Chapter 6 #2
It was always there, that spark between them, the impossible-to-quench desire, the obsession to become a part of each other, to worship each others’ bodies, to communicate their depthless passion and emotions.
At least it was that way for him. He wasn’t just randy.
As much as he was passionate and loved women and sex as much as and maybe more than the next guy, he’d never, ever, not even with Elena, been obsessed this way with a woman.
Never had to have someone for his own, possess them wholly, eternally, like he wanted with Shana.
He’d always thought Elena, long dead, had been the love of his life, until he met Shana.
Now as he let the heady scent of her and her sex seduce him, envelop him, he forced his eyes to focus on the screen of the tablet as she scrolled down a document.
It was about Whitey Nash. Looked like his medical record dated immediately before his discharge from prison.
The bottom line on the medical document explained why they’d let him out.
Explained his boldness. Made Dane’s blood freeze, or start to.
But he pushed back. He wouldn’t let Whitey ruin this night with Shana.
If anything, the information about Whitey’s state of health cemented the rightness of his plan. Dane bent his head to whisper in Shana’s ear, reaching over her with one arm and stroking the top edge of her tank top, over the rise of her breasts and along the cleavage.
“How long does Whitey have to live?”
She shuddered. Tried to suppress it. Gratified that she was unable to, he nibbled her ear, waiting for her answer.
“He has three months according to the prison medical staff. They waited before letting him out. Presumably to let him spend his last days with his so-called loved ones.”
“He has a family?”
She finally turned to him. “A sister. He went there. At least for a night. Then they lost track of him.”
“You going to call the authorities in Australia in the morning to let them know where he is?” He held his breath.
This was important. If she called the authorities in Australia, that would mean she was conceding that this was someone else’s fight, someone else’s responsibility to deal with.
Fat chance. But he held his breath waiting for her answer anyway.
“By rights I should call them now, this minute.” She put the tablet aside then and looked at him.
“But you won’t,” he said.
She shook her head. “You know I’m coming with you tomorrow, right?”
And that was it. Her composed determination and disbelief that he would really try to stop her saved him from her anger.
Now all he had to do was lie to her. Without her knowing it. Without it eating at him.
“How would I stop you?” It was an honest question. He’d really like to know the answer.
She laughed and turned to him, putting a hand on his chest, running it over one of the scars near his shoulder.
“You can’t,” she said.
Fear and pain ran a savage shot of fire through him, making him more determined than ever to try. Making him desperate to hold her to him now, to make her part of him now, while he had her so close.
He tightened his arms, moved in to kiss her, but she pulled back.
“Did Cap find Sassy?”
“No.” He couldn’t say more. He hated lying by omission, not telling her about the note or Sassy’s phone call to Ronnie. Didn’t tell her about Ronnie planning to meet them. He couldn’t. Because he couldn’t tell her he’d be leaving in the middle of the night without her.
It was damn hard to deceive her. Not the deception part, but the guilt. It caused a biting edge of pain along his already tense shoulder blades, digging in like a long sword across his back.
Her eyes searched his for a long time before she gave in, before she let him pull her close and devour her mouth, devour her whole. His need to feel her—every single molecule of her—to consume her, drove his mind to blessed blankness.
Shana’s struggle to keep her composure, to remain rational and detached when it seemed her world could end at any moment, that she could lose everything, tugged at her.
Dane was her anchor in reason, her solid, touchable reality.
Everything about him was reassuring from his rock-hard muscle, to his determined protective streak, to his loving hands and mouth on hers.
His lips were a welcome balm, in spite of the niggling that there was something off, that there was a note of desperation in him. She fought to ignore it, wrapping her arms around to feel the hot flesh of his back and his rippling muscles under her hands.
Since when had she become so needy of his manliness? Or maybe she always had been. Maybe she had always needed that cocky male bravado backing her up and pushing her on at the same time. Maybe—
Hell. She dug her teeth into his lip, nipping harder than she ought to, but she needed it.
She needed to feel the control she had over herself.
And over him. His response was a low growl as his hands cupped her ass, pulling her up against his massive hard-on.
The feel of that solid writhing against the pulsing V in her thighs made her smile inside.
On the outside, she trembled and pushed back against him.
“We need to get you out of these clothes. I want to feel your creamy pussy against me.” He nuzzled her ear, his specialty, while he whispered words of desire.
They weren’t loving words, nothing poetic.
But they made her feel all-powerful, womanly, they made her ache with longing for him to be inside her, where she would never let go.
Where she would own the world. Where the world was only the two of them.
While his deft fingers slipped inside her panties and yanked them down her thighs, she kicked out of them, then separated her mouth from his, stared into his eyes, and pulled the tank top over her head.
The slip of her heart up into her throat caused her breath to catch as she experienced the fiery gaze of his eyes that ignited her from the inside out.
With all thought incinerated by his eyes and hands on her now, and his mouth so close to hers, she darted her tongue to his lips, licked the salty sweat from his upper lip and traced the heart achingly sensual curve of his mouth with her tongue.
Rolling back, he pulled her on top of him and spoke into her mouth raspy words she could barely understand, but knew the message, felt it in his heat, in his rough hands roving over her thighs and ass, over her back and threading into her hair, pushing her mouth to his.
At the same time she felt his cock under her belly, hard and smooth and hot as a branding iron.
She wriggled to center herself over him, to rub herself against him, feeling the exquisite sensation of her clit pressed against him.
She moved faster, her arms shaking as she held herself to feel the pleasure roiling inside her as if she were a living, breathing pressure cooker of desire.
Until he clamped his hands down on her hips and held her still against him.
“Not yet. Not without me. Not this time.” He spoke into her mouth as he rose up with seemingly little effort, abdominal muscles clenching in hard knots, and flipped her onto her back.
Over her in an instant, he pinned her down with his entire body as if she might try to escape.
Or take control. She thought fleetingly about his need to be in control this night, but when she felt the hot tip of his cock intruding into the swollen folds of her pussy all other thoughts were blown away.
Her legs trembled as she wrapped them around him and pressed.
But he held himself off her enough to slip a hand between them to touch her.
His other arm held him up so that he hovered over her, face to face, staring intently, eyes drawn like golden magnets to hers.
She focused on him, communicating with everything in her what she couldn’t say because she was unable to speak, her mind full of him and her and their joining and the pleasure building relentlessly.
Biting her lip as his fingers slid into her, circled her nub in a torturous ritual, she held in her peaking, tried to control her rising arousal, needed to hold her climax to go there with him.
They slid through the wet folds and inside her, testing.
She barely held herself from crying out.
Drips of sweat fell to her cheek from his temple and he moved, his cock twitching against her thighs.
She arched into him, needing him inside her now.
Understanding the look she knew must be in her eye, or maybe unable to hold off his own rising needs, Dane slid his hand from her pussy and took his cock, placing it at her nub, caressing her mercilessly as he stared, then nibbled at her mouth, uttering some words of love that she knew without hearing.
Finally he let go, letting his cock slip inside her as he brought his hand up to frame her face while he pushed inside her slowly, steadily until his hips ground against hers.
She smelled her sex on his hands as he caressed her jaw, as he kissed her deeply, breathing hard.
Moving back now, pulling himself out to his very tip, she held her breath, stopped herself from arching up until all at once he shoved back inside her.
Then she arched up and back as he moved steadily and faster with each thrust, breathed harder and faster, lunged his tongue into her mouth and tangled it with hers, tasting her, tasting him.
The sensations of swirling blackness, of impossibly swollen sex, impossibly tight muscles heated to the point of singeing, took over as her legs vibrated and she strained to peak, to capture that perfect point in space and time and him, that perfect joining with him.