Maya Banks - Sweet Possession

He chased one orgasm from her and went after another. Relentless. Wanting her to know who she belonged to. Who commanded her body and her pleasure.

She begged and pleaded. More. Stop. Don’t stop. Oh God. Again.

“Connor!”

Her fingers curled into fists above her, and she raised her head and pushed back against him as another orgasm raced through her body, igniting fire within him.

“Oh God, I’m coming. Baby. You feel so good. Come with me, Lyric.”

He swelled within her, so tight he could barely move even after she’d come twice and her moisture bathed him. He withdrew and rolled her over roughly, spreading her legs and mounting her again, this time face-to-face. He wanted to see her. He wanted to drown in her eyes while he finally came.

He plunged deep. Withdrew and then plunged one last time. She wrapped herself around him. Arms, legs. She raised her head and buried it in his neck.

He came apart. It was the most gut-wrenching orgasm of his life. He couldn’t be still. He kept thrusting and thrusting, like he was about to come out of his skin. He came and came, and he worried about the condom but he couldn’t stop.

She held him, stroking her hands over his back, clutching at him with her legs, pulling him deeper until there was no separation between them.

He slumped down over her, embedded deeply in her pussy as the last of his release tore from his body. He sucked in deep breaths. His entire body shook. He couldn’t catch up. Couldn’t process the magnitude of what he’d just felt. It was earth-shattering. Weren’t women supposed to be the ones who came undone during sex? He’d never felt so damn vulnerable in his life.

Knowing he couldn’t stay inside her after coming so violently, he groaned and rolled to the side, still holding her tightly against him.

He eased out of her, hoping like hell the condom wasn’t already leaking. Then he reached down and pulled it off. He leaned back and aimed for the garbage can but he didn’t give a shit if it made it or not. He’d clean it up later. Right now he didn’t want to separate himself from Lyric even for the two seconds it would take to dispose of the rubber.

She trembled against him and was so quiet, it worried him. What was he supposed to say after something like this? What was there to say?

He’d scare the shit out of her if he spouted what he was thinking or feeling. Hell, any woman would waste no time getting the hell away if he told her that he wanted to tie her to him for the next year and never let her out of bed.

Sex made a man crazy. There was no other explanation for it.

No, it wasn’t sex. And maybe that was the problem. He knew it went far deeper than that. It hadn’t been sex even that first time. He knew it. He accepted it. He just didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do about it.

Worse, he had no idea how to handle Lyric. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. One wrong word and the walls would go up and he’d be frozen out.

How the hell was a man ever supposed to know the right thing to say or do at precisely the right time? It was a wonder relationships ever worked.

Relationship. Hell. He was getting way too far ahead of himself. He was thinking too much. You weren’t supposed to think after mind-blowing sex. That was his problem. He was getting all analytical—and, God help him, all touchy-feely—when he needed to just enjoy the moment and take things as they came.

Weren’t women supposed to be the emotional creatures who couldn’t separate sex from love?

He was fucked. So fucked.

He glanced down to see her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling as she cuddled against him. With a resigned sigh, he made the mental effort to shut his brain off. One should never make life-altering decisions when holding a naked woman in his arms.

For a long moment they lay there, silent and unmoving. He was about to drift into sleep himself, content that she hadn’t hauled ass, when she stirred against him and started to push away.

The alarm went off in his brain as she started to roll. He reached for her but she slipped from his grasp.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she whispered, just as she’d done the first night they’d made love.

And he knew, just as he’d known then, that she wouldn’t be back.

It was somehow fitting that during the night a cold front moved through and brought with it raw, rainy temperatures. In a lot of ways, it suited Lyric’s mood.

Fear was cold. Fear had icy fingers that gripped your heart and spread its chill through your soul.

Connor scared her. Not him, but what he represented. No matter what she did, she couldn’t rid herself of the panicky, tight feeling in her chest.

How could she face him after what she’d done? He’d been . . . perfect. Just perfect. More than perfect. She didn’t even have words to describe it simply because she’d never had a man look at her, touch her . . . love her as Connor had done.

And her response? Run like hell.

She rubbed tiredly at her forehead as she stood shivering in the rain. She hadn’t slept. She’d spent the entire night secluded in the small library off the living room. Now she stood staring over the front lawn, taking in nothing and everything all at once as the rain fell softly around her.

A warm hand slid over her bare shoulder and squeezed. She knew instantly it was Connor, and she went still, dreading what he’d say or do. He surprised her.

“Come inside, Lyric,” he said gently. “It’s cold and you have a performance tonight. Have you slept at all?”

She shook her head mutely as he pulled her into his side and shielded her from the rain with his big body.

She wanted to say she was sorry but the words hung painfully in her throat. She wanted to tell him that she’d never felt this way about another man and that she was scared shitless. She wanted to turn into him and hold on for dear life. Take what he offered and never let go.

But the fear wouldn’t thaw. She was cold and frozen. Unable to move. Unable to reach out. And so she went quietly back inside and stood in front of the fireplace while he rubbed a towel through her hair.

Would he say something now? Would he ask her for explanations she couldn’t provide? Ask her to reveal things long hidden?

But all he did was wrap a robe around her and pull the ends snug so she’d be warm. He rubbed his hands up and down her shoulders several times and then said, “You have a few hours yet. You should try to sleep. I’ll wake you in time to get to the arena.”

She nodded and stood there a moment longer. She couldn’t meet his gaze because she knew he’d see too much. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes and tilted into his embrace, but he didn’t touch her. Didn’t hold her. Just one simple kiss and then he was gone.

She didn’t want to go back up to her bedroom. The fire crackled and sparked behind her and she turned to warm her hands. Warmth seeped into her bones and made her heavy with lethargy. She glanced over her shoulder to the couch. It was as good a place as any and she knew the security guys would be in and out, as would Connor and Kane, so she wouldn’t be alone.

With a sigh she stepped over and then crawled onto the couch. She turned to face the back and pulled her knees to her chest until she felt safe, warm and secure.

On the ride to Reliant Stadium, Lyric was tense and jittery. Connor rode in the back of the car while Kane remained up front. A car carrying the rest of her detail followed and another team had already gone ahead to set up for the show.

“Can you make sure that the girls got the tickets I arranged for them?” she asked anxiously.

Connor slid a hand over hers. “They got them. Don’t worry. They’re going to have a blast.”

She fell silent again and watched out the window as they approached the stadium. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. It was like any other show. She’d done it a million times. She wasn’t the type to suffer stage fright. Singing was what she loved. It brought her peace. It was the one thing she did for herself. That others liked it and paid for the privilege of hearing it was just added bonus.

The car rolled to a stop outside the entrance to the myriad of rooms on the lower level of the stadium. The area was roped off and security was heavy, but there was still a crowd of fans who screamed the moment Lyric stepped from the vehicle.

Despite Connor urging her forward, she paused and turned to wave. She smiled broadly, blew kisses and then allowed Connor to pull her inside the building.

Almost immediately her shoulders relaxed as she stepped back into her world. The hustle and bustle backstage was something she was familiar with and embraced. She was back in her element.

Connor stopped at her dressing room. Kane and four of his men stood to the side. She started to open her door but Connor put his hand on her wrist.

“Stay here while I check it out.”

She stepped back and Connor opened the door. To her surprise, R.J. and Trent were both sprawled on couches in the room. They both bolted up when Connor stepped into the room, but when she tried to follow, Kane stepped in front of her and blocked her entrance.

“You asked him for help,” Kane said in a low voice. “He’ll handle it.”

The sounds of R.J. and Trent arguing had her taking a step back. Kane moved with her, shielding her, careful to keep his body between her and the men at all times. Two of his men flanked her. One of them pulled out a handgun and stood alert while two others went into the room to give Connor help.