Shadow Flight

by Christine Feehan

  Once Benito Valdez had spotted her, her life had become worse. Her step-uncles hadn’t wanted to give her up, and he had become obsessed with acquiring her. In an effort to appease him, they had “shared” her on more than one occasion. He was every bit as brutal as they were, wanting to show her ownership and teach her lessons by beating other women in front of her and selling them into trafficking to show her what could happen to her if she didn’t cooperate with him. All of that had contributed to making her feel very worthless and dirty. It had taken Taviano to shake her up and make her remember who she was and where she came from.

  Nicoletta looked down at his sleeping face. Even with the privacy screens, she could see him well enough to appreciate the definition, the sheer power and raw masculinity in his bone structure. He was a beautiful man. Each time she looked at him, he moved her. Deep inside she always felt that shift, that wave of love that was so overwhelming it left her frozen, unable to move or speak at times. He didn’t know how extraordinary he was.

  Taviano Ferraro gave her everything. He might have gotten angry with her at times when she hurt herself, back when she was so out of control, but he was the one sitting on her bed when she woke from her nightmares. He was the one holding her when she cried. He came back night after night, even when she punched him and told him she didn’t want him around because she was so ashamed. He never turned away from her. Never. His love for her seemed unconditional. She knew her love for him was.

  She rested her chin on the top of her knees and kept her eyes on his face. That beautiful face she loved so much. She wanted to be normal for him, yet he’d never asked her to be normal. He’d never indicated in any way that it was important to him. He hadn’t tried to hurry her or push her into having sex with him. No matter how many erections he got around her, he never asked her to take care of him. She had been the one to initiate the only time she’d done it, and even then, he had resisted at first, telling her she didn’t have to.

  A part of her had insisted at first because she did fear he would want to have sex, and she knew she wasn’t ready. That hadn’t been fair to him. She didn’t want to be like that. He was so completely casual about communicating with her on all subjects, sex included. She needed to give him that same courtesy. She loved him so much. She didn’t want to disappoint him—or, if she was honest, lose him. She was so afraid she would have a panic attack the moment they really had sex.

  She pressed her lips together to keep from making a sound. She wanted him. Her body wanted his. So badly. So much. She couldn’t sleep with wanting him. Waking next to him, inhaling that sandalwood scent that was uniquely his, sent her body into a slow burn that kept building until she felt like there were flames licking over her skin. In her veins ran thick lava, hot as hell, spreading through her entire body to pool low, a sinful heat. The temperature kept rising until little beads of sweat dotted her forehead and ran down the valley between her breasts. That was how much she wanted him.

  He was right there. All she had to do was reach for him. It would be that simple. She was slick with need. Her breasts ached. Her clit pulsed with the blood pounding through it. She pressed her thighs together to try to calm the desperate craving for him. It would never go away. Every time she looked at him it was there. It had been almost since the moment she’d laid eyes on him, even back when her body had repressed every sexual reaction. For Taviano, there was still a reaction, a response, it was just buried deep, barely known, but it was there.

  With the passing years, as she had been in closer proximity to him and she had grown to understand she was safe, her body had been free to respond. With that, the heat had matured, become a fire, then a firestorm, and now was just a conflagration burning out of control. She didn’t have the first clue what to do about it.

  “Nicoletta?” Taviano opened his eyes.

  It was the last thing she wanted. He was instantly alert, frowning. Sitting up, concern on his face.

  “Tesoro, tell me.” His thumbs brushed at tears she hadn’t known were even on her face.

  She couldn’t lie to him. She never wanted lies between them. She shook her head. “Go back to sleep, I’m just trying to think things through.”

  He looked her over, taking in too much. He framed her face with his hands. Her heart turned over. “Taviano.” He always saw her. He always would. There was no hiding from him.

  He leaned over her raised knees and brushed kisses over her eyes. So gentle. The touch of his cool, firm lips sent little shock waves rippling through every cell in her body. His tongue caught at her tears, taking them from her face. He kissed his way down one side of her face, following the path of her tears, and then the other, right to the corners of her mouth.

  Her breath caught in her throat. The way he touched her was reverent. So different. Such contrast. So loving. Then his mouth was on hers, kissing her. Sweeping her away in the way he did, that slow gentle start, coaxing her to open her mouth for him. She parted her lips because it was Taviano and she wanted his fire. She wanted to feel the heat and possession. The safety and love that came with the flames that burned every time he kissed her.

  Then she couldn’t think, only feel, her body melting into his, legs sliding down the mattress, his arm behind her back locking her to him. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back, her tongue dueling and dancing with his. There were the familiar flames engulfing her, the burn that began in her throat and traveled through her body to pool into a steady pulsing need that refused to leave. Desire grew and grew until her hips bucked restlessly, seeking relief.

  Taviano’s hand cupped her left breast, his thumb stroking her nipple, and she arched her back, desperate for more. His mouth left hers and he kissed his way down her throat to the top of her right breast, all the while stroking and flicking the left nipple. His touch sent shock waves through her, each harder and more intense than the last. Her breath turned ragged. She’d never quite felt the sensations he was producing, and she wanted more.

  His mouth closed over her breast and he sucked hard, using his tongue on her nipple while he tugged and rolled on her left nipple just a little harder. Now the waves rolled through her like a storm. She could barely catch her breath. She never wanted it to stop. The tension deep inside coiled tighter and tighter. She grew slicker and hotter. So hot.

  He switched his attention to the other breast, his tongue swirling gently around her left nipple before his mouth closed over her breast. He began that tugging and rolling sensation on her other nipple, interspersing rough and gentle so she couldn’t quite catch any rhythm. It was so perfect. So unbelievably perfect. But she needed more. She needed him.

  His mouth left her breast and he began to kiss his way down her belly. She caught his head in both hands. He raised his gaze to her face. Her heart accelerated at the absolute love she saw there.

  “I want you to make love to me.”

  “I am making love to you, Nicoletta,” he said softly. “Don’t you feel it?”

  “Every time you touch me, I feel it. I want you inside me.”

  He went very still. “You have to be certain, amore mio. You have to be ready. Don’t say that because you want to do it for me.”

  “For both of us. If it doesn’t work this time, I know it will be all right.” She poured confidence into her voice. Her fingers slipped into his thick hair and held there. She wished they weren’t trembling, but there was no way to control the fear rising.

  It wasn’t fear of Taviano but of failing him. Of failing both of them. Of letting her step-uncles win. She was already afraid of being pinned down and looking for a way to escape.

  Taviano pressed a kiss into her belly button and rolled over. “Come here, piccola. Be my beautiful little cowgirl.”

  She turned her head and looked at him, one eyebrow up, but she was used to doing what Taviano wanted, so she was already sitting up. “Your cowgirl?”

  He caught her l
eg and tugged. “Ride me.”

  He looked enormous. One hand was casually fisting the base of his cock, the other tugging her leg over him so she would straddle his body.

  “You might be a little intimidating, Taviano,” she admitted, but she wanted him inside of her. She needed him there.

  For the first time in her life, this was her choice. He made that very clear. No one was holding her down. He simply waited for her to decide, stroking himself, his eyes on her face, so much love shining at her it was close to worship.

  She straddled him, sliding her body over his, her entrance slick and throbbing with desire so profound she shook. The moment he was pressed against her, that thick, velvet-steel crown, she hesitated, fear gripping her. He didn’t move, just his fist, a lazy pump up and down, his gaze never leaving her face.

  “You’re so damn beautiful, Nicoletta. Sometimes, when I would come to your bedroom, I swear I could barely breathe when I looked at you. Now, without your clothes on . . .” He reached up and touched her nipple gently. “You’re so gorgeous.” His hand slid to her belly. “Someday, our child will be right here, and you’ll ride me, just like this, and I’ll get to see how beautiful my woman looks when she’s carrying my baby and is about to come apart for me.”

  His voice was velvet soft. Compelling. So beautiful. He never pressured her. He never tried to get her to move, but she desperately wanted to. She pressed down and took the heat of the large thick crown into her body. She gasped as he invaded, pushing into her, spreading her open, touching so many nerve endings. It felt so good. It was exhilarating and yet terrifying at the same time.

  Still, she was in control. He didn’t so much as push deeper, even though she could see on his face the pleasure spreading through him. She was giving him that. She loved that she was. It gave her courage to continue. She wanted to see that expression deepen. Along with his pleasure, she could see approval, pride in his eyes. She loved that he felt that for her.

  She flexed her hips and pushed down, swallowing more of him. He felt big. Thick. So hot. She forced air through her lungs as she moved her body in little circles, watching his face. His eyes darkened. The lines in his face deepened. She was doing that. She wanted more. She liked seeing the lust for her building in him. It was mixed with love. She could see that so plainly.

  She pushed down, determined to take him deep. She hadn’t considered that doing this would mean taking him so deep. She could feel his natural angle and immediately adjusted her body to angle hers with it, positioning herself so that her hips aligned with his. She began to move, sliding up and down, squeezing him, using her inner muscles, watching his face. Sometimes she rocked. Sometimes she ground down. Other times she did a little spiral. All the while she gained confidence because Taviano loved it all.

  His hands went to her breasts, kneading and massaging, and then his fingers tugged and rolled her nipples so that little streaks of fire raced to her clit. He switched his attention from her breasts to her clit, flicking and teasing until it was inflamed, and she knew she was close. Before she could finish herself off, he caught her hips and stilled her.

  “Try turning around and facing the other way.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Away from you?”

  “That’s right, tesoro, facing away from me. You’re still in control.”

  She wasn’t certain she could do that, although the idea must have somehow appealed to her body because she went even slicker. She could feel the heat. She knew he was letting her know she could trust him in any position. She was in control, but she wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing. If she was on her hands and knees, she wouldn’t be able to see. If she was on her back, he would be pinning her down. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

  Nicoletta refused to give in to panic. She nodded and rose up on her knees, allowing him to help her, his hands on her waist as she slowly turned her back on him, turning, his thick crown swirling just in the mouth of her entrance. It felt so delicious, that slow, sweeping turn. Then she leaned forward in a slow, deliberate sprawl, sliding back down over that hot, steel shaft. The new angle drove her wild. It hit her bundles of nerves from different directions, and each streak as she rode him sent flames raging through her.

  His hands went to her bottom, rubbing over her cheeks. For a moment her heart stopped and then began pounding, but she felt his heart pounding to the same rhythm right through his cock as he began to move with her. She wanted him to move, and she encouraged him. She liked his hands on her cheeks and then when he caught her hips and pressed into her for a few hard upward thrusts.

  Fiery tongues licked over her skin. Flames raged between her legs, threatening to consume her. His finger slid from the nape of her neck and down her spine and stroked between her cheeks, gentle, possessive, all the while his hips thrusting into her. Her breasts bounced and jolted with each thrust.

  “Your clit, piccola, flick your clit now.”

  She obeyed him because it was Taviano and she loved and trusted him with every cell in her body. The moment she did, fire erupted through her, a volcano of sensation. She ground down over him and then she was sobbing his name, her body clamping down on his like a silken vise, a thousand hot, hungry tongues milking him dry, greedy for every drop he could give her. She’d never felt anything like it, wave after wave of pure pleasure rolling through her, consuming her. Taking her. Taking him. It was perfection.

  She lay over him, heart pounding, unable to move, limp and sated. Her lungs refused to work. She couldn’t roll off of him to see if he was alive or if she’d killed him. That was entirely possible.

  Beneath her, his body shook, and then his hand came down on her bottom. “I’m not dead. And I don’t appreciate you thinking you killed me but you weren’t going to check.”

  “Did I say that out loud?” she murmured, still not moving. She didn’t even care that he’d smacked her on the butt. He’d been gentle and he’d rubbed her bottom right away, taking away any possible sting.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I can’t move. I can’t really breathe, so that’s my excuse.”

  He laughed softly. “You’re talking, Nicoletta. If you can talk . . .”

  She waved her hand in the air dismissively, but she did manage to roll off of him to one side of the bed. She almost rolled right onto the floor, but he caught her by the hips and stopped her before she went over. She was that limp, feeling like a rag doll.

  “I’m so in love with you, Taviano,” she murmured. “Just in case I haven’t told you today. You’re the most extraordinary man. I’m lucky to have you and I won’t ever take you for granted.”

  He sat up and kissed her spine, just above her bottom. “You slay me, woman. Every damn time. I’m going to run us a bath. Give me a minute and I’ll come get you.”

  Nicoletta turned her head so she could watch him pad on bare feet to the master bath. He walked naked, with total confidence, the way he did everything else. Every muscle rippled deliciously beneath his skin, and if she wasn’t so exhausted, she would have jumped him all over again. He was that beautiful. And she was that in love with him. What man turned control over to his woman so easily?

  He had made it easy for her to trust him, always a choice. She didn’t have to turn her back on him, but when she did, she’d been rewarded. She knew she would have more confidence if they tried a different position. She wanted to try now. She looked forward to it. She still wasn’t so willing to have him pinning her down on the bed, but on her hands and knees, yeah, she could definitely try that. Just thinking about it had her blood pounding all over again.

  She found herself smiling. She wanted to hug herself, but she still felt a little like a limp dishrag, so she let one arm dangle off the bed and kept her eyes on the master bath. She didn’t want to miss one glimpse of Taviano’s powerful body as he came back for her.

  “You have a smug look on your face,” she
observed, as he prowled across the room toward her, making her heart beat faster. There was no other word for it. Prowled fit. He looked like a great jungle cat about to pounce on her.

  He flashed a grin at her that looked suspiciously like he might just be a predator coming out of the trees. She watched him carefully, wondering if she might have to show him woman power—although it was going to have to be much later, when she got her strength back. How was it that he was up walking around, and she was just wanting to lie there?

  He leaned down and nipped her bottom. She yelped and glared at him, batting ineffectively.

  “Go away. You’re annoying.”

  “I was a god a few minutes ago.”

  “My mind melted. It’s back now. I forgot how really oral you can be. Keep your teeth to yourself. I’m drifting here. Dreaming a little bit. And before you get that goofy look on your face, not about you.”

  “Who else would you be dreaming about but me, woman?” He shifted her, and easily rolled her into his arms before she could protest. His mouth found her neck. “You know you love me, and you think I’m the hottest man in the world. You can’t lie worth a damn, Nicoletta.”

  A little shiver went through her as his teeth scraped and then he sucked on her skin. Every way he touched her seemed erotic. He kissed his way up her neck.

  “I do find you hot, but that’s because I’m a little insane.”

  He bit down on her earlobe. She let out a squeal and smacked him on the chest, glaring. “What did I say to you about your teeth?”

  He just laughed and stepped into the giant bathtub. The water was a degree or two hotter than she liked it, and she let out another squeal and tried to climb out. He kept a firm grip on her.