“Please. Tanner, please…” She was shaking apart, shuddering so hard from the pleasure that she didn’t know if she would survive.
“That’s okay, baby,” he panted behind her, moving, drawing back, surging in return.
Her eyes closed against the sweat dripping down her face, the burning in her body.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “Remember? I took notes. I know what you need. ”
Be prepared. The Breed motto, she thought irrationally as he began to move inside her. Long, hard thrusts. Each stroke sending biting impulses of sensation through her, working through her vagina, her womb, her muscles tightening, preparing.
“Not yet. ”
She screamed, her voice so hoarse now that the sound barely registered as the strokes inside her lessened, built, lessened again.
This wasn’t teasing. This was torture. This was a pleasure so destructive it stole her breath.
“Please…,” she begged. “Don’t do this. Please don’t tease me. ”
“Tease you, baby?” His hand smoothed over a buttock. “I wouldn’t tease you, darlin’. Only please you. Please you so much. ”
He drove in hard and deep, pulled back slowly, then thrust in with a striking surge of pleasure so hard, so swift she nearly blacked out.
“Harder again,” she gasped. “Please. Please, harder again. ”
Hard. An impalement that had her reaching back for him, her fingers gripping his thigh, her nails digging into his flesh at the same instant that his hand landed on her rear in an erotic little slap that threw her higher.
Stars danced in front of her closed eyes; her muscles were so tight she wondered if she would ever relax again. She just needed a little, just a few hard thrusts, that was all. Just a few.
“So sweet and hot,” he panted over her, coming fully over her as his legs spread her thighs further and his thrusts continued to power inside her. “Keep tightening on me like that, pretty girl. Milk me with that sweet pussy. Give to me. Give me everything you’ve never given before. ”
Was there anything left to give?
As his thrusts increased, became rhythmic, hard and driving, she found there was more to give.
Her orgasm caught her by surprise again, exploding, detonating and washing her body with such pleasure she could only shudder beneath him and take what he had to give.
And he had a lot to give. Harder. Deeper. Faster.
Until she felt everything inside her unraveling, tearing apart and reaching for him as his roar echoed around her again and sent her flying.
She felt him drive deep one last time, then the hard explosion of his heated release, the hard, pulsing dampness filling her, soaking into muscles clenched around his cock, spasming with a shuddering force she couldn’t even breathe through.
She collapsed fully beneath him, drained, exhausted, aftershocks of pleasure rippling through her vagina and causing her to gasp with halting little cries she could barely believe she was making.
She couldn’t move. She was lost, drifting. So drugged on the pleasure she had endured that she could only whimper as she felt him pull slowly from her and come down on the bed beside her.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispered at her ear then. “I’ll keep the lights on. Just sleep. ”
Her eyes fluttered closed, her last thought following her into sleep: Tanner Reynolds would be the death of her.
CHAPTER 12
Sometimes, a man had to admit when he’d been a fool. He had to look inside and realize that he had let his hatred, his suspicions, rule his logic rather than letting his logic rule his emotions. He had to look beyond the surface, and dig past the emotions for or against the situation, and feel for the truth.
His gut had told something wasn’t right with Scheme Tallant all along. Nearly ten years he had been watching her, and he had known something was off. Something was wrong. But hatred and suspicion had clouded logic; the need to hate had clouded reason.
The proof the Breeds had gathered on her over the past ten years showed a spoiled general’s daughter as merciless and bloodthirsty as the monster who had sired her. Proof such as orders carrying her signature to execute Breeds still beneath her father’s command, for no other reason than whatever perceived weakness they possessed. Proof such as the surveillance videos the Breeds had managed to acquire of meetings between Scheme, her father and high-ranking soldiers within her father’s organization. Her cold, deliberate plans to strike against Sanctuary.
But the gut had warned him, even during the investigation, that something was off. That something wasn’t right with the evidence they had against her. As though he were seeing only part of the picture, and the rest was in shadow. He should have paid attention to his gut.