Toxic Game Read online Christine Feehan (GhostWalkers #15)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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His first taste was amazing. Exquisite. Wintergreen. Delicate. Her entire body jerked and shuddered. A little gasp escaped, and he glanced up to look at her sprawled out on the bed before him like a feast. Her face was flushed. Her full breasts swayed enticingly with every movement. Her hips bucked, the long legs bent and spread wide, his hands clamped there like shackles around her thighs. Her lips were parted, breath coming in ragged gasps, the color sweeping up her body to her face. The gold around her throat and wrists gleamed in the moonlight and the fiery gems blazed at him.

He would never forget the sight of her, waiting for him. Eyes a little dazed. The sound of her soft keening surrounding him. She didn’t plead out loud, but he saw the aching hunger in her eyes. She didn’t know what she wanted, but he did. He settled between her thighs and licked up the inside of her leg. His teeth scraped and then nipped. Her hips bucked hard.

“Settle, my beautiful wife.” He breathed warm air across those honeyed curls. “I intend to indulge myself. I’ve waited a very long time for you, and I’m going to make sure you’re just as needy as I am.” He wanted to make certain everything he did brought her pleasure.

“I’m not complaining.” Her voice shook. So did her body.

He took his time, nuzzling her, pulling her erotic scent into his lungs. There was the elusive perfume he had come to associate with her. Wintergreen. Peonies. His personal peony. His tongue moved over her, swirled around her clit and then, when she gasped, plunged deep. She cried out and he took advantage of his strength, holding her thighs open so he could feast. He created a suction cup with his tongue, and then flattened it.

Draden was careful to be gentle, giving her time to get used to the unfamiliar sensations racing through her. Several times she cried out and her hips bucked ferociously, her breathing more ragged than ever, encouraging him to continue. Each time it happened, he added a little something more. His tongue. His hand cupping her. Fingers circling her. Thumb flicking. Every stroke took her higher. Gave him more liquid honey.

Love welled up, mixing with lust, a shocking turn-on that shook him past anything he’d ever felt before. Each stroke of his hand on her soft skin, the taste of her in his mouth, the way she filled his mind, made him feel complete. The intensity of feeling every single sensation rushing through his body when he was so utterly focused on her, determined to give her the best possible experience, only brought him more pleasure than he’d ever known.

Each time she got close, he backed off. He needed her desperate. She was tight. Too tight, and he wasn’t a small man. He waited until the sounds she made were little chanting demands. Her body was flushed and moving without direction, always seeking his mouth and fingers—his strumming thumb. She thrust with every rhythm he created. Only then did he take her over. She went hard, the orgasm sweeping through her, ripping like a powerful tidal wave.

Her low, keening cry sent heat spiraling through his body and a rush of desire down his spine. He was on his knees, his cock lodged in her. He needed to see her eyes and she opened them, shock on her face as he steadily pushed through those tight, hotter than hell muscles. Her body reluctantly gave way, opening for him when he demanded.

Already the friction was so much it was scalding. Fiery. A velvet fist gripping him hard and squeezing rhythmically. He hit the thin barrier and felt her wince for the first time. He gripped her hips and surged through while her body was still rippling with the aftereffects of her orgasm.

Shylah gasped, her mouth forming a round O. Her eyes went hazy. He stopped moving and she instantly protested, thrusting up to impale herself on his cock. He filled her, stretching that tight channel, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of being inside her. Paradise. He’d known that was what she’d feel like.

He was gentle, taking his time, each stroke a long, slow build to send streaks of fire racing through her. He lifted her bottom, his hands on her hips, guiding her as he moved in her. Every surge forward jolted her breasts, so they swayed and danced, heightening his pleasure. Her stomach muscles rippled with life. Her breath came in ragged explosions and her eyes went wide and dazed. He was a visual man. Seeing his woman with that dazed, almost shocked pleasure on her face, feeling her response, her body moving with his, those tight muscles massaging a burning friction into the shaft of his cock, heightened the sensations racing through his body.



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