think you're going to rule me? Because if you think so, your fantasy is way beyond reality."

  He caught her face between his hands, forcing her toward him. Her startled gaze jumped to his. "Don't start a fight with me, Joley. Not now. We've only got a few hours left together." He leaned down and brushed kisses across her eyelids, the tip of her nose, back and forth across her mouth.

  Alarmed, Joley pushed at the wall of his chest. He was stealing her heart. He'd taken her body and her soul, she wasn't handing him
her heart to destroy as well. He had given her the most fantastic sexual experience of her life, and she knew she would need him again and again. Nothing would ever compare to what she had with him, but it wasn't love-making. She hadn't felt that he was loving her. Possessing her—claiming her—yes. Owning her even, but not loving her, and she could be addicted, she could let him rule her in bed, but she refused, absolutely refused, to hand her heart to a man who might be involved in terrible things.

  "Yes," he said softly, kissing her again.

  Small, caressing kisses that left her feeling helpless against the onslaught of tenderness. "I won't let you."

  He knew what she was afraid of. She could feel him in her mind, touching her inside where there was no way to stop him. He had marked her everywhere, all over her skin, and now he was leaving his mark on the inside.

  "It's already too late," he whispered, trailing kisses along her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth.

  She was melting inside. Butterfly wings all over again. She wasn't just getting wet and needy, she craved his touch, his voice, the scent of him, but most of all she wanted him to feel that same frightening vulnerability that for her just seemed to grow worse around him.

  His hands stroked her skin, memorizing every inch of her, and all the while he whispered to her of faraway places, of being a boy in a cold, hard land, of belonging to her and only her. She could hear the strains of his song wrapping her up in haunting notes, holding her close while she drifted—drifted—on a tide of sex and sin and the fragile beginnings of love.

  She went to sleep to the soft murmur of his voice, and woke to the sensual enticement of it only an hour later. He was already hard and moving inside her, his kiss taking her breath while his hands shaped her breasts.

  In the tour buses, the trip from Red Rocks to Dallas took a little over fourteen hours. Ilya woke her over and over, until Joley thought she would have to crawl to make it to the shower to relieve the aches in her sore body. He carried her and took her hard and fast up against the wall. Once they rolled off the bed, and he just took her there on the floor. They tried to eat, and he put her on the small table and ate her instead, until she was sobbing for release, and then he sank into her, first with her lying on the table and then bending her over it.

  When the bus finally pulled into their space and stopped, and Steve had called to tell her he was going to bed, Joley sat on the floor, her legs drawn up, head back against her mattress, clutching a blanket around her naked body. Ilya sat beside her, holding a bottle of water so she could sip it.

  "Are you all right?"

  Joley looked at him, his body fit, the long, thick length of him semi-hard against the strong column of his thigh. "You're a freakin' sex machine, Ilya. Nobody can do that. Nobody. You're either downing Viagra by the bottle or you're a cyborg."

  He shrugged his shoulders, slipped an arm under her legs and lifted her back onto the bed, placing her close to the wall so he could wrap his body around hers. "I was trained to stay hard no matter what, to ride a woman for hours if need be, to pleasure her and never let it affect me. But in the end, angel moya, all that training is for nothing with you. No matter how many times I have you, how many ways I take you, it is never enough for me. I should be sated, unmoved by what we share, and yet I'm addicted to you and cannot get enough of you."

  She was exhausted beyond anything she'd ever known but… "Ilya." She frowned, sliding her arms around his neck. "What do you mean, trained? Sexually trained? How? How can someone train you? And where?"

  He was silent, and she sensed—knew—he was uncomfortable and wished he could take the revelation back. She held her breath waiting. For the first time she felt he was as vulnerable and naked as she was.

  "I was trained in a lot of things, Joley."

  "They hurt you, didn't they?" She guessed.

  She had seen scars on his body, felt them under her fingertips; she'd caught glimpses of a young man huddled in a corner with blood running down his back and legs. Now she knew for certain it was Ilya. The glimpses of violence, the black aura—there was so much she didn't know, but she was beginning to get small pieces that fit together forming a very ugly picture.

  "Don't. We're not going there, Joley."

  Her hands framed his face and she kissed him gently, her stomach fluttering, her heart reaching for his. Ilya caught her by her shoulders and yanked her back down to the mattress. "I said no. Don't you pity me."

  Fury flashed through her. He had spent hours—hours—keeping her vulnerable and forcing her to confront her own failings and needs, her own fears, but he refused to share any part of himself with her. She was so angry her body trembled. She dropped her hands immediately, fingers curling into two tight fists.

  As she stared up at his handsome face, his ice-cold eyes, the anger drained away. Her breath hitched in her throat, the lump there nearly choking her. Her chest hurt, was too tight, a piercing pain tearing through her heart. He had rejected her again. She could tell herself forever that it had been just sex for her, but she knew better. She had thought he was everything, but he had pushed her away and refused to give anything of himself to her. All his talk was just that—talk. Survival counted now, more than anything she had to survive.

  What if he had done what he'd been trained to do? Maybe Nikitin had ordered him to screw her. Well, he'd done a good job. He could go to the tabloids and say he'd screwed a celebrity. She had never felt so betrayed, so ashamed or so stupid. The pain was physical.

  She did the only thing possible, she pulled herself back from the brink of that terrible precipice she'd almost gone over. She had to walk away now. This instant. Withdraw and hold a part of herself to her, protected and sheltered, in order to stay alive. He'd taken everything else from her, and she doubted she'd ever get it back, but she wasn't going to give him her life.

  She would cry. She would be lonely. She would feel empty forever, but she could survive if she pulled away.

  "Joley."

  Ilya sensed her withdrawal. Of course he would. He knew her inside and out. He couldn't help but realize she was moving away from him. She did her best to cover.

  "No. You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried." She turned onto her side. "I've only got a couple of hours to sleep and then I'll be working. When you leave, please don't wake me up."

  "Joley, you're angry with me."

  "No, I'm just very tired." And she wasn't angry. She was empty. Not even sorrow could fill her emptiness. She would say whatever he needed to hear so he would go and she would be safe. She flashed a fake smile at him and closed her eyes, waiting for him to leave her.

  Chapter 11

  "JOLEY. Wake up. Wake up, honey."

  Joley groaned and squeezed her eyes closed tighter. "Go away."

  There were whispers. She heard them from a distance and tried to turn her head to see who was disturbing her. Her body felt heavy and cumbersome and her eyelids barely opened. Tish and Brian huddled together over the bed. Jerry stood at her table with the shreds of two white packets in his hands.

  Joley?

  Ilya's voice shredded her heart. That perfect pitch. No one had such a perfect, heartbreaking tone. She closed her eyes and pulled the covers over her head. She couldn't hear him or see him. She needed to stay asleep where he couldn't get to her to destroy her further.

  "Joley, what the hell did you take?" Jerry pushed Brian and Tish aside and crouched by the bed, shaking her. "What did you take?" He dipped a finger into the envelope and tasted it, scowled and handed it to Brian.

  "She doesn't do drugs," Brian said, repeating the same action and tasting the powder.

  "She took something," Jerry snapped. "Joley, what the fuck have you done? I swear you'd better tell me or I'm calling a fucking ambulance right now. Get her up. Walk her up and down the bus. Get some water on her face. What did you take?"

  Joley frowned at them, forcing her lashes to lift. "Go away. I'm sleeping."

  "You're getting up," Jerry decreed. "I don't ex
pect this kind of drama from you, Joley. Denny maybe, but not you. What the hell did you take?"

  Her mouth felt like cotton. "I can't take drugs. You know that. They don't work on my body. They just make me sick." She rolled over and stared at the ceiling, keeping the comforter wrapped tightly around her body.

  Tish took the packet from Brian and sat on the edge of the bed. "What is this, honey?"

  "Hannah made it up for me. I'm only supposed to use one envelope, but I couldn't sleep so I took two—and it worked." She glared up at Jerry. "Until you decided to barge in."

  "What's in it?" Jerry demanded, relief making his voice gruff.

  "I don't know. She grows all that stuff. She's like supergardener, and all her powders and creams work." Joley put her hand over her eyes. "Did you have to raise all the screens?"

  "Only two," Brian said. "I'm getting you something to eat. I'll be right back."

  "Get her moving, Tish," Jerry said and awkwardly patted Joley's head.

  Tish waited until the men had left and shut the door. "You're covered in bruises, Joley, you have marks all over your body. What happened? Do you need a doctor?"

  Marks all over her? Ilya's marks. Inside and out. She could feel him touching her, whispering to her, his breath warm against her skin, his hands like magic. She pulled the comforter closer to hold the marks tight against her skin. The absolute compassion and caring in Tish's voice was her undoing. Tears burned in her eyes and clogged her throat. She shook her head. "I'm all right. Nothing bad happened. I was just stupid, the way I'm always stupid."

  "You're never stupid, Joley. You might be attracted to the wrong men, but you're careful. You know to keep a distance."