The Callahan's: Ultimate Sins Part 8

"This is crazy."

She moaned, her head tipping back on her shoulders as he cupped the swollen curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She was helpless. The moment he sucked her nipple into the moist heat of his mouth, the world around her disappeared.

Vivid, pulsing heat struck at her p.u.s.s.y as his tongue lashed at the sensitive peak. Sensation poured through her-brilliantly hot, spilling slick, heavy moisture as her body prepared itself for his possession. Her stomach clenched, stealing her breath before the sensations struck at her c.l.i.t, swelling it tighter, pushing her closer.

If he would just suck the tender flesh tighter and amplify the rising sensations already burning through her.

"So good," she panted, her voice rough, rasping.

She didn't even recognize the sound of it.

All she recognized was the rising demand for more.

More of his touch, more of his kisses and the wild hunger burning between them.

As she lifted closer to him, his lips released the pleasure-tortured tip long enough to order, "Look at me, fairy-girl."

Her lashes lifted drowsily, her gaze falling to his then to where his tongue peeked out to rub against the velvety point as one hand stroked down her belly, his fingers finding the wet silk between her thighs.

"h.e.l.l," he groaned. "This is why you were at the spa last week?"

This was the smooth, curl-free folds between her thighs.

Had she somehow known this night would come?

"Ah h.e.l.l, Amelia!"

Awe? Regret? What emotion filled his voice as his fingers slipped beneath the leg band of her panties to find the bare folds of her s.e.x.

And the slick layer of her juices covering them.

Should she be ashamed that even as he touched her, more of the slick, heated dampness spilled from her?

Should she be embarra.s.sed as his fingers stroked, caressed, and left her gasping for air?

"Oh baby, you're so hot and wet," he muttered against her nipple.

His touch glanced over her c.l.i.t. The violent wave of pleasure that suddenly struck at her senses pushed her so close to her release that her breath caught. She was certain the little wave of ecstasy would bury her beneath the explosive sensations her body was so desperate for as he found her other nipple.

A second later the firmness of his touch eased, pulling her back from that edge-only to push her higher once again.

"Crowe, please," she cried out desperately, widening her legs farther, hips arching forward to let his fingers find the clenched, snug entrance of her s.e.x.

Releasing her nipple again he lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers as the tip of his finger began easing inside.

"Sweet tight little p.u.s.s.y," he crooned. "As tight as you were the first time I had you."

The first time she had been a virgin.

This time she knew what was coming.

His fingers eased deeper inside her.

"Crowe. Yes, G.o.d, please..."

The violent shaft of sensation rocked her body with fiery bursts of such exquisite pleasure she was certain release was only a second away.

Pulling back, still using a single finger, he penetrated to the farthest depths of her v.a.g.i.n.a then rubbed.

Whimpering brokenly, her nails digging into the shirt covering his shoulders, she fought to fall from the edge of complete rapture he had her poised on.

"Please. Crowe, please," she cried out, hips writhing, ecstasy threatening to overtake her.

"Shh," he murmured, his gaze dark and filled with l.u.s.t. "I won't leave you hurting, baby. I promise."

But she was hurting now.

She knew she would hurt later.

Her womb clenched again, a hard spasm of pure sensual intensity that once again stole her breath.

"Easy, baby," he breathed as he pulled back the deep thrust of his finger.

"Easy?" she gasped, disbelief filling her for a brief second. "Are you crazy, Crowe? You're killing me."

In the next second her eyes opened wide, lips parting on a breathless, soundless scream as two broad fingers pushed inside her.

They stretched her, opened her.

Her inner flesh rippled, flexing around the intruders, her juices spilling to slicken and heat the delicate muscles as Crowe stroked and rubbed inside her with each firm thrust.

"Do you like that, fairy-girl?" he ground out, his voice a hard, hungry rasp as he worked his fingers inside her again, twisting, stroking sensitive tissue, and violently awakening nerve endings.

Amelia leaned back slowly, desperate for each sensation, locked in a battle to reach that farthest edge of sensation where complete rapture waited.

"Oh G.o.d, yes." Strangled, shocked, breathless: The sound of her own voice barely penetrated the haze of pleasure surrounding her, sinking inside her.

"Lie back for me, Amelia."

Leaning over her, he eased her to her back before dropping a kiss on her lips and straightening once again.

With one hand he guided her feet, first one then other, until they rested against the edge of the island, her knees bent, thighs splayed.

Forcing her lashes to lift, she watched him, his golden gaze locked on her p.u.s.s.y as his fingers slid back, releasing his possession of her, despite the tight flex of her muscles tightening around them.

How had she lived all these years without this? How had she lived without him for so long?

"Crowe." She would have sobbed his name, but she couldn't find the breath. "Please ... please..."

Bending over her again, his fingers began moving inside her as she worked her p.u.s.s.y against each hard thrust, feeling the pleasure building, her body tensing.

Dressed in nothing but high-cut panties, the leg band straining where he'd simply pushed it aside to possess her, Amelia found herself wishing she'd simply omitted the panties altogether that morning.

"Deeper," she begged, her voice harsh, desperate, burning need searing her v.a.g.i.n.a as the clenching, steadily rising hunger and pleasure surged higher with each fierce stroke of his fingers inside her.

"Deeper, baby?" he moaned against her breast as he began kissing his way down her torso to the tight clench of her stomach.

Before he moved to the sensitive flesh between her thighs, he held the silk to one side and paused long enough to watch his fingers retreat from her inner flesh, thick juices coating his flesh.

A second later he took her again, the digits pushing in deep, hard, nearly sending her exploding into bliss.

As his fingers thrust inside her, his tongue flicked over the swollen bud of her c.l.i.t. He tasted her with quick, firm flicks of his tongue and hard, tight suckling kisses along her flesh.

Amelia couldn't hold back her cries.

Pleasure swamped her, infused her. Crowe's lips and the heated interior of his mouth drew on the hard point, sucking it firmly, his tongue rubbing it, rasping against it as he f.u.c.ked her hard, deep, sending jagged flares of ever-deepening pleasure to pierce her senses.

The hard knot of her c.l.i.t swelled further, pulsing as the storm shook her body and flares of sensation tore through her.

Sensation exploded inside the tortured depths of her p.u.s.s.y with a violence that dragged a gasp of agonizing pleasure from her lips. Echoing stronger, deeper in her womb, it peaked in her c.l.i.t in a furious explosion of pleasure. It was both agony and ecstasy.

Cataclysmic. Furious.

The sensations held her in a grip of overwhelming, burning rapture.

She wanted it to last forever. She feared another second of it would destroy her.

Locked in the grip of pure s.e.xual intensity, she wanted nothing more than to burn in the sensual flames until nothing else existed, until nothing could pull her from it.

Crowe jerked at his belt, the painfully hard erection beneath his jeans demanding Amelia's attention.

He'd learned over the years that no other woman could ease that clawing need locked in his b.a.l.l.s.

No other woman had the power. Only Amelia had ever satisfied that need.

A need he'd never known until he touched her, possessed her, seven years ago.

As he slipped the leather belt free, the computerized alarm system gave a harsh beep before announcing, "Bas.e.m.e.nt entrance."

Amelia jerked at the sound, her eyes widening. She came off the island counter, scrambling for her clothes.

Eyes narrowed, he watched her frantic search for her clothes, then the fumbling haste to get them on.

He had no fear, no sense of worry or concern for her safety, but her nervousness definitely had him curious. So curious he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter to wait.

"Would you not just stand there?" she muttered, moving hurriedly from the family room back to the kitchen.

She was now fully dressed, her hair a little less mussed than it had been, her expression irritated.

His lips parted to ask her exactly what she wanted him to do when she suddenly gasped, "Oh my G.o.d! Crowe, fix your belt. Now!"

His brow lifted.

"Bas.e.m.e.nt stairs." The computerized voice announced before Crowe could say anything.

"Fix it now!" she hissed before quickly turning around in front of him as though to hide the fact that he had been preparing to undress.

"Amelia," he growled, fixing the belt. "What the h.e.l.l-"

Before he could finish, Amelia's new-found brother, John Caine, stepped in the kitchen, his expression hard, his gray eyes flat and cold.

At the sight of Crowe, he relaxed marginally, though the question in his eyes as he looked between Amelia and Crowe was unmistakable.

Amelia nervously cleared her throat before stepping to open the refrigerator.

"Do you two want a beer, or coffee?" she asked, breathless, her hands shaking.

"Get out of the kitchen." Stepping to her, Crowe pulled her back before closing the appliance. "He doesn't want a beer."

"How do you know?" Pulling her arm from his grip and shooting him a glare, she looked ready to shatter from nerves.

"Because I've known him far too long for either of us to be comfortable."

John only grunted.

"Oh." She turned back to John slowly before frowning at Crowe again. "Then you knew he was investigating Wayne as the Slasher?"

He could see the accusation in her eyes, the fear that he had suspected Wayne and hadn't told her.

"Unfortunately, I didn't," Crowe a.s.sured her. "Nor did I know he suspected Wayne was his father. If I had, then I might have figured things out quicker."

"I doubt that." John stepped farther into the room, suspicion filling his eyes as his gaze lingered a second too long on Amelia's neck before he looked at Crowe. "It didn't help me figure things out quicker."

There was a silent warning in the man's eyes, and Crowe knew it was for him. The warning to stay away from Amelia tempted Crowe to prove that no one would keep Amelia from him ever again.

"I wondered why your truck was outside." John at least tried to show a little tact where the question was concerned.

"Why did you think it was out there?" Crowe drawled.

Surprisingly, Amelia was the one who spoke up. "Crowe just stopped by to make certain everything was okay." She cleared her throat as she clasped her hands in front of herself again. "The reporters are still refusing to leave."

"b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," John bit out. "They'll give up soon, though, I think. There's not much more to report now that Wayne's dead."

John crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, giving Crowe a look that promised they would talk later.