Obsidian Flame by Caris Roane Page A

image that hit her brought pleasure streaking through her, bringing her close. She could see Thorne over her, making love to her, but he wasn’t himself, he was José, or in José’s mind, or something.
    Maybe she should have been mad. Instead, she gave a cry because it was hot as hell and Thorne began to pound into her, the sound of his flesh against hers a loud slap even with the water still hitting his back.
    The orgasm crashed down on her almost as hard as the recent vision so that she was suddenly clinging to him and experiencing pleasure like she had never known before. Being in his mind was a ride or maybe the ride, the part of the experience she’d needed all this time, all these decades to really go through the roof.
    And it just kept rolling, over and over, sharpening along her bare clit, streaking up the inside of her until she was pulling hard on Thorne’s cock, begging him to give her what she wanted.
    Give it to me, she practically shouted within his mind.
    Fuck, came back to her.
    He shoved into her hard, released her neck, and shouted at the ceiling.
    She could feel his release and because she was in his mind, she could even experience his pleasure, which triggered hers all over again, so that as he thrust hard, she came and came and came, crying out and pressing her mound against him.
    It’s never been like this.
    “No, it hasn’t.” His movements slowed, but his breathing was a harsh rasp in the shower.
    “I’m shutting the water off,” he said. “Damn, that got cold.” He must have used his mind because he didn’t let go of her and suddenly the water stopped spraying. “I don’t want to let go of you yet.”
    “You’d better not,” she said. She slid her arms up around his neck then kissed him. “I like being inside your head. That was the best we’ve ever done together.”
    He nodded and chuckled. “You’re a pain in the ass, Marguerite, but I love the way you talk to me.”
    “I’m gonna leave your head now,” she said.
    Again, he nodded. His lips were parted as he sucked in air.
    She pulled out of his mind and it was the strangest rubbery sensation, like pulling taffy or something, until at last she left him. Still, he remained in the shower, holding her ass firmly in both hands and keeping them joined.
    She wiggled her hips so that she could feel him deep inside. “This feels good,” she said. She looked into his eyes, gorgeous hazel eyes. Usually they were bloodshot, but not now. Of course, he’d been off duty for three weeks chasing her across the country and back, which meant he’d been off the Ketel One.
    Now here they were, joined like two people would be joined who’d been making love for a century. Only this had been better. Of course, they’d only had sex while she’d been held captive and he’d been worked to death as a warrior.
    There was, however, one issue she needed clearing up.
    “So what the hell was that with José?”
    “Oh, was that his name?”
    “You know damn well that’s his name. You were in his head, weren’t you? And when you’d had sex, you didn’t mean with another woman, did you? What was this, like some kind of ménage à trois?”
    “I guess,” he said, with a slight shrug. “Worked for me. And it kept me from killing him.”
    Her shoulders dropped, and she leaned her head against his neck and sighed. “I’m glad. I couldn’t stand the thought of you with another woman. I know that makes me the worst kind of hypocrite when I shagged José, but I think I’d kill her. I’m beginning to understand why that woman with the long dark hair was so upset with me. What was her name? The one bonded to that tall gorgeous Italian?”
    “Parisa.”
    “Yeah, she about ripped my face off when I flirted with her man.”
    “I remember.” His arms tightened around her.
    “I’d be like that if we took this much farther. I’d want to kill any woman who looked at you.”
    “Then tell me you understand my dilemma a little.”
    She lifted up,