Wild Card (24 page)

Wanted to hear her voice broken with lust, demanding and carnal.

"
Tell
me how to take you." He nipped the curve of her breast. "Tell me how you want it."

She shuddered, and he almost lost it when he felt her juices flood his fingers.

"Hard," she panted. "So hard. Now. Fuck me now."

"Against the wall? Here?"

"Oh God. Anywhere," she wailed. "Damn you. Give it to me. Now."

"Are you hot enough for it yet?" He kissed her shoulder, nipped it. "I don't think you're hot enough yet."

He wanted more. He needed the words. He had never needed the words before, but he did now.

He wanted her hot enough to forget herself, to forget the memories of how he used to love her,

to accustom herself to the bleak, dark lust that consumed him now.

"I'm hot enough," she moaned.

"Tell me how hot you are." He wrapped his free arm around her hips and lifted her to him,

stumbling to the table, ignoring her shock as he set her naked ass on the edge and knelt

between her thighs. "You're not hot enough. Let me help you out with that."

He laid his lips against the swollen folds and had to grip the base of his cock to hold back his

come. God, he was going to blow. He could feel it, building in his balls, throbbing at the head

of his cock.

She tasted so sweet. Her thighs parted as he lifted one small foot and placed it on his shoulder,

opening her further.

The light was better here, but still not good enough for her to the see the damage he had been

trying to clean up. Several of the cuts were almost deep enough for stitches. He needed to be in

the command center letting someone patch him up. Instead, he was here, his lips buried in his

wife's pussy and loving every second of it.

He licked and lapped at the little mound. She was so sweet, the flavor of her burst against his

tongue and he was ravenous. He stabbed inside the fluttering opening, feeling her clench,

hearing her moan as she leaned back, allowing him greater access to the treat that was fast

becoming as addictive as any drug.

Ah hell. He wanted to lick her forever. He wanted to immerse his senses in the tangy bite, the

sweet soft flavor and the clean feminine scent of her. He wanted her, for breakfast, lunch,

dinner, a midnight snack, and everything in between.

"Talk to me." The words were hard, brutally torn from his lips as he moved them to the hard

bud of her clit. "Tell me you like it. Tell me to eat you. To suck you forever."

He couldn't wait much longer. He wanted to tear the words from her lips. He had dreamed,

fantasized.

"Noah, lick my clit," she moaned. "Roll your tongue on it."

Ah God. Yes. She loved that, didn't she? The way he rolled his tongue over her clit. He gave it

to her. He gripped her thigh with one hand, pressed her legs further apart and gave her what she

needed.

He pumped his cock, a wild, agonizing sound of arousal falling from his lips as her hips jerked,

arched, and she cried out his name again.

"Noah. Oh yes. Like that." Her voice was high and thin. "Oh God. I'm going to come for you."

"Not yet." He pulled back and she almost screamed. Her hands caught in his hair, tangled in it, and she jerked him back to the hot, humid flesh awaiting his tongue, his lips.

"Lick my pussy." She was lost now, lost in the pleasure, and he shoved his tongue inside her,

fucked her with it and tasted all that hot, sweet cream flowing from her.

Ah hell. He was going to come in his hand at this rate. He didn't want to come in his hand. He

wanted to be high and deep inside her. Buried as deep as a man could get in a woman, filling

her, marking her.

He wanted to brand her with his seed. He wanted to be so deep inside her that she never forgot

who owned her body. Never.

But first, he had to tear himself away from her taste. And ah sweet merciful heaven, her taste.

Her taste was so hot on his tongue, liquid and filled with life. He didn't want to leave it. He

didn't want to stop.

"Give it to me." Her voice seared his senses. "Damn you, give it to me now, Noah. Fill me with your cock. Make me scream for you. Oh God, I'll scream for you, just do me now."

Noah jerked to his feet, his hand still wrapped around his cock, his senses filled with the taste

of her, the heat of her. And he pressed forward.

He watched her face, her eyes. Rolled the head of his cock against her clit and watched her

pant, watched as her hand pressed against her stomach, then, as he lowered himself, pressed

against her entrance, those pretty, graceful fingers moved to her clit. Shyly. Hesitantly.

During their marriage, he had never allowed her to touch herself while he was taking her. He

had taken full responsibility for her pleasure as well as his own. But she wasn't waiting now,

and the sight of it nearly had him erupting. With no more than the tip of his cock pressed inside

her, he was losing it.

He watched her fingers as he pressed deeper, his fingers tight at the base of his shaft to hold

back the furious release he could feel pounding in his skull.

"Do it." His voice was hard, thick. "Use your fingers. Show me what you like, baby. Damn

you. I'm going to fuck you so hard and so deep you'll never deny me again. Do you hear me,

Sabella. Never."

She had denied him that morning. Denied his place in her bed, denied what he knew was

between them. Why didn't matter. He was deceiving her, he knew it. Lying to her in the most

elemental of ways, and he couldn't say the words to fix that. But he wouldn't let her deny this.

He gripped her hips. Watched those pretty fingers. Ah God, so graceful, so slender, sliding into

the curls at the top of her mound, opening herself.

He felt on fire. His cock was a flame and it was destroying him. He pressed in, gritting his

teeth, grimacing at the complete, unadulterated pleasure in just feeling her. Seeing her. He

pushed in, pumping in short, hard strokes, working in-side her as her fingers slid to her clit,

circled it and became wet, glistening with her juices.

His stomach clenched. His balls went so tight they were in agony.

"Stroke it," he snarled. "Finger your clit, Sabella. I'm not going to last. Ah hell." He shoved in deep, to the hilt, felt her muscles fluttering around him, gripping, clenching.

He couldn't stop. He held her tight, feeling her legs wrap around his hips, her heels pressing

into his ass as he began pumping inside her. Hard and deep.

She was crying his name.
His
name. Not her husband's name. Sweet God have mercy on him,

how had he stayed away from her? How had he remained separated from this woman for so

many years? For even a day longer than he'd had to.

"Take me," he groaned, barely biting back the words that would betray who he was. What he

was. "Take me. damn you. Take all of me. All of me."

She was arching, clenching, her pussy so tight, contracting around him as he felt her explode

from the inside out.

Sabella existed in sensation. She was sensation. Pure, electric, nothing but energy and pulsing

consuming pleasure as she felt herself coming apart in Noah's arms. Dying in his arms and

being reborn. Screaming out his name and feeling
that
pleasure. A pleasure she had sworn

could never be felt twice. Only with one man. Only with one heart.

But she felt it pulsing through her and into him. Pulsing through him and into her. His come

spurted inside her, deep and hot, filling her, sinking into her and becoming a part of her.

She jerked, twisted, arched to the extremity of the orgasm racing through her, and then finally

collapsed back on the table. Sweat dampened, too tired to move, to breathe, to exist without his

help.

And he was still hard.

She opened her eyes as he lifted her to him, remained connected to her in the most elemental

fashion and carried her through the dark apartment to the big bedroom at the end of the

building.

He laid her back in the bed, and moved within her again. Blue eyes so dark it hurt to stare into

them. His hands hard, his voice so rough and gravelly it was almost another sensation against

her overly sensitized flesh.

"I need you." He shook his head, jaw clenching. "I need you more."

Forever.

Sabella shook the thought away. Nothing lasted forever except her love for the husband that

had been taken from her. Nothing lasted forever.

But as the night deepened and dawn came closer, it felt like forever. And when he finally

collapsed beside her, wet with sweat, his arms dragging her to his chest, his breathing finally

easing as she slipped into exhausted sleep, she wondered if maybe, a little bit, he did feel like

her
Nathan.

Sabella was furious the next morning after returning to the house, showering, and dressing for

work. A scratch, he had told her the night before. He wasn't hurt, he was fine.

It was more than a damned scratch. She had caught him when she awoke trying to bandage

himself, thinking he could hide from her. Damn him.

There were three long slices on his upper body. One across his bicep, one at his abdomen, and

again at the hip, and they were deep. Deep enough she had insisted he go to the doctor.

He had refused. When he had pinned her with the blazing determination to do it all his own

way, for a second she could have sworn he had the same look in his eye, the same tense set of

his face and body, the same shape of his jaw, that her husband had had when he was angry and

determined in the face of her anger.

It had been frightening to see, to acknowledge. Because sometimes, she saw those little things,

and she was terrified she was trying to turn Noah into the man she had lost simply to justify her

need, her overhelming hunger for him.

And of course, Noah wouldn't tell her how it had happened or even what had happened. A

"disagreement," he'd said.

She was so pissed that she walked to the garage later after she had returned to the house, rather

than driving, simply to give herself time to cool down just a little bit more.

Entering the garage, she stared as Noah stepped from the open doors, wiping his hands on a

shop towel as he lifted his hand and watched Toby as he approached on foot from the other side

of the street.

Sometimes, Toby walked to work. He said it kept him in shape. She watched as Noah walked

along the cracked blacktop in front of the station, eyes narrowed, body tense.

Sabella paused, looking around, wondering what had caught his attention, but she couldn't see

anything. She shook her head and took another step, watching as Toby strolled to the corner of

the street. He stepped off the curb and started across the wide road when she heard it. A motor

gunning.

A black car, low and fast, windows tinted, squealed from its parked position and aimed for

Toby.

"Toby!" She screamed his name as the car barreled toward him.

Toby's head jerked up, expressing surprise at the sound, and he turned, facing the vehicle

speeding toward him.

Sabella ran. She would never reach him in time. She could see, knew the driver had every

intention of running him over. She wouldn't make it to the end of the driveway, Toby wouldn't

reach the sidewalk.

She saw, almost in slow motion as Toby jerked and tried to run. The car followed, heading

straight for him as Sabella screamed and tried to run faster.

The morning sun beat down on her, fear and rage pumped through her. She couldn't let this

happen. She couldn't let someone else she cared about be taken. Toby was a kid, just a kid.

As she screamed Toby's name again, horrified, Noah streaked across the road, seconds, oh

God, seconds in front of the car, his broad, powerful arm wrapping around Toby's thin waist

and threw them both across the road, rolling over the sidewalk and into the gully beside it as

the car's tires hit the sidewalk seconds behind them and then roared off.

The big, white blond giant Rory had hired in place of the mechanic he had fired was across the

road in a flash. He jumped into the gully as Sabella raced across the street.

Noah. Oh God. Oh God. Noah. He had to be okay. She had seen him. Hadn't she seen him roll

to that gully before the car hit the sidewalk?

She didn't realize she was screaming his name until someone grabbed her from behind, holding

her back as the mechanics raced into the incline.

"Noah!" she screamed, sobbing, clawing at the arms holding her back. "Noah!"

"Sabella. Stop. Enough!" Rory shook her, his voice harder than she had ever heard, his hands

rough as he jerked around, glaring down at her.

"Let me go!" Her fists struck out, one landing on his jaw, knocking him back, as she tore

herself away from him and stumbled over the incline.

Toby was sitting up, dazed, but Noah wasn't moving. Blood seeped down his arm, darkened his

shirt at his waist, his thigh.

The big mechanic, Nik, was leaning over him, slapping his face with hard, rough hands.

"Don't you touch him!" She barreled into the bigger man, threw him off balance. "Call an

ambulance!" she barked to the men standing around staring at her as though she were crazy.

"Now or I'll fire every friggin' one of you!"

She was running her hands over his body. She lifted the edge of his shirt to see the blood

oozing from the vicious cuts at his side and on his abdomen from the night before. His jeans