Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [83]
Lost to their passion, she barely understood what he asked. Fortunately, her body responded by instinct. She shifted her legs and his hand pushed between their bodies, long fingers sifting through her dark curls, along the swollen folds hot with her fevered desire. She flinched at the intrusion, at the two fingers chilled from the water; the contrast of the high heat within her body and the iciness of his invading touch only served to heighten the sensations. They didn’t stay cold for long; her liquid arousal poured on to his clever magician fingers, quickly warming them.
A breathy moan escaped her on a sigh, as a white-hot spasm pulsed through her. Jago saw she was near to climaxing, smiled at her rapid surrender. Triumphant, he brushed a kiss against her lips. “Wrap your legs around my hips,” he laughed, “and hang on.”
She slid her arms around his neck and let the water’s buoyancy help her obey. He grabbed her hips and lifted her to position his erection against her body. His penetration came with a hard thrust, shocking her, making her spine arch until she breathed in, taking him fully inside her. That brought her breast up high. He caught the tip of her right nipple, sucking hard, in the same rhythm as he bucked within, causing the muscles of her internal walls to tighten about his searing flesh.
“Ahhhhhh . . .” Consumed by the sensations of their bodies being joined, Asha moaned low in her throat as the explosion spun through her body.
“Shall we start counting, lass?” Jago teased. Then he brought her down savagely, slamming upward within her. From that angle, his movements easily forced her to shudder with another release.
“Ah, counting?” She admitted truthfully, “Not sure . . . I . . . can.”
His buttocks flexed as he used how she floated to help her move against him, with him. “This water is so cold . . . it’s having an odd effect, lass. It’s slowing down my climax . . . so this might take some time.”
“Oh, pity that.” She chuckled as she locked her ankles behind him. “Guess I’m glad I am multiorgasmic then.”
“You’re glad?” Laughter rumbled in his chest.
Despite their touching ability to laugh even within such an intense focus of emotion, Asha felt the pure animalistic need unfurl within his muscles. His hands on her hips guided her to rise and fall ever so slowly along his rigid erection, sending sensations to whip through her blood. Her brain experienced a bubbling vibration, drawing her closer to faintness. Pushed by a frenetic appetite, her hands clutched his shoulders, her nails scored his flesh; even so he refused to increase the maddening pace.
As he took her mouth with his, his gasping breath echoed hers. His ravenous desire was a power unleashed. There was no controlling it; both of them were helpless against its voracious fire that consumed them, destroyed them, remade them, born from the flames like mating phoenixes. This was raw, primeval, as elemental as a stallion claiming his mare. Despite the primordial earthiness of their emotions there flared something bright, something rare that existed both born of their passion—and beyond it. Plunging himself to the hilt, he pushed her agony and ecstasy higher and higher. . . . until the world exploded.
With some last shred of sanity, Jago dragged them to the white sand and collapsed with her. Minutes passed before either of them had any sort of reasonable functions, but finally the world came into focus and Asha stared up at his beautiful face, at the green eyes, shining with cherished emotions.
She wanted to gift him with the words in her waiting to spring free. Wanted to tell him how much she loved him, that her surrender to him was complete, body, heart and soul. Over the past days she’d suspected he was falling in love with her, yet she still worried if she deluded herself, saw what she wanted to see. Thus the words remained locked within her fragile heart, waiting, hoping for him to speak.
Instead, he reached out and pulled her to him, kissing her with such tenderness that