Shadow Flight

by Christine Feehan

  Nicoletta felt his eyes on her. She liked him watching her. She had always liked the way he focused so completely on her. He made her feel beautiful even when she’d never believed in herself. Now, she felt her nipples peak. Her breasts ached. Between her legs she grew damp and needy. It was okay because she was safe with him. She loved him all the more for making her feel it was all right to explore being sensual and not worry that she was going too far or teasing him and then refusing to go any further. Taviano didn’t seem to put any limits on her—or expectations.

  He didn’t hurry her or insist. She knew if she crawled off the bed and got into his lap it would be okay and they’d try another day. Instead, she boldly unbuttoned her blouse, one little pearl button at a time. At first she was breathless. Scared. Then she slowed down and felt daring. Then she met his eyes and felt sexy. She let the material slide from her shoulders down to the duvet.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she reached to the front of her bra where the little hooks were and quickly lifted them to spill her generous breasts free. She didn’t look at him but at the woods where the wind was playing through the leaves, stirring them up, lifting them, the way her breathing was lifting her breasts.

  “You have such a beautiful, feminine form. Truly beautiful, tesoro. Look down and see my mark on you. I love seeing it on you. If you were ever to be painted in the nude, I would want my mark on your breast, just like that.”

  She couldn’t help it. She had already looked in the mirror a dozen times at it. She looked down at the dark reddish slash that declared she was his. Her hand crept under her breast to lift the soft weight higher, while her fingers traced the mark lovingly. A fresh flood of liquid heat formed between her legs and she wanted to rub her thighs together at the pulsing there.

  With one hand, Taviano loosened his tie and then removed it. She liked that. She liked that just looking at her made him shift in his chair. She could see the bulge in the front of his trousers, and she liked that she had put that there. So far, panic hadn’t crept in, but he was across the room from her and he’d given his word that she was safe. Taviano always kept his word.

  “You ready for the next step or do you want to stop here?”

  She ached inside. She ached for both of them. Her heart raced, but that was to be expected. All the while they’d sat through the meeting, Taviano’s hand had been in her hair or at the back of her neck. Sometimes he had touched her thigh. Or her arm. She’d been so acutely aware of him. Mostly, she’d kept thinking about his declaration, that he was going to devour her. Eat her like candy. She wanted that. She wanted to experience what other women had. And she wanted to experience it with him. Just the thought had her aching so much between her thighs that she shook her head without thinking.

  She took a deep breath and leapt off the cliff. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Lie back and take off your skirt and then your panties. Just lie in the sun for a few minutes and feel it on your skin. Let me look at you.”

  Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. Could she do that? Could she do that for both of them? Was she that brave? She didn’t have to take off her skirt. Taviano wasn’t forcing her. He wasn’t commanding her. There was no demand in his voice. She asked. He answered. She could pretend she was sunbathing in the nude. She’d done it before. More than once she’d done it. She’d been completely alone in Lucia’s fenced backyard and she’d taken her clothes off in order to prove to herself she was that brave and to check if the pull of the shadows was greater without her clothes on, although she’d been so scared she’d only managed to make herself put her foot into the shadows.

  Tentatively, while still on her knees, she shimmied the skirt down her hips, taking her underwear with it. When she brought them over her thighs, she turned sideways so she could slip them over her knees and down her legs to remove them. She was totally nude but not lying down. If she did, she would have to choose whether to lie down so her body faced him or not.

  It was terrifying. Yet thrilling. Sexy as all hell because it was Taviano. He didn’t say a single word. It was her choice. She hated and loved that it was her choice—that he gave her that. If he didn’t, she couldn’t possibly have gone through with it, but because he sat very still, a distance away from her, utterly silent with the exception of his steady breathing, she was able to match her breathing to his and slowly stretch her body across that amazing duvet.

  The moment her skin slid over the soft fibers, they stroked her like fingers, adding to the already sensual sensation every cell in her body was on fire with. She tried not to squirm or rub herself all over the duvet. It was difficult not to move, and she found herself, as she bathed in the light, feeling as though a spotlight shone directly on her. She couldn’t help moving subtly, letting the duvet send little sparks of electricity dancing through her bloodstream.

  “Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?”

  His voice floated to her on those beams of sunshine. She could see her breasts rising and falling, and she found the sight sexy, when she’d never thought of herself that way. She was connected with Taviano, and maybe some of his thoughts had crept into her mind, but for whatever reason, that added to the need rising in her like a tidal wave.

  “So sexy. I want you to see me as someone beautiful and sexy. Someone desirable.”

  The chair creaked as he rose and walked slowly toward her. Ordinarily, it was impossible to hear a Ferraro walking, but he came across the floor deliberately making sounds. She turned her head to look at him, to watch him come to her.

  Taviano was barefoot, his shirt off, wearing only his trousers. His upper body was all muscle and he looked powerful. So much more so than any man she’d ever been around. When he moved, muscles rippled, from his thick chest all the way to the vee disappearing into the pinstriped material of his slacks.

  He didn’t stop, he just kept walking until he was at the bottom of the bed and then he put a knee on it and was right there, his mouth on hers, kissing her until she couldn’t think, couldn’t be afraid of anything, because he transported her back into that wonder world of pure sensuality.

  He lifted his head and smiled at her, his blue eyes staring directly into hers. “I love you beyond all reason, Nicoletta Ferraro. You are my sanity.”

  He brushed kisses over her chin and then his palm fit around her throat like a collar. So gentle. Loose. Her heart beat into his hand. She knew they both felt it. The hand slid down the valley between her breasts to her belly, where it stopped, fingers splayed wide.

  “Someday, tesoro, our baby will be right here. I’ve thought of that so many times.”

  He slid lower on the bed while he framed her flat stomach with both hands, brushing kisses over her skin until she thought she might burst into flames. She hadn’t known she was sensitive there. His strong white teeth suddenly nipped her, stinging, and her hips bucked as her sex clenched hard, a wild spasm of need, and her clit throbbed and pulsed, so inflamed she thought she would spontaneously combust.

  “Taviano.” She hissed his name.

  His arm locked over her thighs, holding her to the bed while he licked at the sting. “I like to put my mark on you. It pleases me to look at it. Or just to know it’s there beneath your clothing.”

  “I’m on fire.” It came out a wail. She hadn’t intended to sound so . . . desperate, but she was. Desperate was the only adjective she could think of. He was making her desperate for him. For something. For anything. But he had to do it soon or she might not survive.

  “Are you? For me? Are you on fire for me, Nicoletta?” His palm slid over her belly as he moved lower on the bed, then right off of it. She felt his movements more than saw them because she’d slung her arm over her eyes. Her hips were uncontrollable now, sliding shamelessly over the duvet, bucking, desperate for relief only Taviano could give her.

  “Yes.” Her breath hissed out in a long, painful admission
.

  His long, very strong fingers slid through her dark curls and found the betraying dampness she couldn’t hide. He stroked caresses there and then his hands were on her thighs, pulling them apart. She felt the air, now cool on her hot entrance. She wanted to protest the way her thighs were spread so far apart, the way she was so open to him, but then his tongue ran up the inside of her right thigh and a dark moan slipped out instead of a protest.

  The sensation of that velvet tongue lapping at her thigh, coupled with the rasp of the bristles on his jaw, built that terrible coiling pressure to an almost brutal need. She couldn’t have protested if she wanted to. She needed more. She needed Taviano to do exactly as he’d promised, no matter the cost. She wanted to be devoured and eaten like candy. She wanted him to send her tumbling over the edge into a freefall. She could only hope that he would catch her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Taviano listened to the singsong sob hitching in Nicoletta’s ragged breathing. It was difficult to keep himself under control enough to pay attention to minute details, but he reminded himself it was necessary. She tasted like heaven. He knew she would. His woman. Dio, but she was perfect for him in every way.

  He took his time, savoring the liquid honey on her thighs, easing closer and closer to the heat emanating from her entrance. He put his mark there, several of them, on either side, both left and right. Strawberries with his teeth marks. Her gasps and groans, the addicting cream he captured in his mouth when he gave her those little reminders of who she was married to, made him feel a bit like a caveman.

  Nicoletta was his woman. His. He had felt alone for so long. No one knew him. No one had ever accepted the real him. He knew that wasn’t fair to his siblings, because chances were they would have unconditional love for him, but he also knew the knowledge of what had happened to him as a young boy would change their relationship subtly. Nicoletta just loved him.

  Almost from the moment she’d opened her eyes on that plane ride back to Chicago from New York, he had seen the growing adoration in her eyes. She’d tried to hide it. She’d tried to escape him. He’d done everything in his power to encourage it. He’d found he needed her.

  A year into her being with the family, he had gotten to the point that the nights he shared with other women after being in the shadows weren’t nearly as satisfying as they had once been. He didn’t like to be touched. Usually, he fucked a woman hard, was generous with jewelry or his photographs with the media so she could further her career, and then he got away quickly. Now he craved Nicoletta’s touch. He wanted her hands—and her mouth—on him. He wanted his cock buried in her body. And this—he wanted his mouth on her, tasting what belonged to him.

  He was careful at first, lapping at her, suckling, watching her reaction before using his teeth to scrape along her clit and then suckle more. He used his tongue ruthlessly like a cock, stroking and caressing, fucking her, and then loving her. She writhed wildly, so he locked her down with his arm, his mouth doing exactly what he’d promised: devouring her.

  Her hands found his hair, fisting there. At times she pulled on his scalp, the pain adding to the sensations whipping through his body like lightning strikes straight to his cock. She wasn’t quiet, and he loved hearing her moans and her cries. The little sob in her voice as he took her up further and further and then backed off. She was so ready, but he hated to stop. He didn’t want to lose this moment of intimacy with her. He might never get it back.

  Her body shuddered and he put one hand on her belly, fingers wide to feel the tension coiling so tightly there. She was fighting the sensations, afraid now, near panicked at that pleasure spilling through her, fear creeping in at the unknown.

  He added his fingers, curling one deep, stroking the little bundle of nerves while he worked her clit with his teeth and tongue. “Now, amore mio, let go. Just let go. I’m right here with you. You have to trust someone. Let that someone be me.” He kept his voice gentle when he wanted to growl like a wild animal. His own body was making demands, so hard, full and painful, he feared he might make a fool of himself like some hapless teenager. He used his tongue, fluttering, probing, lapping, all the while keeping up that persistent stroking.

  He knew the exact moment she chose to surrender to him. To give herself to him fully. To trust her body to him. One moment her entire body was shuddering, fighting the need to come, the tension in her making her almost rigid, and then she just gave in, relaxing, breathing, letting her body take over.

  The orgasm swept through her like a tidal wave. Strong. Powerful. Sending shock waves through her. He felt ripples through her belly and down her thighs. He lapped at the hot liquid and then suckled, drawing that sweet honey out with his tongue so he could have more. He knew he should stop—her gift of trust to him was a tremendous one—but he couldn’t quite relinquish his place between her thighs. Not yet. Not when her taste was so addictive.

  He sent another orgasm crashing through her and then a third. She screamed through the third one, and when he licked at her, she nearly sobbed his name, jerking at his hair. He lifted his head. “Are you too sensitive for more, because I love this. I could do this all night.”

  He watched her face. She wanted this as much as he did. He could see the beauty there, the pleasure, the triumph. When he ducked his head and lapped at her again, he got the same reaction. The fist in his hair jerked hard, and this time her hips did the same. Yeah. She was too sensitive to continue.

  Nicoletta flung her arm over her eyes, struggling for breath. “Dio, Taviano. If you kept that up, I think I would have died.”

  He laughed softly and rubbed his face on her thighs before kissing his marks on her. He loved looking at them. His cock hurt like a bear and he needed relief desperately. Any movement made it known that he was going to have to hit the shower soon. He tugged down his zipper and managed to get his trousers off. They didn’t wear underwear in the shadows. It was one less thing to worry about. He took a deep breath the moment he was free of the confining material. He would have liked to climb on the bed with her, but not like this, not naked with his cock standing stiff and demanding. His fist circled the base. He gripped hard. Even that felt good.

  “Taviano.”

  He closed his eyes. Her voice. There was too much temptation, too much seduction, and he was too far gone. He shook his head, but he didn’t step away when she slid off the bed and went to her knees in front of him.

  “Piccola, you did exactly what we’d hoped. We don’t want to ruin it.”

  His fist slid up and down his cock. Dio, it felt good. He gripped harder, looking down at her mouth. Those lips. There was a faint mark on her lower lip where he’d bitten her. The thought of his cock in her hot mouth, his hand on her throat while she swallowed his come, all the while looking into his eyes—that would be sexy.

  He dropped his gaze to her breasts. His mark was there as well. He could pump his cock and empty himself all over those beautiful breasts. Rub his essence into her like lotion. Feed her some with his fingers. Watch it drip from her nipples. The thought made him harder than ever, and drops leaked from the head of his cock.

  He wished her thighs were open so he could see the strawberries he’d put there. Without thinking, he touched her knee with his foot, nudging just a little, his gaze still on her face. Her lashes fluttered, but her gaze remained on his fist sliding, pumping his cock. That fact that she watched him made him hotter than hell. She opened her knees wide and there was the evidence of his claiming, the bright chains of strawberries. She was slick; that addicting cream was all his.

  Her hand brushed his heavy sac and desire shot through him like an arrow. She stroked and squeezed gently and then her mouth was there, licking and tracing every tight seam with her tongue. His breath caught in his throat. He knew he should stop her, but her hand was back, fingers splayed wide, and she was jiggling his sac. It felt as if the massaging waves rose in slow motion from his balls to the base
of his cock, and then spread in a pounding ecstasy through his cock. He’d never felt anything quite like it.

  “Dio, Nicoletta, you’re killing me, tesoro.”

  A heartbeat went by. Two. Suddenly the gentle massage was gone, and she was doing something completely different, her fingers deftly rotating his large balls in her palm, at least it felt like that was what she was doing. That sent streaks of fire racing up his cock. Fast. The flames licked along the base, rushed along the shaft, burned under and then over the crown until he wanted to throw back his head and roar.

  She moved then, her mouth sipping and then suckling at his balls, working her way up to the base of his cock. Her tongue flicked over his fist, teased between his fingers and then curled along his shaft. His heart nearly stopped as her eyes met his. His breath was instantly trapped in his lungs. He didn’t know what he expected to see in her eyes, but it wasn’t dark desire. It wasn’t stark lust. It wasn’t raw love. All three of those emotions were there, mingled together. Her gaze, her expression, was hot.

  She licked her lips so that they gleamed at him. The little bite mark on her lower lip glistened. He couldn’t help himself. He rubbed the head of his cock over the mark, deliberately leaving drops behind. Her tongue came out, licked slowly, sensuously, along her lower lip until she’d lapped up every bit. Never once did her gaze leave his.

  “I want more.”

  “I think you’re getting greedy.” He loved teasing her.

  “You took so much.” She pouted, the lower lip coming out even more.

  Dio, he was going to come just looking at her. More hot seed bubbled up like lava. Her tongue glided up his shaft. Featherlight. Just the tip. She flicked the vee beneath his crown over and over and then licked at the leaking drops as if they were her favorite ice cream. He didn’t reprimand her. She was already back at his shaft, using the blade of her tongue, pressing into him, varying the pressure from one side to the other, until he was struggling to find his breath again. Her tongue was a wicked weapon and she wielded it with complete confidence.