Wild Card (28 page)

God I am the man that's going to fuck you. That's going to hold you when you cry in the night,

and the man that's going to bind you to him so tight, so hard, that you'll never think to hide

even a partical of who and what you are from him."

"Stop. Stop." She sobbed. Her breath was heaving, tears dimming her vision, as the words tore

through her with the effect of a jagged knife.

"I won't stop." Hard hands held her to him, refused to let her go. "Look at me, Sabella."

His features were blurred, the need to lean against him, to find something to hold on to,

weakened her knees.

"I'm not Nathan Malone. But I'm your lover, Sabella. And I need you. I need you like your

husband had no idea how to need you. I need you until the fever burns inside me for your

touch, your kiss."

He clasped her head in his hands, lowered his lips and smoothed them over hers, sipped from

hers. He tasted her tears and her pain, and something inside his soul tore loose.

Ah God, how he was hurting her. Hurting her until her sobs tore through him like dull spikes

and ripped at his in. But he knew. The second he heard her questioning Ian, he knew she had

begun to suspect. Somehow, some way, his too perceptive little witch had sensed the ghost of

her husband inside him.

She shuddered against him. The whore's dust, those last minute amounts that infected his

system, pumped through him. overshadowed everything but the feel of her. The feel of her soft

lips, the taste of her pain in her tears.

"Sabella," he whispered. "Touch me. Just touch. Close your eyes and be with whoever you

need to be with, but touch me."

He lifted her hands, pressed them against his hard stomach beneath the bandage that covered

the knife wound. He felt her jerk, felt her response.

"I would die for your touch." He kissed her lips again, watched as her head lifted, her soft gray eyes cloudy with her tears, with the lost dreams.

She shook her head and he kissed her again. His lips caught hers this time, settled against them,

and rather than devouring as he needed to, he let himself sip, let himself taste.

Because she responded. Torn between the man she loved and the man she wanted. And he

couldn't allow her to suspect both were breathing and aching for her.

"Please don't," she whispered when his head lifted and he drew her back into the living room.

Drew her to the bedroom.

"Walk away then." He turned, shucked his jeans, and palmed the thick, heavy erection

pounding with lust.

Her gaze flickered to him and she trembled. He could see the battle on her face. Sweet

beautiful Sabella. Battling her anger, her fear, her want.

He lay back on the bed and stroked his heavy cock. And she watched. Her fingers fisted in her

T-shirt now, her face flushed though tears still glittered in her eyes.

"I'll lie right here," he promised her. "I'll be a good boy and you can ride me, Sabella."

She used to love that, he remembered. She had loved rising over him, taking him, working his

cock inside her at her own pace.

He watched her gaze darken, watched the hunger crawl inside her, watched as her breathing

deepened, grew heavier. Her breasts lifted against her shirt, hard little nipples pressing into the

fabric.

"Come here." He held his hand out to her. "Let me tell you what it feels like inside you. How your mouth feels going down on me. Your hands on my flesh."

He was dying for her hands on him. Aching. Racked by the need in ways he had never been

tortured before this.

She hesitated. He watched the battle in her gaze. The battle between him and the memory she

refused to let go.

Forever. Something inside him gentled as he remembered the vow she had always whispered to

him. That she would love him forever. And he had sworn he would return to her forever.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her hands lowered to the hem of her shirt and she

removed it. Slowly.

Her hair was unbound, lying past her shoulders in thick, heavy waves as she tossed the shirt

aside, leaving her breasts covered only by the filmy silk of her bra.

She sat down, unlaced her boots, and pulled them free of her small feet, then pulled off her

jeans. It wasn't a seductive striptease. It was a woman finally releasing something inside

herself. Or testing something. He wasn't certain, and his mind was clouded by the lust raging

inside him.

"This isn't normal." She stepped to him, easing onto the bed beside him as she let her hand

smooth up the inside of his thigh. "This hard. This aroused. You were bleeding bad last night,

Noah. Give me this much at least. Tell me what's wrong with you."

He clenched his jaw. He could feel the sweat popping out on his flesh, dampening him as the

fever nearly took his head off it spiked so hard inside him.

"Have you heard of whore's dust?"

She blinked. "It's a date rape drug. Or was."

"Was." He nodded. "We were tracking the man selling it and I was captured. Pumped up on it for a while. There are still minute amounts of it in my body. Adrenaline pumps it through me.

Wounds, fevers. I get hard. I need to fuck."

"Anything? Anyone?" Her lashes lowered as her fingers eased over the torturously tight sac of

his balls.

He shook his head. "No."

"How many women have you had since they did this to you?"

"Does it matter?" He wouldn't lie to her, not now, not while her fingers were caressing his

balls.

His thighs shifted apart, allowing her to cup him as a ragged groan tore from his lips.

"Right now, it won't matter. Later, maybe it will." She lowered her head, and Noah felt live

electricity sear his nerve endings as she tongued his balls with her damp little tongue.

She gave him a wet kiss. Cupping her lips over his balls she licked him until his hands were

buried in her hair, pulling at it, then pushing her head closer. Kneading her scalp like a cat and

flexing beneath her touch.

There was something different in her touch now. He couldn't pinpoint it. Not yet. He'd figure it

out tomorrow. Later. After he got her mouth on his dick. But damn, those sweet lips felt so

good on his balls. They were tight, they were always tight when the fever hit him, when the

need for her touch was an agony, a starvation.

When nothing mattered but feeling her. Just feeling her. Just for a minute, before the hunger

sharpened and he had to move.

She sucked at his balls, kissed them.

Had she ever done that when they were married? He swore she hadn't. But he hadn't exactly

pushed her to be adventurous. He had always been too damned greedy just to get into her pants

in the first place.

Now, now, he wanted more. He wanted that wild woman he was glimpsing. The one who liked

being talked dirty to. The one who burned in his arms when he let her have her way with his

body.

"Is this what you want?" Her voice was velvet soft, a rasp of pleasure so sweet he felt it lance through his body as her tongue licked up the heavy stalk of his erection.

"God yes!" He lifted to her, watching, his teeth clenched, pleasure ricocheting from nerve

ending to nerve ending as her mouth finally closed over the head of his cock.

Ah hell yes. This. Her mouth sucking his cock head tight and hot, so sweet. His hips arched to

her as he felt her tongue the underside, rub it, her tongue stretching against it in that hot little

way she had.

He shivered at the sensation. Shit. That was good. It was too damned good because he was

going to blow any second if she kept that up.

Then she changed tactics. She sucked him.

"Hell. Damn you." His hands locked in her hair at the tight, deep strokes of her mouth. "Suck me, Sabella. God, that hot mouth of yours is like heaven. Sucking me straight to ecstasy."

She took him deeper inside her mouth than he ever remembered going before. She worked his

cock head against her tongue, the roof of her mouth. She stroked him with silken lips, a

destructive tongue, and when he thought he was going to shatter from the pleasure, she released

him.

"Pretty lips," he groaned. "Swollen from my cock fucking them. Do you know how much that

turns me on?"

His witch. His sweet hot little witch. She stared back at him, her gray eyes darkening, her face

flushed, her hair wild around her face and shoulders.

"A lot?" she whispered, licking her lips, then licking the underside of his cock head. "I'm guessing you like it a whole lot."

A temptress. A brazen little sexpot licking her tongue over the head of his cock and tasting the

pearl of semen that beaded at the tiny slit of his cock head.

And then she moaned.

He was going to come with nothing more to spur it than the sound of that moan, hot and

hungry. His cock jerked in her hands and she smiled. A sensual, confident little smile. The

knowing smile. A woman that holds a man in the very palm of her hand, literally. Not just his

soul, but his dick.

She held all of him. Noah knew it. He had known it since the first day he saw her, frazzled,

worried about her job and her car and asking for a wrench.

Hell, if he'd known she meant the wrench itself rather than a helping hand…

And here she was now, her body sliding slowly up his, straddling his hips, easing over him and

staying clear of his wounds.

That hot, wet pussy slid over the shaft of his cock, tucking it between his own body and her

swollen flesh as her lips lowered to his.

He was waiting on her, hungry for her. Desperate. Dying in her arms and she didn't even know

it. He died in her arms every time he shot his seed inside her. Every time he felt her contracting

around him in release.

"Kiss me, Noah." Sweet, sensual, her voice worked his senses like a master musician with an

instrument. She strummed through his heart, plucked at his ragged soul and left him reaching

for her.

"You're teasing," he growled as her tongue licked over his hips.

His hand gripped her hips, moving her against him, feeling her pussy slide over his erection as

her tongue tasted his lips.

"I intend to deliver." She nipped at his lips, stared down at him.

"You better deliver fast." He was this side of panting, one second from rolling her to the bed

and burying the thick, tormented length of his cock inside her.

She lifted her hips as his hands slid up her torso, cupped her swollen breasts. He bent his head

to her hard little nipples as she let the head of his cock tuck into her entrance.

Noah felt heat sizzle through his dick. It began at the tip, her juices kissed it, glazed it, then

pure tight bliss began to enfold it.

He sucked her nipple harder, lashed it with his tongue and heard her cry out his name.

"Oh yeah. Baby, so good." He had to release her nipple, had to hold her face in his hands, stare into her eyes. "So damned tight. Sweet. Ride me, sweetheart. Ride me out of hell."

She took him deeper, rocking on him, moving against him as he lifted to her, watching her

eyes, watching them as his chest tightened, exploded. She was staring at him the way she'd

stared at him before he died. Before he was taken from her.

He had told her to imagine him however she needed to. To let him be whatever she needed.

And this was how desperately she needed her husband. The man who had chased the adrenaline

high rather than his future with her. But it had been more than that. So much more. And it

ended here, in her arms, and he knew the loss hadn't been worth it. Nothing was worth losing

this woman.

"Yeah. Ride me now. Fuck me hard and sweet. But later. Later I'm going to lay you down and

lap that pretty pussy again. Fill my mouth with your sweet juice. I'm going to tongue your

pussy, Sabella. I'm going to suck your clit until you're screaming. Begging. For me."

She shivered and arched. She took more of him, her pussy growing wetter around him, tighter

around him.

He had never talked to her like that. He'd always cuddled her, tried to protect her from what he

was, from what had once been just a shadow of darkness inside his sexuality.

"Yes." She hissed her pleasure, she loved it. Her head fell back as she moved on him, working

herself on him, faster, slower, teasing and taking and giving until he was ready to roar with the

agonizing pleasure of it.

The whore's dust made the need sharper, harder. But it hadn't changed the pleasure. She still

gave him more pleasure, destroyed him with each touch, took him like a vixen in heat, and

made him want to beg for more.

She rode him now, sliding up and down, watching him, her eyes narrowed, her face flushed as

he watched the pleasure rising inside her as well.

He smiled. A tight hard smile. And did something he had never done as her husband. Hooking

his arm around her he drew her to his chest, took her lips. The fingers of one hand slid into the

syrupy juices surrounding his cock and drew them back to a place he had never touched as her

husband.

A place he hadn't yet explored, dreamed of exploring, ached to take. She was jerking against

him, her breathing shallow now, taking his cock harder as he slickened his fingers, tucked one

at that entrance and took control from her.

His hips slammed upward, his finger eased inside her. Slow and easy. Working in and out,

lubricating with her own juices just enough to allow this penetration.

She was going wild. Arching and bucking.