“Relax for me, baby,” he encouraged. His hand stroked her belly with that patient gentleness she was coming to associate with him.
She made an effort to do as he instructed, and he slipped in a couple more inches. It felt scary and wonderful. The burn was exquisite—it was also terrifying and painful. She felt a part of him. The cool night air teased at her body like fingers sliding over her skin. Above her was his face, that beloved face, his eyes looking down at her with a mixture of lust and something else, an emotion she had never believed in, but now was beginning to accept might actually exist—in this man.
Amaryllis felt overwhelmed with a sudden rising emotion she could only identify as love, and that scared her to death. She had never expected to feel so much for another human being. For a moment, he leaned down to kiss her. When he did, he surged forward. She felt that bite of pain and then he was fully in her, buried deep, stealing her breath and her heart.
“Kiss me back, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “You’re freaking out for no reason at all. You’re safe with me.”
“Am I?” She needed the reassurance because having him in her body, letting him take her heart and soul, was terrifying. “You have to be real, Malichai.”
“I’m more real than you can imagine, Amaryllis.”
She didn’t have to imagine anything, not with his body buried so deep in hers. Not with his mouth taking control of hers. She couldn’t help but give herself to him. He began to move as he lifted his head, at first gently. Flashes of fire spread through her with every thrust of his hips. She couldn’t breathe with the flames reaching to her lungs and licking over her skin.
He seized her hips and she felt every one of his fingers gripping her tightly. He thrust faster. Harder. Deeper. It felt as if streaks of lightning raced through her body, spreading flames everywhere. Every hard jolt sent her breasts swaying, a sexy thrill that added to the sensual sensation.
He lifted her bottom, holding her still while he plunged into her. Again and again. Over and over. The breath rushed out of her lungs, leaving them empty and burning raw. Everything in her seemed to center in one place, the tension building and building. Winding tighter and tighter. Coiling deep. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t think.
There was only Malichai in her world. Malichai’s body moving in hers, creating that fiery friction that scored through her until she was nearly sobbing his name. Her fingers found the mattress, digging deep to hold on to some sort of reality. Streaks of fire raced from her sex to her breasts, dozens of bright hot arrows, shooting through her body. All the while her center just coiled tighter and tighter until she thought she might go insane.
She felt his cock expanding, pushing at her tight sheath. She could feel his heart beat as he stretched her impossibly. It was so sexy, just like his face, those sensual lines carved deep. He kept moving in her, an impressive piston, surging so deep that each thrust robbed her of her ability to think straight.
“Let go for me, baby,” he coaxed. “Just let go. I’m right here. Let go for me.”
She had to, there was no other choice. It was terrifying, like the highest roller-coaster ride she could imagine, where that drop might be the very end of her, or the greatest thrill of her life. She fought for a breath, and looking into his eyes, let her body take over completely.
The tsunami was far bigger than the last one he’d induced, rushing over her like that tidal wave that refused to be held back. One swell followed the next, each one larger, stronger, much more powerful, her body rippling with pleasure. Colors sparkled behind her eyes and she felt herself being flung out somewhere else, floating in a sea of sheer indulgence. Sensual. Sexy. Perfect.
She took him with her, clamping down on his cock like a vise, the friction exquisite, demanding everything from him. Every last drop. She wanted it all, everything he had, and he gave it to her. She felt the hot splash of his seed, inside that glove, that was how tight the fit, the stretch in her muscles he created. She cried out as he emptied himself into her, as her body responded to the fierce jerking and pulsing of his with more hot, passionate shocks.
He lay over top of her, fighting for breath, his face pressed against her throat. She could feel his harsh breathing, matching her own ragged desperation. It seemed like forever before he kissed her throat and then pulled slowly out of her with clear reluctance. She hissed as another exquisite wave rushed over her. Any little movement seemed to trigger an orgasm, not that she was complaining, but it was rather shocking.
Amaryllis stretched, her eyes on him as he tied a knot in the condom and set it aside before turning back to her. She lay looking up at the stars, her body still rippling occasionally, sending little shock waves through her. Malichai remained on his stomach, his arm around her hips, pillowing his head on her belly. His thick, dark hair teased her stomach, adding to the sensations moving through her body, until all she could feel was bliss. Sheer bliss. She hadn’t known a body could feel that way and continue to feel it even afterward.
Her fingers idly slid through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Malichai, do you really want me to marry you? As in the real thing? A forever kind of thing?”
No one had ever really wanted her, not for herself, her own sake. Whitney had wanted to conduct his experiments on her, even as a child. She didn’t have a sisterhood, because Whitney had separated the girls, afraid they would be loyal to one another, not to him. He was a monster. There was no being loyal to him. He might have been her only parent figure, but she had known, early on, that something was very wrong with him. Some of the other girls hadn’t figured it out for a long time and she felt bad for them. They had needed a parent. She might have needed one, but she had come to the conclusion, very early, that Whitney was not that person.
Malichai lifted his head and pressed kisses over her belly. So many. Each found its way inside her. His lips were warm and soft, yet so firm, sliding over her skin like living flames. His teeth nipped, stinging deliciously, and then his tongue stroked, easing that little ache that seemed to trigger more explosions inside her.
“Forever is what I’m asking of you, Amaryllis. I want you to come home with me, marry me, stay with me no matter what happens. To do that, you’re going to have to trust me.” He rested his chin on her belly, his eyes that peculiar shade of Florentine gold. When his eyes were that color, his gaze seemed to burn his name right into her bones, branding her his.
“I trust you.” She thought she did . . . She did . . . It was difficult.
“You’re getting there,” he said. “I expect, after Whitney, trusting anyone would be hard, but trusting a man you barely know would be next to impossible.”
“Not impossible. I watched you all the time, Malichai.” She had. Every move he made. Every word he’d said. If there was a stalker, it wasn’t Malichai. It had been her. From the moment he’d offered to fix the dishwasher, inserting himself into Marie’s and Jacy’s lives, she’d observed him, needing to protect her friends from possible trouble.
She knew how he moved. How he turned his head. What he looked like when he took a breath. His smile. God. His smile. How could anyone resist his smile? It came slowly and then lit those golden eyes. Sometimes his eyes seemed to be the color of whiskey, then a deeper amber, and finally, finally, her favorite, that Florentine gold. She loved that burn as the flames licked over her skin and went bone deep. That was when she felt the closest to him.