Page 162 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
With a squeal, I ran out of the bedroom and to the opposite side of the couch. He was there in a split second, playful and hard. He circled after me to the right, and I dodged left. He changed direction, but so did I. Then in a leap that was humanly impossible, he was over the couch and behind me. His right hand wrapped itself in my hair, pulling almost to the point of pain. His left circled my waist from behind. He lowered his lips to my ear.
"I have caught you, mi cielo. You are mine." He bent me over the back of the couch and entered me.
Even though I was still wet, I inhaled sharply as he stretched me to my limit. Slowly at first, he worked his shaft in and out, raking his fingers through my hair, down my back, around and over my breasts. He found a rhythm and reached around my hips to stroke between my legs.
His size and strength was almost painful. I was sure I'd have bruises, but all I could think about was how I wanted every part of him inside of me. The pressure built until I burst apart at the seams, screaming his name, and still he worked me until I'd come so many times my mind could form only incoherent thoughts, most revolving around pleasure and Rick.
Finally, he bucked, shivered, and draped himself across my back. A wet kiss landed on my neck, followed by a sharp nip. I stiffened. My blood poured into his mouth. Slowly, he started stroking again. The decadent tension built within me once more. I was hungry, so damned hungry. I turned my head and bit down on his inner arm, breaking the skin.
He moaned against my neck.
A mind-blowing orgasm ripped through both of us as his blood washed into my mouth, fueled by the magic that bound us to each other. I came again and again, shattering around him.
When he finished, we lay there, a heap of flesh on the back of his couch. He pulled out and offered me his hand.
"I'm not sure I can walk," I said honestly.
He beamed, tossed me into his arms, and carried me to his bed.
Versions of the Truth
Waking up in a lover's arms is one of the great joys of life. I turned in the circle of Rick's embrace to find him watching me.
"It's unsettling how little you sleep," I said.
"I could pretend for you if you'd like?" he replied in a voice as intoxicating as the body stretched out next to me.
"No, I'd rather know the truth. Speaking of, there are things I need to tell you about myself. Things you should know about my past if we are going to try to make this work."
"You forget, I was part of your past."
"Not my past life. I mean my romantic past."
Rick frowned. "You are only twenty-two, yes?"
"Yes."
"How much history could there be?" He laughed, nervously.
I grimaced. "You represent my foray into the double digits."
His brow wrinkled, and he scooted back as if to get a better look at me. "Are you saying, Grateful, that you have had intercourse with over ten men in your short life?"
"Well, yes. Normally, I wouldn't admit to it, but because you have waited for me, I thought you should know."
"And you did this why?"
"Don't think that I just slept with these people. I'm not a slut or anything. Every single one of them was a meaningful relationship."
Rick jumped a little as if I'd shocked him, and I realized that he might not consider a string of serious relationships any better than anonymous sex.
"I lived with the last one-er, Gary-and I dated the others for over a month each. I just can't seem to stick with someone for more than a year. Technically, I've never made it to a year, but you know what I mean."
"Marry me, Grateful. Put the past behind you."
"Don't you see what I'm saying? I'm terrible at this stuff. My relationships never last. I can't marry you because I don't want to be divorced in a year. Let's face it. We hardly know each other. If this is going to work, we need a firm foundation, something to build a life on. Let's take it slow and get to know each other."
Rick bounded out of bed and paced the floor, running his hands through his hair. "I know you, Grateful. Sometimes, I think, better than you know yourself. You are stalling, waiting for certainty in a life that offers no guarantees. You say to take it slow yet here we are, and what we have just done is anything but taking it slow. What are you afraid of?"
