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“Ride me, Cat. Come on, baby, destroy me with your love.”
With her love?
Oh God, she loved him.
She hated him and she loved him. Ached for him, and ached because of him. And she couldn’t refuse either of them this shocking pleasure.
Straddling his powerful hips, her knees settled into the cushions at each side of him as she leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest. With her eyes locked on his, Cat shifted back with her hips, fighting to breathe as his jutting erection began to part the slick, swollen folds guarding her sheath.
The gold of his eyes shifted to that wild jungle green, the stripes along his face slowly fading away. His hands gripped her hips, leading her gently, teaching her how to move against him, how to ride him with a steadily increasing pace.
“What do you do to me?” It was a plea, a sob, an inability to understand why she succumbed so easily to him and to his touch.
“I didn’t create you, Cat,” he whispered, the hoarse rasp of his voice multiplying the ache growing inside her. “You were created for me, to hold back the madness. You are my sanity.”
Thrusting inside her with a surge of power, parting her snug sheath and burying to the hilt.
“Oh God . . . Graeme,” she cried out, only barely aware that she hadn’t called him G, and she hadn’t called him Gideon.
“Ride me, Cat,” he rasped, moving beneath her as the chaotic pleasure of moments before began to spiral inside her once again.
Each forceful, burning penetration of his iron-hard flesh had a whimper parting her lips. The pleasure was brutal. Locked in his gaze, moving above him, lifting and falling into the heavy thrusts between her thighs, Cat became lost in him. Her lashes drifted nearly closed, the sensual weakness building even as the scorching pleasure burned out of control.
“That’s it, Cat, take me,” he growled, his expression tightening, hands gripping her hips tighter as he pushed so deep inside her she swore he penetrated her soul. “Give to me, baby. Give me all of you.”
He had all of her.
“All of me . . .” The cry was torn from her as his thrusts became harder, faster, driving inside her in jackhammer strokes that pushed her over the edge of reason, of reality, and had her exploding in a kaleidoscope of flaming, overwhelming ecstasy.
Beneath her, she felt Graeme tightening, a hoarse growl surrounding her as the blinding heat of his release jetting inside her sent her racing into another explosion of blinding pleasure. It was never ending, a rapturous pleasure she could never anticipate, found impossible to believe could be so incredible in the cold light of day.
A pleasure that locked them together as the barb emerged and spilled a secondary release as it pushed her past yet another rocking orgasm. Her sheath tightened on him, locking around the engorged shaft, rippling over it, ensuring nothing, no one could tear him from her.
For this moment he was here with her and he belonged to her alone. Not the madness, science or Jonas could tear her from him as long as she held him so deep inside her that she didn’t know where he ended and she began.
Collapsing, Cat found herself sheltered against his chest, held by his powerful arms against the heat of his body and protected, for the moment, by the sheer strength he exuded.
• • •
Cat hadn’t expected to dream.
She’d learned years before how to block from her mind the horrors she’d experienced as a child, so nightmares had been rare. Not that she hadn’t experienced many of them in the first few years after coming into the Martinez household. But never like this.
She’d never been taken back to the research center she’d been raised in, where she’d experienced such pain she’d begged Gideon to let her die. She’d pleaded with him to just let her go.
“He would have never survived if you had died, Cat.”
She jerked around, her eyes widening at the image of the fragile woman-child whose life she’d been given. Claire Martinez could have been her twin, even before the minor plastic surgery that had ensured she was never suspected to be anyone else.
She’d talked to Claire many times in the past years since her spirit had been bound to Claire’s through that ancient ritual the night of the girl’s wreck. But never like this. Never in a dream, and definitely never in this place.
“What are we doing here, Claire?” she asked, staring around the enclosing cage warily.
That was all it was, really. A cage. One wall was glaring white, the other three were steel bars reinforced with an electric charge. The only privacy had been a tiny toilet room. There hadn’t even been a shower. Just a toilet and a tiny sink to wash their hands and brush their teeth. Showers were under strict supervision.
“You never left here, Cat,” Claire sighed, staring around the small area as she sat on the cot across from her. “You’ve always been trapped here.”
Cat stared back at her, forcing her heartbeat to remain calm and steady.
