Fire Bound

by Christine Feehan

  She obeyed him, going slow, her small hands filled with her lush, soft, very white breasts. The sight of her breasts in her palms, her fingers curled around the mounds, sent more fire pounding through his cock. Her nipples were hard little pebbles and his mouth watered, wanted to feast. Still, there were other things he needed more.

  "Now my zipper."

  She let her breasts go and the material of her gown pushed them closer, deepening the cleavage, her breasts jutting toward him, even more of an enticement. "You look so beautiful," he said, his voice going rough. "Gorgeous. That gown open for me. Your breasts straining toward me. You're hungry, aren't you, malyshka?"

  Her fingers fumbled with the zipper, but then she had the trousers parted and she pushed open the slit in his silk underwear so that his heavy cock sprang free.

  "Answer me, Giacinta. You're hungry for me, aren't you?" He needed to know he wasn't alone in the fire raging through his body. She looked flushed, her eyes dark with lust, her lips glistening with moisture, making him want to groan and thrust deep.

  "So hungry, Casimir," she admitted. "I'm already damp for you. My little lace panties are going to be wet."

  He groaned aloud. "You're killing me." He needed his balls free. They were aching and sore, pressed tight against the material. He started to reach down but she was there before him, taking care of her man, freeing him, her fingers drifting over the heavy sac. Her touch sent streaks of fire spearing straight up his groin to his pulsing cock and radiating outward like a burst of fireworks.

  He stilled, watching her face. Her blue eyes. Her red lips. That silken red head slowly, inch by inch bent toward him. He felt her breath. Warm. Silky. Her hands cupped his balls, fingers stroking caresses. He felt each touch searing through skin to stir that seething mass of pure magma waiting to explode. Her lips parted. His breath caught in his throat. Burned in his lungs.

  Looking straight into his eyes, she caught at his hip with one hand, the other still cupping his sac, and her tongue slid up his shaft, from root to the underside of the crown. His entire body shuddered. The muscles in his thighs tightened. The fire in his belly burned hotter, sending more liquid flames racing through his bloodstream. It wasn't just the exquisite feeling of her tongue and hands, it was the sight of her, the dress, her hair, the look of hunger on her face as she parted her lips and drew the broad flat head of his cock into the heat of her mouth.

  Once again his breath hissed out of him as her red lips stretched around his girth and she hollowed her cheeks and sucked. Hard. Tight. Hot. So hot. The sensation was beyond paradise. She sucked hard and then her tongue began a little foray over his shaft, teasing at the one spot that sent liquid drops spilling into her mouth. She caught them, swiping at them, hungry for more.

  His enjoyment wasn't just about the way she looked, at his feet, her lips wrapped around his cock buried deep in her mouth, or the sensation now, it was the way she gave him this. Eager. Wanting to please him. That mattered to her. He mattered to her. His pleasure. She wanted that for him and she gave it to him. This was all for him. Every sweet stroke of her tongue, every hard suckle of her mouth - was for him.

  He murmured encouragement to her. Love to her. Swore in his own language when the fire turned scorching and he knew he should end it before he exploded down her throat, but he couldn't force himself to pull away from her. His hips began moving of their own accord, little surges that pressed him deeper, that took him further into paradise. She didn't pull away or try to take back complete control. She gave him that. Her eyes lavished love on him. Burned with lust. Her breasts flushed even darker, her nipples so hard and beautiful he couldn't resist reaching down to feel that beauty - take what was his, what she gave him.

  He tugged and rolled while her breath hitched around him, and then she moaned. The sound vibrated up his shaft and he dropped his hands to her hair. All that silky, wild, fiery hair. The knot was sexy, and messy enough that he could delve his fingers deep, curl them into two tight fists and hold her head still while he pushed his hips into that incredible inferno.

  So close. He felt it in his balls as they drew tight. Boiling hot. Her fingers stroked. Caressed. Her mouth pulled and suckled hard. Milking. Drawing that hot, liquid magma right out of him. He felt the eruption start somewhere in his toes, move up his calves and rush through his thighs until his cock jerked and pulsed, pouring into her, down her throat, hot as hell.

  She didn't pull away, didn't try to lift her head, but she took every drop of his release. Every drop that belonged only to her. He groaned with the pleasure burning through him. Watching her, unable to look away from the sight of those red lips stretched around him, her throat working, her eyes on his, giving him that gift.

  She was so fucking beautiful, and what she gave him was even more so. She gentled her movements, ran her tongue up and over him, lapped at him with care, still watching him.

  She'd drained him dry, but the sight of her kneeling there, her lips swollen, eyes on his, a pearl drop resting in the corner of her mouth to be caught by a swipe of her small tongue, stirred him to life.

  "I'm so wet for you. I loved that. Watching your face, watching what that did to you. You're delicious, honey." Her purring voice was stark with honesty.

  He caressed her face with the pads of his fingers, slid them into the silk of her hair and massaged her scalp gently. "I think you love my cock, not me."

  Her tongue slid around her lips, both top and bottom and then she smiled at him slow. Sexy. "I have to admit, I'm a little addicted to your cock, so yeah, I love it, but I love you too, so don't be jealous."

  "Take my shoes off, malyshka." His voice was husky.

  She did as he asked, leaning down to untie his shoes and loosen the laces. He loosened his tie, took it off and shrugged out of his jacket. He steadied himself by putting a hand on her shoulder, allowing her to slip off his shoes and socks. He unbuttoned his shirt, his gaze still holding hers, and tossed it aside.

  Immediately, without him having to direct her, she reached up to tug at the waistband of his trousers, removing them and his boxers at the same time. She leaned into him and pressed a kiss to the crown of his cock before taking his hand and coming to her feet. He bent his head and took her left breast in his mouth, suckling hard, using tongue and teeth to draw gasps. His other hand caressed and soothed her right breast while he worked her left one hard, creating warring sensations in her.

  She cried out and cradled his head to her, stroking his hair, her body shuddering with pleasure. She was already ready for him, completely turned on just from sucking him off. He loved that. Loved that she admitted it to him without any embarrassment. She was fire, to match his, burning from the inside out. Going up in flames with him and getting off on it.

  He took his time, bending her back so that her breasts thrust upward, an offering. Switching to the other breast with his mouth, he used his hand as a counterpoint to the searing heat and stinging bites. She moaned, her body nearly writhing against his. He savored the feel of her breasts, her hard nipples, the way she reacted, telling him everything he needed. Her breathy moans, the little gasping hitches. His woman liked it hot and rough. She went wild when he used the edge of his teeth. When he lapped with his tongue and then suckled hard.

  He lifted his head when her hips began to push into him, seeking relief. "Turn around, malyshka." His hands were already guiding her. She was too dazed and needy to comply on her own. Her little cry of protest was not lost on him, so he pulled her against him briefly, reaching around her to give her one last tug and roll on her nipples, his mouth against her neck. "You like that, don't you?"

  "Yes." She barely breathed the word.

  "You like it rough." He licked over the sweet spot where her shoulder and neck connected.

  "Yes." Her assent was a breathy whisper.

  He bit down. Hard. Her back arched. She cried out. He suckled. His tongue lapped. "I'm going to leave my mark all over you. Every fucking inch of you, Giacinta. Inside your body. Outsi
de. Every square inch of you is mine and I'm marking my territory." He sounded primitive because he felt primitive. "That's what you do to me. I turn into a caveman. You think my brother's one, but you've got your own and you love it. You love every fucking thing I do to you."

  He slipped the buttons out of the loops, opening the back of her dress, his mouth against the nape of her neck. "Say, it, golubushka, I want the words. You'll give me anything I want, won't you?"

  Very slowly, keeping her turned toward the window away from him, he slid the dress from her body, leaving her in her lacy panties, silk stockings and garters and the sexy silver heels. He ran his hand down her spine while she stepped out of the gown, all the way to the curve of her ass. He caressed the firm globes and then moved his hands up to cup her breasts, his body urging hers forward until she was at the couch, still facing the window.

  "Kneel on the couch, Giacinta," he whispered against her nape. "Facing the back, knees spread wide."

  She didn't hesitate, but placed first one knee and then the other up onto the cushions, her knees wide. She looked sexy in her ivory silk stockings, high heels and bare skin. He put a hand to her back and pressed her breasts against the cushioned back, so that the materials rubbed against her sensitive nipples. She gasped as his mouth slid down her spine, trailing kisses, occasionally nipping. His fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh. Barely there. Only a whisper of a touch.

  Lissa bucked, pushed her face into the top of the couch, gasping for breath. He was making her come apart and he'd barely touched her. "Casimir." She said his name, her mind in chaos, unable to think clear enough to demand what she needed from him.

  "Hush, baby, I'll take care of you. I'll always take care of you. Just feel." His fingers moved between her legs, again just a gentle touch, a wisp, and then he was gone. Her entire body shuddered. The action pushed her nipples against the back of the couch. That action in turn sent streaks of fire racing to her clit. She cried out at the sensation and pushed back, trying to find his fingers again.

  He ran his knuckles over the curve of her buttocks and then his palm rubbed over her. Kneaded. Massaged. His teeth nipped. His tongue eased that sting. His fingers found her again, disappearing into the wet, sliding across her aching clit and then retreating. She cried out trying to follow.

  "Do you feel how good that is, malyshka? So good, that burn. You willing to try anything with me? You don't like it you just say so, but I can make you burn hotter. Give that to you before I eat you like candy. Once I start, baby, not sure I'll be able to stop, so we've got to try this now. You want that burn?"

  "Yes." She moaned the word, unable to articulate anything else.

  "That's my girl. Give me anything I want. Love that, Giacinta. Love that you trust me with your body. With your heart." His hand smacked her ass. Not hard. Just enough to wake up every nerve ending. The burn lashed across her and then his finger pressed deep, so that her muscle grasped, her sex wept and she cried out, mindlessly rubbing her nipples against the material.

  "More?" he asked, withdrawing his finger slowly and then pumping once, lingering against her clit before running his tongue across the red mark.

  "Yes."

  "Yes, what, baby? What do you need?"

  "More. I need more." She panted the plea.

  He loved every fucking second with her. Every one. Her body was responsive to his every touch. He gave her what she wanted, keeping it light, just enough to ensure the nerve endings flashed with fire, and then plunged his finger deep to feel her body's reaction, that slick, scorching liquid fire.

  "Ride my fingers," he ordered.

  She complied instantly, grinding down, her breath hitching again, her hips setting a rhythm that took her close, but he pulled out, denying her relief. She wailed her protest and bit down on the couch.

  He caught her waist and tugged her back. "Want to play, golubushka, but I've got to eat you. You're dripping and all that fiery honey is mine. I want it. Lie down and spread for me. One leg over the back of the couch, the other foot on the floor."

  Lust rose, sharp and brutal, taking him by surprise the moment she complied. She lay back, the top of her head against the armrest, her body laid out like a feast. Her garter extended to accommodate the stretch in the stockings along her legs. One high heel went up the back of the couch while the other rested on the floor.

  He stood over her a moment, drinking in the sight of her, staring down at the junction between her legs. She kept herself trimmed so that there was a small patch of fiery curls beckoning him. Her lips were slick and wet with invitation. Her breasts swayed with every breath she took in.

  "Giacinta, I have to tell you, there is no one more beautiful or sexier than you are. Bar none. I've never seen a more beautiful sight. I love that you give yourself to me."

  Her hands cupped her breasts, her eyes on his. He watched her thumbs slide over her nipples, watched the reaction in her belly, the way her muscles rippled there and along her thighs. Her hands glided down her rib cage to her flat stomach, fingers teasing the top of her fiery red curls. "Hurry, honey, I'm on fire."

  He knelt on the floor between her legs. "Slide your finger inside. Feel how hot and wet you are. Coat your fingers and feed me." His voice went hoarse. Rough. His cock was so fucking stiff he couldn't believe he'd come so hard just a bit before. His mouth already had her taste on his tongue. She'd said she was addicted, but he knew he truly was. He could never get enough of her, not in this lifetime, not even if he took her dozens of times a day.

  She smiled. Slow. Sexy. Her eyes dark with lust. With hunger and need. He loved that look on her face. Watching him, she slid her fingers deep into her body, gasping as she did, her hips thrusting up, bucking, straining for release. He caught her wrist before she could give that to herself and pulled her hand to his mouth. Her lips formed a pout.

  "I give that to you. Not you. You feed me." He pulled her fingers deep into his mouth and stroked his tongue around them, catching every last bit of honey coating her fingers. "I love how you taste."

  Her eyes went even darker. Her lashes lowered to half-mast and her red lips parted. Sexy. Watching him as he drew her fingers deep, sucked hard and then pulled them free. He shoved both his hands under her ass, and lifted her to his mouth. With the first swipe of his tongue her entire body shuddered and a single sound escaped. Low. Moaning. Pure music.

  He settled in, savoring her taste and the sounds she made when he drove her up fast, kept her there just to enjoy her pleas. He loved the way her nails dug into his shoulders and biceps. She turned into a little wildcat, grinding down, seeking release, and he finally gave it to her, pleased when she let out a keening cry as the orgasm swept over her hard and fast.

  "More." He breathed the command against her thigh and started all over, using fingers and mouth to take her up again before the first one even had subsided. His woman. Perfect for him. She was spread out like a feast and he gave her his full attention, devouring her like a starving man.

  Her head thrashed back and forth against the armrest, her hair spilling out from the messy knot. He liked that. All that fiery silk matching the scorching-hot liquid, the silken channel and that sensual flush on her breasts.

  "Again," he demanded.

  "I can't."

  But she could. She did. Another long, wailing cry that sounded more like music than anything else. He gave her one last swipe of his tongue just to feel the shudder in her body again, rubbed his shadowed jaw along the insides of her thighs and then was over top of her, sliding in. Fast. Hard. Taking what was his. What she offered him. So beautiful. Perfection.

  She was slick, but she was tight and he drove through that gripping channel, her wet, scorching-hot silk clamping down around him, dragging at him, the friction sending fire dancing through him. There was no going slow, not when she was so responsive, not when she chanted his name and begged for hard. For rough. For more. He gave her everything she asked for and more.

  Her body shuddered around his twice mor
e, clamping hard, squeezing like an exquisite vise of silk and velvet. So wet and hot. Nothing better. He buried his face in her neck and let the fire roar through him, erupting like a volcano. He kept his weight on her, feeling her soft breasts, her silky body melting under his, savoring the feel of her sex clamped down so hard around him, still rippling with aftershocks.

  Lissa's arms were around him, holding on tight. She did that. She gave him that. Holding on to him, wrapping him up with legs and arms. Her high heels were locked around his back, the silk of her stockings rubbing sensuously over his ribs.

  "This has been a perfect day," she whispered. "Thank you."

  She'd just come hard for him four times and she was thanking him. Casimir was lost in her beauty for a moment, nuzzling her neck, kissing her jaw and then slowly easing his weight from her to kiss his way down the slope of one breast even as he glided gently in and out, prolonging the pleasure just a little longer for both of them.

  "I love you, Giacinta Prakenskii. You gave me life. Purpose." He gave her the stark truth, because she deserved it. "Somewhere in all the roles I played, I lost myself. And then there you were on that airplane, so sweet and kind to that most annoying man seated next to you." He eased out of her, sliding to his knees beside the couch, looking at his woman. Savoring the sight of her. Committing it to memory. He never wanted to forget this moment. The picture of her sprawled out on the couch, so sexy, thoroughly taken, thoroughly loved.

  "You were annoying. I did consider accidentally sticking a fork in you."