He kissed his way back up the slope of her breast, her throat, nibbled on her chin and took her mouth again, needing to catch one of those soft little moans and swallow it. Her mouth was like velvet, but so hot he thought he might burn there forever. Her nails bit into his shoulders, scored down his back, and she went a little wild against him. He loved that no one else had kissed her. He knew they hadn't the moment her tongue danced so shyly with his. She was only for him. Made for him. Her body's reaction was real. For him. He loved that. Needed it like a man starving.
She shuddered. Trembled. He deepened the kiss and slowly began to walk her backward toward his bed. He wanted to take her against the wall, right there, or the floor, anywhere at all, but this first time had to be the bed and he had to find it in him to be gentle. To keep the brutal need, so stark and raw, from swallowing them both alive.
"Unbutton my jeans," he ordered against her mouth. He didn't stop kissing her. He couldn't. He was fairly certain if someone were stupid enough to walk in on them and stop him, their life would be in danger. He needed. It felt good to need. The vicious ache in his cock felt good because it was real. More, even better, she wiped away the long years of emptiness, the dark, ugly memories of living day to day in other roles with the sole purpose of killing. She took all of that away and replaced that darkness with her fire. With her skin, and the hot pleasure of her mouth. The promise of paradise in her body. Real paradise. Not the unemotional detachment and discipline his body was forced to perform when touching a woman.
Her hands didn't just drop from his shoulders, she moved them down his body, branding him with her touch. Little flames seemed to dance over him. The room temperature went up along with the heat centering in his cock. His heavy erection pressed so tight against his jeans he was afraid the material would burst - or melt.
Her palms continued down his body, gliding over his skin, lingering until he wanted to take command, but at the same time, with her feeding his natural hunger, the craving and anticipation grew in him, and he loved that. Loved he could feel so intensely. Her hands dropped to the waistband of his jeans riding low on his hips. She didn't fumble, but she did tremble. Emotion burst through him. A desire to protect her. To hold her to him and keep her safe from everything and everyone - even him.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and dropped his hands over hers. "Giacinta."
She looked up at him with her incredible blue eyes. He tried not to fall. Not to drown in all that blue. "I'm Lissa now. My sisters don't know me as Giacinta. I haven't told them yet, but if I get back to them, I will."
He nodded. Understanding. "In this bedroom, I'm Casimir and you're Giacinta. We have to be real. And you have to know what I am. The things I've done. Not once, but many, many times."
She continued to look up at him for a very long moment. An eternity while time stood still for him. His blood thundered in his ears. Need pulsed in his cock. His entire being centered on her. Her lips began a slow curve. She ducked her head. Shook it. Her hands, beneath his, began to work on the buttons of his jeans, slowly, one by one, with his hands covering hers, opening them.
"Do you know what I've done, Casimir? You were there today, with Belsky. You knew I was there playing my role of Patrice Lungren. Patrice is still me when she goes after targets."
His jeans were open and her hands went to the waistband. Inside. Palms against his bare skin, thumbs hooked in the band. Her head tipped back and she looked up at him. Shyness, yes. Fear, no. She began to slowly divest him of his jeans and underwear. Her hands slid over his hips, down his thighs. She crouched, taking them lower to his ankles. He dropped a hand on her shoulder and lifted one leg at a time until he was stark naked, and his cock was harder and fuller than it had ever been.
She stood up, slowly, her hands on either side of his thighs, burning a brand there while her eyes locked on his cock. She stared at the length and thickness of his erection. She was close enough that he felt her breasts skimming against him. Hard little points that beckoned. Soft, lush curves that he craved to get his mouth around. His tongue on. His teeth. She was short enough that when she bent her head, he felt the breath of her on his broad, velvet crown. Small droplets leaked out. Her tongue swept the full curve of her lower lip.
Instantly every fantasy he'd ever had about her mouth flooded his mind. His cock jerked. As if mesmerized, her hands moved up his thighs, gliding over the muscles there, claiming him before they moved inward, cupping his heavy sac. His breath left his lungs in a rush. His mind slipped further into chaos. Into need. Into a place he'd never experienced. A fire roared. Threatened to break free and run wild.
He didn't stop her. He couldn't do that. He didn't have that kind of strength, when he'd been so certain he was stronger than any man alive, other, perhaps, than his brothers. He'd been sure he was more disciplined, had more control. All that was swept away by her small, delicate hands and her touch that burned through skin, straight to bone.
"You have to know what you're doing, Lissa. We do this, you give yourself to me, there's no taking it back. Not once it's done. You have to understand that. I get this, you hand it to me, you can't just take it away."
Her hands moved over his balls, so gently, reverently, as if she were memorizing the shape and feel of them. He could only see the top of her head as she bent to examine that part of him.
"You know neither of us has much time, Casimir. If we were always meant to be together, and I've seen that bond between your brothers and my sisters, then we deserve this night and any other nights we manage to get in before we make our try."
The heat of her breath was on his cock. Fiery hot. Scorching him. Her fingers rolled and kneaded for a moment and then her breath was there - right the hell on his balls - and he felt the first tentative touch of her tongue. This time his breath exploded from his body. His entire world narrowed to his balls and cock. There was nothing else but that part of his anatomy.
She licked over him. Like an ice cream cone. Clearly tasting him. Very gently she sucked at the tender flesh of his balls and then rolled them again before her tongue took a leisurely foray up his shaft. One hand still cupped his balls, but the other went exploring right behind her tongue, her palm sliding up his length and teasing the underside of his flared crown.
He threw back his head, trying not to roar with need. His hand cupped the back of her head, desperate to push her head down, to feel the velvet heat of her mouth surrounding him, but he knew better. His control wasn't in shreds yet, although she was fast bringing him closer to that edge.
He was aware of the way she massaged his balls, sending streaks of fire racing through his groin while her tongue continued exploring. She licked the droplets off of him, one fist closing around his shaft at the base. He knew she wasn't experienced, but the intensity of her investigation coupled with her obvious enjoyment sent his senses reeling. She made him feel more than he'd ever felt before with any of the experienced women he had deliberately seduced.
Casimir drew his hand down the length of her silky hair, fingers weaving and sifting, trying to distract himself enough from the fire spreading through his groin, from the need to have her mouth take him deep. She didn't. She used her tongue to get to know his size and shape, but denied him that one thing he craved.
"Are you afraid, Lissa?" His voice wasn't his own. He sounded husky, almost hoarse. His cock raged at him. At her. With needs all its own. Needs he had never felt before, not like this. Not real. Not without him forcing his mind to go there, thinking to pleasure a woman to get the information he needed.
Lissa wasn't looking to be pleasured by him. She made it clear she was giving him pleasure. That she wanted to know every inch of him. His thighs. His balls. His cock. She'd showed attention to his chest, his back and shoulders. She was exploring, taking her time about it, trusting him to let her do what she was comfortable with. But she was killing him slowly.
"Golubushka, tell me if you're afraid of this."
"No. I want to get to know eve
ry inch of you. I want to claim you. I know once I'm on that bed with you, you'll take over, and that's a good thing. I want that. But I need to do this for me. I'm trying to tell you something about me. About us. About what is important to me, and this is the only way I know to do it."
She didn't lift her head, but her gaze met his and once again that pure blue drew him into her. She wasn't pleading. Lissa Piner didn't plead. She wanted. Him. She was making that clear. Staking her own claim in her own way. She was claiming every inch of him, making him hers, branding him. His woman might be shy about this, but she wasn't afraid and she had confidence in them together.
He caught one hand and drew it beneath his balls, pressing her finger against that soft spot between his balls and anus, the one that could bring a man a great deal of pleasure just by stroking. He showed her and then brought his own hand back to her bare skin. Stroking caresses as her finger and mouth drove him mad.
His palm itched, the burn in the center reminding him that she belonged to him. That once he marked her, nothing could come between them. His mark would create a pathway between their minds. The silk of her hair brushed against the mark, and he felt it as if her tongue had glided over him, leaving behind a trail of fire.
"Give me this, Casimir, and then we do everything your way. I truly want that, but I need this." She didn't stop stroking him. Learning what pleased him that fast.
Her breath was hot now, bathing the velvet crown of his cock in scorching flame. His hips moved convulsively, thrusting toward that heat, and to his shock, her lips parted and she took him in. Her mouth was scalding. Soft. Moist. Everything and more than he'd fantasized over. Fingernails raked down his thigh and then around to his buttocks. She cupped him, drew his hips toward her, her fist tightening around the base of his cock as her tongue swirled over the crown, catching every leaking drop.
He was large. He knew that. In some cases it was a good thing. When it came to being in that hot, sacred mouth, that paradise he'd unconsciously sought his entire life, maybe not so much. He wanted all the way in. All the way. He wanted to bury himself deep, feel his balls against her delicate chin, the head of him with her throat squeezing around him. He wanted it all. He stayed in control, but just barely, he was losing it fast. She shredded it with her mouth and fingers so easily.
She used her tongue and then sucked him deeper. An inch. Cautious. Still exploring.
"Lissa, I have to tell you the truth here. You're done with claiming. I'm branded. Yours. No one else. You alone. I'm not going to be able to take much more, so let's move this to the bed." He meant it. He was more than about done, he was already gone. His icy, rigid control had melted under the siege of her fiery mouth and he had to end this before he began thrusting deep and scared the hell out of her.
5
Lissa tilted her head back, but she didn't release Casimir's cock. The head was so soft, like velvet, broad and flared, and he tasted delicious. Salty, but unique. She couldn't quite figure out how when everything she'd read told her some women didn't like the taste. Maybe the taste varied from man to man, but whatever, she wasn't letting Casimir take over until she was done. And she wasn't done.
She looked up at him and drew him a little deeper. Suckled. Watched his eyes grow even darker with lust. He liked what she was doing. She might not know exactly what to do, but her instincts and all the books she'd read gave her a few clues. Lust mixed with emotions she couldn't name blazed in the shocking silver of his eyes. She loved that look. That passion she'd kept locked up for so long answered that look. She felt it rise in her even more.
She loved the taste and shape of him. The steel spike under all that soft skin. She loved to run her tongue along that throbbing vein and tease the underside of the head with her tongue so she could feel him pulse hotly in her mouth. She really loved the way his fingers curled in her hair, forming two tight fists while he held her head in position without forcing it down over him. She loved that his hips seemed to thrust without his consent. Shallow, but with enough insistence that she knew he could take over at any moment, but he chose not to.
Staring into his eyes, she sucked him deeper, sliding her mouth around him, getting used to his girth. It wasn't easy, but Lissa never backed down when she wanted something, and seeing the look in his eyes, feeling the nearly helpless movement of his hips, she wanted this more than she wanted most things. For herself. For him. Because neither one of them ever had anything real. For her, this was the real woman giving something to the real man. She wanted him to understand that. This was for Casimir Prakenskii and not one of the many roles he played.
The silver in his eyes went molten. His face darkened. The lust grew stronger, but so did those emotions. She'd touched the real man, not the fake ones, and she knew it. Reveled in it. He didn't pull away from her, but tightened his hold in her hair.
"Get the shaft very wet, golubushka, use your tongue and saliva. That will help." He removed one hand from her hair to wrap around her fist, showing her the movement. "Keep your mouth tight as you work my cock, but Lissa, I'm not coming in your mouth or on you, not this time, I want inside you, so when I say to stop, I want you to stop."
There was steel in his voice. His will was steel. She wanted to smile around the length and girth of him because he didn't yet know that there was steel in her. She gave in because she wanted to, never because someone forced her to. He'd been forged in the fires of hell, but in a way, so had she. They matched. She knew that. She hadn't wanted or expected to feel for him like she did. She hadn't known it was possible to forge a bond so strong so fast when she knew next to nothing about him. Still, it was there. And she was giving them both a gift. Making them both real people, not the fake roles they normally lived their lives in.
She followed his instructions, using her tongue, her saliva, to spread moisture up and down his hard shaft. Her fist followed and then she took him into her mouth again. She loved having him there. Owning him. She did own him like this. He gave himself up to her and she had all the power in those heady moments.
She suckled, hollowed her cheeks, and each time she slid her mouth down over him in time to the rhythm of her fist, she took him deeper. Her jaws became used to the width of him while her mouth loved the feel and taste of him. His hand left hers to resume the fist in her hair and suddenly everything changed.
His hands took control of her head, forcing her a little lower. She would have gone on her own, but he didn't wait that half second and the action surprised her. She nearly lost the rhythm, but he didn't push her down too far and she tightened her mouth, hearing him groan. The sound was amazing. Perfect. Real. The feel of him in her mouth was real.
He took over the pace, making it a little faster, going a little deeper, his hips taking control when he held her head there.
"Harder, Lissa. Suck harder." His eyes closed for a brief moment and then he had to see that beautiful, incredible sight. Her fantasy lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes caressing him as her mouth pleasured him. "Chertovski krasivaya," he swore in Russian, his voice guttural. "That's it, malyshka, that's perfect."
She kept her gaze fixed on his. The look in his eyes sent red-hot streaks straight to her core. Her temperature soared along with her need. The more drops spilled into her mouth, the more she craved. Mostly, she craved that look. She knew she was giving him something he'd never had before. Women had most definitely sucked his cock for him, she wasn't his first, but from the genuine look on his face, she knew this was the first real time. His reaction to her wasn't a practiced art. It was all real. As his hips thrust, she took him deeper, feeling the solid length of him, not coming close to all of him, but he touched the back of her throat and was gone. She didn't want him to go. She used her tongue, curling and dancing, flattening it to stroke hard and then sucking even harder, trying to relax enough to take him deeper.
Abruptly, his hands gripped her with a fierce determination and he forced her head up and off of him. She heard herself moan softly, not wanting to let go. "I
wasn't finished," she pointed out. "You taste so good, Casimir. I think I'm already addicted."
Casimir walked her backward until her knees hit the bed. All the while she kept her fist wrapped tight around his cock, and the action nearly sent him over the edge. He had never been this close to the edge of his control.
"This is mine," she said, her chin going up in a challenge. "You're taking away something that belongs to me."
"Temporarily," he said. "I'm only taking it away temporarily." He could make his home there in her mouth. She was beautiful. Defiant. Challenging him. He loved a good challenge, and his woman was about to see what he was capable of. "I want to eat you up. Devour you. Like honey. Like candy. You had your fun and now it's my turn."
Lust consumed him. Emotions he hadn't known himself capable of. For the first time in his life, he knew exactly who he was. Casimir Prakenskii was a real man and he had his woman there with him, wiping out every ugly thing in his past. Making him whole again. Filling that emptiness in him with her gift.
His body burned for hers. His mouth watered for the taste of her. His palms itched - both of them, needing her soft skin under them. Even his fingertips pulsed with a terrible ache. His cock raged at him. Raged. Genuine and hungry. That need so elemental, so primitive he felt savage. He told himself to go slow, that this time had to be for her. An assault on her senses, building her need until it was every bit as brutal as his own. He wanted this time to be perfect for her, and he had the feeling that stretching her so he could fit would take a little finessing. Still, she was made for him or his mark wouldn't be there, ready to be branded deep into her cells.
Fire Bound Page 8