Page 48 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
Icry and scream all sorts of profanities—ones I have not even heard.
I’m convinced Jackson Elias Moore—my no longer Headless Horseman—is the best kisser of all mankind.
Centuries without his mouth seem to sharpen these moments, intensifying them into a storm of emotion we can’t fathom. His mouth is a long-lost secret revealed. He is pouring those two centuries of longing and restraint into this soul-breaking kiss with endless hunger. But he is so perfectly controlled. God, his kiss shudders me down to my core!
Velvet lips, steel jaw. Even if he’s stealing my breath away, there is a tenderness beneath the intensity. Like he’s rediscovering something primal, but it takes nothing for him to seize it until he’s possessing me with that kiss.
God, this man can kiss! Breathless, I gasp in his mouth as he ignites every nerve in my body. I can’t fathom how all my thoughts have centered around his lips when his beast of a cock is buried inside me.
Jack, you’re everywhere!I feel his lips bowing to rub along my brow. He’s all around me. And I’m still holding his face, too afraid to let him go. Too afraid this will all be a dream. His natural musk surrounds me, the familiar leather, smoky cedar, and earthy vetiver.
From the moment he said he would never be separated from me, I knew it was the truth. And when he penetrated me, I fell apart from that awareness, from him sealing himself to me in a deeper way that transcends the flesh.
“I’ll always be here.”
Holy. Hecate! Is that his voice? His breath whispers across my face. He’s still seated in me, filling all of me, but he isn’t moving yet—not since we last convulsed together. There is something so torturous and intimate about how he can see me, but I cannot see him. Especially when he still wears his tunic and vest while I’m as bare as a willow in winter.
I don’t have to see him to know he is beautiful. A dark, masculine beauty. My breath hitches as heroams his mouth along the bridge of my nose. Closing my eyes, I lift one hand between us to touch my chest, my heart pounding madly. After everything that’s happened, how can I possibly last all night like this?
He’s ripped right through me—buried to the barest hilt.
“Belladonna…” he murmurs and opens his mouth upon my right cheekbone and then my left, carrying away my warm tears at the same time. “Belladonna.” He moves his lips to my jawline.
It’s not just chanting my name. It’s more of a prayer, a prayer of need. Tonight is the first time in two centuries he has uttered any words. He wants my name to reign with absolute sovereignty. Like he’s reclaiming the life he lost, one kiss at a time.
“Belladonna.” His voice is as deep and velvety as the one in my head, but far more gravel, more desire thickening as the hunger between us swells. I shiver as those lips wander along my jawline, and my pussy squeezes. I’m stretched and burning from his cock, but I’m drowning there, receiving and accepting him with all my being.
He pauses a breath above my lips. “My beautiful Belle.”
Something in him snaps when he claims my mouth in a searing kiss. He’s slammed through all my walls tonight. No, he scaled them like a roguish conqueror. I summoned him. Tonight, he’s staking his claim—staking so deep, our souls will crash and burn together.
My cheeks burn beneath his bewildering kiss. I don’t stop holding him. My hands don’t stray from his face—high cheekbones, rugged jaw, broken by a dusting of stubble, strong brow. I memorize the facial structure, knowing his brows are deep with hooded eyes. His hair is thick but soft and swept back from his head, falling along his lower neck to brush my throat.
I feel every inch of his highwayman’s head, knowing it will disappear by dawn.
With the strength of his jaw alone, he commands my mouth, forcing my head to tilt, giving him more of me. Ravenous for me. He’s embarking on a slow feast, but it’s no less intense. It’s a thing of beautiful greed and ownership. And neither feminism nor fairy tales can dictate the undeniable power I feel when I choose to beownedby this man. If he is a man possessed, then I will give myself to him until I am a woman possessed with him.
A soft moan escapes my throat, and I steal his groan into my lungs, determined to hold his voice there forever.
Sliding one hand to cup my ass, Jack lifts me while lowering his other to palm my breast.
Then—oh fuck!—he begins to move.
Pleasure shimmers through me as he pistons inside me. My breasts rub his chest, the nipples rasping against the velvety fabric. When the hand at my breast reaches up to capture my chin, I gasp as that pleasure inflames me, radiating through my whole body and gathering in my center most.
“Give me your eyes, my Belle. I can see you, sweet summoner. I want to see you. Ineedto see you. By all the spirits in heaven, I vow that I never wish to regain my sight unless it is you I am beholding, Belladonna Holloway.”
I gush, breath catching in my chest as he plants one kiss on my lips, then hovers there, making me feel more vulnerable than ever. Pressure intensifies in my core. Heat pulses and throbs and?—
“I want to see everything as I fuck you all night long…until you can no longer walk.”
I convulse. I explode. His words burn a path right through me like a fire at midnight, setting me ablaze like a funeral pyre—because I am utterly overthrown. Yes, my old life is gone. He is my inferno now.
Throwing my head back as the orgasm erupts through me, I don’t just see stars. I feel them weeping inside every vein and shooting through all my nerve endings until I’m clenching harder than ever all around him.
“Thunderation, Belle! Fuck!” he growls. “That’s my good girl, falling apart all around me. You fit me so goddamn good. Devil take me…!” He slams his fist on the wool throws before gripping my hip and sliding out before spearing me, pounding to the very back of my cunt. It only extends my climax until I’m raking my nails down his chest, ripping at his fabric, crying and moaning through the sensual waves of bliss.
“Hotter than the depths of hell,” he says, claiming my throat, scraping his teeth down the curvature. “I’d go to war with the devil himself if I could stay here forever.” He lowers his hand to where we are joined, and I tremble. Tremble in the throes of my climax. Tremble from the domineering intimacy of his touch. Tremble from his words mastering me.
