The resentment, anger and confusion were swept away by the incredible pleasure and need.
She cried out, her lips parted, her tongue meeting his, arms gripping his shoulders as she held tight to him.
Cullen was ravenous, his need for her as desperate as hers for him.
His head tilted, his lips slanting over hers as he consumed her kiss. Lips and tongues met, melded, and control became a thing of the past.
Chelsea didn’t want control, she didn’t want to be logical or realistic. In this moment she just wanted to be Cullen’s.
“That’s it,” he groaned before nipping at her lips. “Burn for me.”
Burn for him? She was already burning past reason.
Reaching up, she buried her fingers in his hair, nipped his lips as he tried to pull back again before licking her tongue over them.
His mouth slammed down on hers, a groan rumbling in his chest as her lips closed on his tongue, drawing the addictive, heated taste free. An overwhelming rush of sensation and fiery need tore through her senses, clenching the inner flesh of her sex and spasming through her womb.
She didn’t have to think; all she had to do was give herself to the need storming through her now. And after his kiss was the need to feel his flesh against hers, skin to skin. She was desperate for it, needing it with the same out-of-control hunger that demanded his kiss.
Chelsea tore at his shirt, needing it off him now. She might have felt a few buttons pop too before he was jerking the material free of his body.
Her blouse was next, buttons tearing free before Cullen managed to release them all. She thought she might have heard material rip.
It took precious moments to shed boots, shoes and clothes, to get to bare skin and the incredible pleasure to be found in the contact.
Chelsea’s breath caught as he lifted her in his arms, her nipples raking over his chest, the caress exciting and heating the sensitive peaks. As she lifted her knees to his hips, the feel of the engorged crest of his cock against her lower stomach drew a desperate cry from her.
Her juices wept from her vagina, the inner tissue clenching and rippling with the need for him inside her.
She needed him now. She didn’t want to wait, didn’t need foreplay. She needed him inside her.
“Now, Cullen,” she whispered, gripping his hips with her knees and lifting against him to get the broad crest to the entrance of her sex. “Please. Now.”
She was dying for him, her breathing harsh and ragged, nails biting into his shoulders.
Suddenly, her back met the wall. Gripping her thighs, Cullen lifted her, holding her in place as his cock began pressing against the narrow entrance.
“Look at me,” he snarled.
Heated pressure flared in her pussy as Chelsea forced her eyes open, staring up at him, dazed pleasure drugging her senses now.
“I need you,” she whispered. “Please. Now.”
“You were fucking eighteen.” His breathing hard, ragged. “A weapon strapped to your thigh and all I could think about was this.”
The pressure increased, the stretching, heated sensations as he began pushing inside her pulling a cry from her lips.
Slowly, by increments, his gaze holding hers despite the need to close them, his hips rocked against her, working the hard crest inside the hungry depths of her sex.
“You’re mine,” he gritted out, his thighs bunching between hers, his eyes flaring with wild lust as she felt that overwhelming, desperate need rushing through her.
A second later, blinding, incredible pleasure tore through her senses. She cried out his name, losing her breath as sensation blazed through her.
Steady, hard thrusts impaled her, driving his cock deeper with each stroke. Pleasure-pain streaked through her senses even as her body demanded more.
She needed more of him. She needed all of him.
Moving against him as he thrust inside her, whimpering cries falling from her, Chelsea felt the rising pleasure beginning to burn through her determination to hold a part of herself back. To keep from becoming lost in the whipping emotions she felt rising in the storm tearing through her.