Maya Banks - Sweet Possession

She laughed softly and stroked her hands over his back, up the column of his neck and then into his hair. She was everywhere, touching, caressing. She curled her legs around his waist and arched into him, trying to get him deeper. As if that were possible. He was already balls deep, pressed so tight against her ass that it would take a crowbar to separate them.

“Relax,” he whispered. “I’ll make it good for you. Let me love you. Let me show you how good it can be with someone who cares for you.”

She went so still that he worried he’d crossed some invisible line. She looked—for lack of a better word—lost.

Worried he’d lose her, he kissed a line to her jaw and then nibbled over to her lips before sealing his mouth over hers. He was consumed by her. He had to be careful or he’d devour her. He had to pace himself and measure his kisses. She just tasted so good that he lacked control.

Raising his hands to frame her face, he pulled back just an inch or so and then thrust again as he claimed her mouth once more.

Their tongues slipped over each other, exploring and tasting. He began moving, withdrawing and thrusting, slowly at first and then harder and faster as he finally managed to leash the raging caveman inside who just wanted to claim his woman, mark her and slake his lust endlessly.

Oh yeah, he could do this all night.

Touching her. Tasting her. Getting so deep inside her that she couldn’t shake him. He wanted her to believe in him. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted a lot of damn things.

He wanted to wrap himself around her so tight that nothing or no one could ever get to her or hurt her. He wanted to be her refuge.

His mouth slipped from hers and glanced over her cheek to her ear and then down her neck, kissing and sucking. He hadn’t given her any sort of foreplay but he couldn’t even muster the regret he should. She’d been sleek and ready for him. Hot and damp. So fucking tight that he thought he’d die getting inside her.

“Connor,” she whispered. “I’m close. I can’t hold back.”

He closed his eyes. Damn, but he didn’t deserve this. He hadn’t done anything to ensure her pleasure. He’d gone after her like a rutting pig. Pinned her to the mattress and held her down while he got inside her.

It took everything he had, but he pulled out of her. His cock screamed hell no. She let out a whimper of protest. He kissed her belly and then dropped to his knees between her thighs. He was determined to make her feel every bit as good as he did.

Her pussy was swollen from his invasion. The soft pink lips were spread and her opening was red and distended from his size. Damn, but she was sexy.

He pressed his mouth to the opening. She flinched and let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Then he swept his tongue over and then pushed in until he tasted the very heart of her.

She went satiny sweet in his mouth. Like liquid silk.

Her legs came up and looped over his shoulders, squeezing his head and holding it in place. She pulsed against his mouth. Shudder after shudder rolled through her body. She lifted her hips but he grasped them and held them in place for his seeking mouth.

He tongued her clit, rolling the tip in a tight circle and then sucking softly at the quivering peak. She was as tight as a bow at full draw, her thighs rigid on his shoulders.

“Connor,” she said softly. So sweetly it was like music over his ears. “Connor,” she said again on a sigh.

He rose and stared down at her half-lidded eyes, glazed with passion and yearning. She was sprawled out like a feast before him and he ate her with his eyes.

Then he reached and flipped her over until she was facedown on the mattress. She turned her head so that her cheek rested against the mattress and she closed her eyes as if anticipating where he’d take her next.

He cupped her plump behind and kneaded the soft flesh, pushing and spreading so that her pussy was bared. He pulled until she was bent over the edge and then he pushed into her from behind, his abdomen pressing into her as he stroked deep.

Man, he loved her like this. His hands left her ass and smoothed up her delicate spine to her shoulders, and then he gripped her neck and thrust again, pulling her to meet his forceful thrusts.

He leaned down until his body was completely covering hers. Protecting. Sheltering. Completely blanketing her. Then he began fucking in and out, the sounds of his hips slapping against her ass rising in the silent room.

She moaned and stretched her arms out above her head as if surrendering completely to his dominance. He nipped at her shoulder, lightly at first and then harder.

He wanted to own her. He wanted to put his mark on her, to let her know she belonged to him. No one else. No other man would touch her. No other man would possess what he considered his.

She may not know it yet, but he was it for her. It was going to require patience. He was a patient guy when the reward was high.

She was going to be the biggest challenge of his life, but he was up to it. He wasn’t going to fail.

She was his.

He lowered his body until his chest was flush with her back. She was cupped perfectly to him and he moved both their bodies as he stroked in and out in long, lazy thrusts.

Over and over he made his point, driving her so close to orgasm and then stilling as she moved restlessly beneath him, trying to make him take her over the edge. He waited and then began all over again, pushing into her, feeling the exquisite sensation of her pussy clutching at him.

“You’re mine, Lyric,” he whispered next to her ear. And then he thrust hard and deep and began pumping against her with renewed urgency.

He planted his palms on either side of her and levered himself up so that he could power more forcefully into her.

She cried out and went slick around him so that he glided with ease so deep, into the very heart of her. Faster. Harder.

Mindlessly he kept thrusting, even when her entire body went rigid and his name spilled from her lips over and over.

He chased one orgasm from her and went after another. Relentless. Wanting her to know who she belonged to. Who commanded her body and her pleasure.

She begged and pleaded. More. Stop. Don’t stop. Oh God. Again.

“Connor!”

Her fingers curled into fists above her, and she raised her head and pushed back against him as another orgasm raced through her body, igniting fire within him.

“Oh God, I’m coming. Baby. You feel so good. Come with me, Lyric.”

He swelled within her, so tight he could barely move even after she’d come twice and her moisture bathed him. He withdrew and rolled her over roughly, spreading her legs and mounting her again, this time face-to-face. He wanted to see her. He wanted to drown in her eyes while he finally came.

He plunged deep. Withdrew and then plunged one last time. She wrapped herself around him. Arms, legs. She raised her head and buried it in his neck.

He came apart. It was the most gut-wrenching orgasm of his life. He couldn’t be still. He kept thrusting and thrusting, like he was about to come out of his skin. He came and came, and he worried about the condom but he couldn’t stop.

She held him, stroking her hands over his back, clutching at him with her legs, pulling him deeper until there was no separation between them.

He slumped down over her, embedded deeply in her pussy as the last of his release tore from his body. He sucked in deep breaths. His entire body shook. He couldn’t catch up. Couldn’t process the magnitude of what he’d just felt. It was earth-shattering. Weren’t women supposed to be the ones who came undone during sex? He’d never felt so damn vulnerable in his life.

Knowing he couldn’t stay inside her after coming so violently, he groaned and rolled to the side, still holding her tightly against him.

He eased out of her, hoping like hell the condom wasn’t already leaking. Then he reached down and pulled it off. He leaned back and aimed for the garbage can but he didn’t give a shit if it made it or not. He’d clean it up later. Right now he didn’t want to separate himself from Lyric even for the two seconds it would take to dispose of the rubber.

She trembled against him and was so quiet, it worried him. What was he supposed to say after something like this? What was there to say?

He’d scare the shit out of her if he spouted what he was thinking or feeling. Hell, any woman would waste no time getting the hell away if he told her that he wanted to tie her to him for the next year and never let her out of bed.

Sex made a man crazy. There was no other explanation for it.

No, it wasn’t sex. And maybe that was the problem. He knew it went far deeper than that. It hadn’t been sex even that first time. He knew it. He accepted it. He just didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do about it.

Worse, he had no idea how to handle Lyric. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. One wrong word and the walls would go up and he’d be frozen out.

How the hell was a man ever supposed to know the right thing to say or do at precisely the right time? It was a wonder relationships ever worked.

Relationship. Hell. He was getting way too far ahead of himself. He was thinking too much. You weren’t supposed to think after mind-blowing sex. That was his problem. He was getting all analytical—and, God help him, all touchy-feely—when he needed to just enjoy the moment and take things as they came.

Weren’t women supposed to be the emotional creatures who couldn’t separate sex from love?

He was fucked. So fucked.

He glanced down to see her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling as she cuddled against him. With a resigned sigh, he made the mental effort to shut his brain off. One should never make life-altering decisions when holding a naked woman in his arms.

For a long moment they lay there, silent and unmoving. He was about to drift into sleep himself, content that she hadn’t hauled ass, when she stirred against him and started to push away.

The alarm went off in his brain as she started to roll. He reached for her but she slipped from his grasp.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she whispered, just as she’d done the first night they’d made love.

And he knew, just as he’d known then, that she wouldn’t be back.

It was somehow fitting that during the night a cold front moved through and brought with it raw, rainy temperatures. In a lot of ways, it suited Lyric’s mood.

Fear was cold. Fear had icy fingers that gripped your heart and spread its chill through your soul.

Connor scared her. Not him, but what he represented. No matter what she did, she couldn’t rid herself of the panicky, tight feeling in her chest.

How could she face him after what she’d done? He’d been . . . perfect. Just perfect. More than perfect. She didn’t even have words to describe it simply because she’d never had a man look at her, touch her . . . love her as Connor had done.

And her response? Run like hell.

She rubbed tiredly at her forehead as she stood shivering in the rain. She hadn’t slept. She’d spent the entire night secluded in the small library off the living room. Now she stood staring over the front lawn, taking in nothing and everything all at once as the rain fell softly around her.

A warm hand slid over her bare shoulder and squeezed. She knew instantly it was Connor, and she went still, dreading what he’d say or do. He surprised her.

“Come inside, Lyric,” he said gently. “It’s cold and you have a performance tonight. Have you slept at all?”

She shook her head mutely as he pulled her into his side and shielded her from the rain with his big body.

She wanted to say she was sorry but the words hung painfully in her throat. She wanted to tell him that she’d never felt this way about another man and that she was scared shitless. She wanted to turn into him and hold on for dear life. Take what he offered and never let go.

But the fear wouldn’t thaw. She was cold and frozen. Unable to move. Unable to reach out. And so she went quietly back inside and stood in front of the fireplace while he rubbed a towel through her hair.

Would he say something now? Would he ask her for explanations she couldn’t provide? Ask her to reveal things long hidden?

But all he did was wrap a robe around her and pull the ends snug so she’d be warm. He rubbed his hands up and down her shoulders several times and then said, “You have a few hours yet. You should try to sleep. I’ll wake you in time to get to the arena.”