Maya Banks - Sweet Possession

His hands trembled on her face. His fingers stroked over her mouth and her cheekbones and then one hand left her to grasp his cock and guide it toward her waiting mouth.

“Open up, baby. Take me. Take all of me.”

She licked her lips and then parted them just as the broad head of his penis bumped against her mouth. Her tongue flicked over the crown and he flinched and then pushed in, sliding over her tongue.

His taste burst through her senses. Musky and exotic. Warm and spicy with a hint of soap. He slid deeper, checking himself at intervals, but when she offered no protest he sank to the back of her throat.

His balls brushed across her nose and then pressed inward as he strained forward. His hands tightened on the sides of her head and then he began thrusting back and forth.

He delved his fingers into her hair, separating and brushing through the strands. His movements were slow and measured. He never overwhelmed her. He seemed to know just how far to push and when to pull back.

She wanted to give him something back. She wanted to give him all the pleasure he’d given to her.

She reached behind and slid her hands over his hips to his taut buttocks. They flexed and rippled with each thrust, hard beneath her touch. She dug her fingers into his flesh and pulled him to her even as she swallowed him deeper.

Connor moved his hands from her face and then leaned over her to kiss her belly. She shivered and danced beneath his mouth and then his hands glided down her hips to part her legs.

He pulled them back until they were double and her pussy was exposed to his touch. His hips continued to pump against her mouth as his fingers dipped between her folds to the damp, sensitive flesh underneath.

She moaned around his cock and twisted restlessly as his fingers slipped inside her, stroking gently as his thumb toyed with her clit.

Then he withdrew and pulled back and knelt behind her. Gently he stroked his hands through her hair and closed his mouth over hers, smooching softly, her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes and then her forehead.

“I want inside you, Lyric,” he whispered. “I love your mouth, but I want you in my arms, your body wrapped around mine while I dive so deep that we lose ourselves in each other.”

Tears pricked her lids and they burned as she blinked to keep the moisture at bay. Didn’t he know she got lost in him every time he touched her?

He kissed her again, so exquisitely loving and gentle that she let out a sigh. He stroked her cheekbones and ran his fingers through her hair, and then he carefully raised her up so she was sitting on the bed.

She turned and got on her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck so she could kiss him. Everything she had, everything she was, she put into her kiss. She let go of all the things she’d been holding back and so dear.

She couldn’t get enough of him. She ran her hands up and down his back, up to his hair and then down again, hugging him to her, pressing her body into his as she devoured his mouth.

He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her up, holding her so tight she could barely breathe. He maneuvered them around and then fell forward onto the bed, his body over hers, her back pressed to the mattress.

“If I live to be a hundred years old, I don’t think I’d ever get enough of you,” he said between kisses. “You’re an addiction I can’t wait to feed. When you aren’t with me, I can’t wait to see you again. When you walk into the room, something inside me lights up. No one makes me feel like you do.”

“Oh, Connor,” she breathed. Whatever else she wanted to say got trapped behind the knot in her throat. Her nose swelled and stung as emotion clouded in and overwhelmed her.

“Make love to me,” she whispered. “Please. I need you.”

He went still above her and stared down as if he couldn’t believe she’d said the words. There was triumph—and relief—blazing in his eyes. He looked gobsmacked. Joy exploded onto his face and the lines around his forehead eased. It was as if she’d handed him the world, but in fact it was he who gave her so much. Every time. Himself.

“I’d give you the world if you asked,” he said as he nudged her thighs apart.

He reached for a condom and rolled it on, his gaze never leaving her.

His cock slid between her legs and he rubbed his length along her folds, teasing her with his rigid heat. She opened for him, wet and wanting.

He paused at her entrance, the head tucked barely inside. He nudged, opening her a little more, and then he stopped.

Again he kissed her, his tongue tangling hotly with hers. Then he propped himself on his forearms and flexed his hips forward, sliding smoothly, rippling through her pussy like a dive through deep water.

He was bowed over her, his much larger body covering hers protectively. But he moved like a dream, with grace that belied his size. There wasn’t a clumsy bone in his body. He made love like some people danced.

He nuzzled her neck and she turned, arching so that he had easier access. He tongued her ear and danced a circle around the shell until a thousand chill bumps skittered across her flesh.

Her heart was beating so hard that she could barely catch her breath. Her pulse raced and her body was alive as though a thousand ants crawled under skin. Every touch of his mouth, every thrust into her body, brought a shattering wave of pleasure so keen that it was nearly painful.

He withdrew until the head of his cock barely rimmed her entrance, and then he shoved back in, rippling through her slick flesh, sending aftershock upon aftershock coursing through her abdomen.

Her nipples tightened and dug into his chest like diamond points. Each movement abraded the ultrasensitive peaks until she was sure she was going to come apart.

“I want you there,” he murmured next to her ear. “You with me, Lyric. I won’t come until you’re there.”

“Oh God,” she panted. “I’m almost there, Connor. I can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m going to break into a million pieces. Please. Don’t hold back. Harder.”

Her words seemed to unleash the beast he held in tight rein. A sound of near pain, harsh in the silence, ripped from his throat. He gathered her tightly to him, wrapping his arms around her, pulling up as he plunged deep and hard.

His thighs slapped against hers and their bodies made wet sucking sounds as he pounded into her over and over.

The world went blurry around her. She closed her eyes, dizzy as she splintered and seemed to sail in a dozen different directions.

Her body was so tight, painfully so, that she cried out, begging for release.

And then she was catapulted up and over, free-falling at a hundred miles an hour. Her orgasm went on and on, never ending, wave upon wave crashing through her body.

He was coming too, his body commanding hers, owning her, possessing her. His.

She went limp beneath him, no longer able to even keep her legs or arms around him. He was in the last throes of his orgasm as he twitched and continued to thrust, easier and slower now as he slid in and out of her.

“Lyric,” he whispered and gathered her close to him, holding her as he breathed harshly in her ear.

He turned, rolling them to their sides, and pressed her face into his neck as he stroked her hair, her back, over her buttocks and back up again.

“I love you. God, I love you.”

Her heart stuttered, took a painful leap in her chest that stole her breath. She went still as his words drifted over her ears, quiet and sincere.

Her throat tightened, so tight it sent a wave of panic through her body.

Afraid that she’d completely lose her composure, she tried to push away from him and roll from the bed. But he caught her and held her, refusing to let her up.

It set off another wave of panic and she twisted and tried to sit up.

Connor rolled until she was underneath him once more. His body covered hers and he stared down at her with glittering eyes. She expected anger, but what she saw was grim determination.

“Goddamn it, Lyric, I just told you I loved you and you act like you can’t get away fast enough.”

She swallowed and shook her head helplessly as tears filled her eyes.

“I’ve been patient. I’ve let you run. But I’m not letting you run any longer. I want to know what the hell is going on and why you bolt every time we have sex.”

Connor stared down at the panic in her eyes. Her entire body was tense and there was a wildness that reminded him of a spooked animal about to take flight.

He knew he was taking a huge risk by forcing the issue. He could lose her. She could shut down and freeze him out, but he had to try. Damn it, he had to try. He couldn’t just give up and let her walk away. Not when this was the most important moment of his entire life.

“Stay with me, Lyric,” he said in a low voice. “Stay with me and explain why me telling you I love you has you in such a panic.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered. “It’s not real.”

“Doesn’t mean anything? Do you think I said that to get into your pants? Do you think I go around telling every woman I’ve slept with that I love her? I’ve got news for you, baby. I’ve already been in as deep inside you as a man can get. I didn’t need the words to make love to you. I didn’t have to say them now. But goddamn it, I love you. That’s real. It doesn’t get any more real.”

An endless stream of tears leaked from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. His chest ached so bad he wanted to cry with her. Whatever had hurt her, whatever had destroyed her faith in love, was killing him as well.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded. “I’m begging you not to walk away from this. I think you feel something for me too. Am I wrong? Did I get you all wrong?”

Slowly she shook her head as more silver trails slid from her eyes.

A tiny twinge of relief loosened the knot in his throat. It was an admission. A reluctant admission, but at least she hadn’t denied feeling something for him. He could work with that.

He shifted his weight to the side so he could discard the condom, and he hoped she wouldn’t use the opportunity to bolt. But she lay there on her back, staring up at the ceiling as tears etched a crooked path on her face.

She looked tired. Fragile. And scared.

He reached a tentative hand to brush away the moisture on her cheek. “Will you talk to me? Do you trust me enough to tell me what’s hurt you so badly?”

For a long moment she lay there, unmoving, quiet, as if gathering herself. To run? Or to confide in him? He couldn’t say with any authority which of the two she was leaning toward. Maybe she didn’t know herself.

When she finally did stir, he tensed, and then she rolled slightly until she faced him with haunted eyes. He wanted to do a fist pump. She’d made her decision and she was still with him. Still next to him. But he remained still, waiting for the revelation that was buried deep.

“My real name is Carly Winters. And you were right. I was born and raised in the South. Covington County, Mississippi.”

She waited a moment as if grappling with whether to go on. He willed himself not to stir, not to react. He didn’t want to do anything to change her mind.

“My father—my real father—left my mother when I was a baby. For a long time it was just me and her. We were dirt-poor but I was happy. She loved me and did her best. I adored her. She encouraged me to sing. In the evenings, I’d sing to her while she did dishes. She said she never got tired of hearing her baby’s voice. She always swore I’d be a star.”

She drew in a deep breath. “When I was nine, she met Danny Higgins. At first it was nice. She was so happy. So alive. I hadn’t realized how hard it had been on her until then. Suddenly she had help. She wasn’t alone. We moved in with him after they got married. He insisted my mother didn’t work. She’d worked two jobs until then. She worked in a local factory during the week and she waitressed in a café on the weekends.

“I can remember thinking that it was the start of a great new life for us. Suddenly we didn’t have to worry about where our next meal would come from. She no longer had to bring home leftovers from the café, and for the first time ever, she bought me new clothes from the rack in a store instead of getting them from Goodwill or neighbors who gave us their kids’ castoffs.

“But it didn’t last,” she said faintly. “Danny had a quick temper. It got even nastier when he’d drink. It was the whole cliché, stereotypical abusive husband. He’d drink. Hit my mom. Get sober. Apologize. I still think to this day she only stayed because I had a better life. Or at least she thought I did.”