Free BorntobeWild by Lynne Connolly Page B

his fierce attack on
her until she caught her breath, the melody halting with a suddenness that left
it echoing around the small room.
    Immediately he halted. “Keep going.”
    She moaned his name, clutched his hair. He knew what he’d
done, stopped as she was about to come but he wanted this and he’d ensure she
did it. “Sing,” he commanded.
    Again the sound rolled over his head, and he went back to
his task. This time she lost the words but kept the tune, the tune sending him
soaring with giddy delight. He pushed two fingers deep inside her pussy and
sucked her clit as she clenched his hair and came and came.
    Never, ever had he felt anything like the joy of that
moment, her voice ringing in his ears, her body subservient to him. Whatever
happened next, he wouldn’t forget this. It would remain with him until the day
he died.
    She was trembling when he disentangled himself and returned
to her. He didn’t care if he orgasmed or not. Could the mind climax? He thought
so.
    The sight of a small package on the little shelf by the bed
took his interest. He grabbed the packet and gazed down at her, loving her
total openness. “I’m yours,” she murmured. “That was amazing.”
    “Spectacular,” he agreed. “Is that enough?”
    She shook her head, her hair clinging to the pillow in
golden threads. “No. Fuck me, Riku.”
    He gave her a gentle kiss and kept his lips nuzzling hers as
he said, “I’ll make love to you if you want.” That was what he felt like. “But
you have to sing.”
    He’d take the possible deafening, because her voice wasn’t a
paltry instrument. He wanted her singing more.
    “Any requests?” She threaded her fingers through his hair,
smiling gently in post-climax euphoria. He shook his head and took his
attention away for the brief moment he needed to sheathe himself.
    “Whatever you feel like.”
    He entered her to the sound of her song. This time he didn’t
know the tune. It had the folk vibe but with something else added, a touch of
classical. It shouldn’t work but it did. The husky edge he’d noticed earlier
returned to frame the sounds. Without it, the song wouldn’t sound right. She
sang about sitting in a window seat with a book, waiting for the person who was
tormenting her thoughts, so much that she couldn’t concentrate on her story.
Bits and pieces interspersed her thoughts.
    He slid deep inside, her body accepting him as always. This
time the music vibrated deep inside her, massaging his cock with little ripples
of sonic sensation.
    After two verses he recognized the chorus and joined in. He
wasn’t the best singer in the world—hell, he wasn’t even the best singer in
Murder City Ravens—but he could hold a tune and did backing vocals
occasionally. He joined in, put in his deeper, masculine tones with hers but
didn’t harmonize or echo. Instead he threaded a different melody in, adding his
own version, dropping them into her lyrics to add a darker, more ambiguous
tone. It wouldn’t work anywhere but here. Nobody else would get it but she did,
smiling at him and then laughing at his increasingly audacious interruptions.
Her song became a careful dichotomy of opinions, bordering on the argumentative
while he fucked her senseless.
    He gave her the force he’d so carefully held back in the
shower, slamming into her, trying to push her voice off-key. He succeeded but
not for long. Like a real professional, she discarded her failures and returned
to the true and when the song ended, she started again.
    He didn’t have to tell her to continue. She’d gotten the
point and the rumbling truth their bodies shared. She came, a small twitch and
then a stronger tightening but she only stopped for a second, carrying on,
racing him to the finish.
    The tune lost most of its artistry as he drove her harder.
Then it lost the words and then the glorious richness as she closed her mouth
and hummed her way through. He didn’t give up, timing his punctuation to his
thrusts so his