Page 82 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

She jerked against him as she felt it building inside her, felt the change in him, the depth of his touch, the longing in his ragged groans. There was more than just the possession of her body, the sleek, thick intrusion of his cock inside her.

"God help me!" The harsh words, torn from his chest, had her womb convulsing as his thrusts became harder, deeper.

His hands held her to him, his head buried between her breasts as she felt his struggle to breathe, her struggle to breathe, felt the world darkening around her as each stroke of his cock inside her pushed her higher, burned her deeper.

"Clint...." Her hands tightened in his hair as she felt her pussy tighten around his invading cock. "Oh God, yes. Deeper. Harder. Harder, Clint. Take me-"

"Mine!" The sudden, furious burst of emotion in his voice triggered her explosion. The possessiveness the dominance, the hard, unconscious demand, swept through her, triggering an orgasm she hadn't expected.

Lights exploded behind her tightly clenched eyelids, brilliant bursts of light snapping through her head as she felt the; sudden release sweeping through her body, her senses.

It overtook her, flung her into a midnight sky, and left her shuddering as aftershocks tore through her body. The feel of Clint's release, hard, heated pulses of his semen jetting inside her as his hands tightened with bruising strength at her back, held her on the edge of ecstasy, refusing to release her as another hard orgasm tore through her.

Never ending. Unstoppable. She felt his lips, his teeth, at the side of her breast, marking her, stamping his ownership onto her just as his body fought to mark her with the hard, pulsing ejaculation filling her.

How long it lasted she didn't know. She didn't care. With each shudder of pleasure tearing through her, she felt Clint own another part of her soul. As though he hadn't already possessed her heart, he was filling her very spirit.

Finally, the strength left her body. As though only the hunger and the hard spear of his erection had kept her upright Morganna collapsed against his chest, spent, overwhelmed Weakness flooded her, sapping the last bit of strength that had kept her conscious.

She felt sleep roll over her like a dark, warm blanket sheltered against Clint's chest, assured of his safety, of his passion, she gave up the fight and let it have her. Sated Warm. In Clint's arms, she found the rest she needed.

HE WAS GOING TO HAVE to get out of the damned water Clint breathed out raggedly as he shifted Morganna in his arms, holding her against his chest as he pulled himself to his feet, water sloshing around his calves as he stepped from the tub and jerked one of the large towels from the low shelf by the tub.

He wrapped it around Morganna, drying her quickly.

A grin quirked his lips as she muttered drowsily at being disturbed She was sleeping in his arms, despite the awkward hold he had on her, relaxed and pliant as he clumsily dried the water from both of them, Shaking his head at her, he padded into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed, pulling the blankets over her be-fore heading back to the bathroom to clean up the damp mess they had left there.

The woman was killing him. He couldn't keep himself from touching her, from taking her every chance he had, filling her with his release. Feeling each hard spurt of his semen inside her did something to him that he couldn't explain. The feeling of ownership, of possessiveness, that locked around his soul each time he marked her in such a way was starting to worry him.

It couldn't continue forever, this blinding hunger. He couldn't allow it to. When the danger was over, when she -was finally safe, he would have to leave again. He had no intentions of tying her to him, of creating a bond that would tempt the violence that was so much a part of him. Tossing the damp towels into the hamper after he cleaned up the mess, he moved back to the bedroom, sliding into the bed beside Morganna, trying to ignore how natural it felt. How right. She curled into his arms, a warm weight that his arms seemed to relish, that tightened his chest with pleasure. Had it been sexual pleasure alone, it wouldn't have worried him. But it wasn't. It was a pleasure that pierced his soul and reminded him once again of the heartache that awaited him. because he couldn't keep her. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he needed to. One day soon, he would have to let her go.

TRINA BLAKE MOVED WEARILY INTO her bedroom, ignoring the expensive furnishings, the large, empty bed. As empty as the house she had bought. As empty as her life. Walking toward the antique vanity table on the other side of the room, she pulled off the heavy silver earrings she wore, dropping them to the cherrywood vanity before sitting down on the upholstered stool and unzipping her high boots.

Her feet ached. They never ached. She had been wearing the impossibly high heels for years, moving comfortably u them, enjoying the additional stature they gave to her. The impression of height and inner strength. But lately..... She massaged her arches, frowning at the stiffness there. Lately they had begun hurting.

She turned to the mirror, automatically uncapping t cleansing cream and spreading it over her face before cleansing the makeup off with the tissues sitting ready by her elbow. It was automatic, her nightly ritual. Cleaning off the layers of the mask she faced the world with and for a few hours, just a few hours, allowing the sensitive skin of hen face to rest.

She stared into the mirror, seeing more than just the residue of the cream and makeup lifting free of her skin. There were a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Her skin wasn't as her blemished as it had been or as dewy as when she was in her twenties.

She was getting old. And lately, she was beginning to feel it. She was thirty-two years old, and her home, like her soul echoed with exactly how empty her life truly was. She was a puppet, a pawn to the lifestyle and the power she had believed she coveted at one time.

Slowly she had begun distancing herself from the criminal elements she had been involved with throughout her life With Carmelita's death, that had come much easier. The bitch from hell had been sent back to her fiery realm, leaving Trina in peace for a change. No more late-night phone calls, no more demands from the black-hearted bitch.

Until Diego had shown up. God, how she hated him. wished with every fiber of her being that he had been consumed in the same fiery battle that had taken Carmelita's life. How much easier Trina's life would have been then.

How much easier it would have been if she had never been entered into the insanity of Carmelita's life. Maybe Trina could have had a measure of peace to go with the wealth she had amassed.

A husband perhaps. Maybe a child. A bitter smile crossed her lips at the thought of either. Such pleasures would be quickly used against her if she even considered such things. Especially now. With Carmelita's death, Diego's paranoia and psychotic tendencies were no longer contained.

As Trina wiped the last of the cleansing cream from her face and stared back at her own expression, she wondered when it had become so hard to look into her own eyes. Had it only just begun, or had it only grown over the years?

Shaking her head, she had picked up her silver-backed brush and lifted it to brush out the long mass of black hair

when a shadow reflected in the mirror, moving toward the bedroom doorway.

A hard, dread-filled surge of blood rocketed through her veins. She had been expecting it. Had actually thought he would come sooner than midmorning. She should have known he would know exactly when to strike.

Laying the brush down, she turned on the stool and waited.

---