That oh-so-familiar aphrodisiac scent laced the air, turning it thick and sultry. She dug her fingertips into his upper arms, holding on for dear life as heat swept through her like a tidal wave—making her hard nipples throb, her aching breasts swell, and her pulsing clit scream to be touched.
He splayed his hand over her throat, and his dark energy flooded her in an instant. He kept his mouth flush to hers, drawing every breath she released into his lungs, feeding on her own sexual energy.
Meanwhile, his damn pheromones played havoc with her mind and body. Her composure flitted away, along with every sane thought in her brain. Right then, there was no thinking, only feeling.
“I want you to ride me right here.” He lowered her, lining the head of his dick to the entrance of her pussy.
Close to trembling with the electric anticipation that taunted her body, she reminded him, “Condom.”
“Want to come inside you, baby. You on the pill?”
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
“Never went ungloved before. I always wore a condom.”
“So why switch it up now?”
“The others weren’t mine. You are.” He draped his arms over the back of the sofa. “Lower yourself on my cock. Slowly.”
Khloé almost shivered. The note of pure, masculine demand played across her nerve-endings and made her lower stomach clench. She bore down, gasping as the broad head inched inside her, stretching her until it burned.
“That’s it. Want you to feel every inch of me.”
Every thick, long inch, she thought. Her inner muscles stretched and fluttered, showing a little resistance, but she kept on lowering herself, determined to have him buried deep inside her. The bite of pain and the immense pressure of his size filling her only made it better.
Once she was finally fully impaled on him, she let out a shaky breath. She felt every vein. Every ridge. Every throb. Every fast beat of his heart.
Keeping her pace slow, she impaled herself on him over and over, flooded by feel-good chemicals and a desperate, unrelenting need for more. She tried to move faster, needing—
He gave her ass a sharp slap, and her pussy clamped down on him. “No. Not ready for you to fuck me hard yet.” He lazily slid her up his cock. “Keep it slow. You’ll be rewarded,” he added, his eyes smoldering with such carnal promise, her pussy quaked.
“You’re an asshole,” she croaked.
He draped his arms over the back of the sofa again. “I know.”
Well, then, good. Digging her fingertips into the smooth flesh of his wide shoulders, she went back to impaling herself slowly. He didn’t release her gaze for even a moment, as if he didn’t want to miss even a flicker of emotion that glimmered there.
When she gave him a lazy, spiral, downward thrust, Keenan grunted and fisted his hands. He itched to touch her, palm her gorgeous breasts, tangle his fingers in all that glorious hair. But he kept his hands where they were, not wanting it to end.
The roasting hot clasp of her inner muscles was almost excruciatingly tight. He loved that he was taking her skin to skin, feeling everything. Loved the way she stared right at him, her eyes glazed, her lips parted. The desperation flickering in those smoky eyes twisted his gut and tightened his balls.
Everything about her drove him and his demon wild—they were hooked on her, pure and simple. The entity pushed him to take over; to fuck her with hard, territorial thrusts that would drive home who she belonged to.
Most of all, it wanted Keenan to officially claim her. Keenan wanted it just as much, but he sensed she still wasn’t ready for that yet. He didn’t want to do anything to scare her off or make her retreat.
“You’ve been a very good girl, haven’t you?” Keenan grabbed a fistful of her hair and snatched her head to the side. He put his mouth to her ear. “Ready to fuck me harder now?” He punched his hips upwards, giving her a rough, shallow thrust.
“You know I am.”
“Then do it.”
Thank fucking God. Khloé didn’t hesitate. She rode him hard, feeling close to drunk on the sexual endorphins pumping through her.
So many sensations assailed her as his phantom hands drove her insane—they plumped her breasts, pinched her nipples, squeezed her throat, toyed with her clit.
Shaking with the avalanche of sensation he was subjecting her to, she kept riding him hard. She desperately wanted to come but couldn’t. Not until he let her. It was like having an elastic band wrapped around all the tension inside her, keeping it trapped. She couldn’t take much more.
“Keenan,” she rasped, her mouth dry. “I need—”
“Look at you … eyes all sex-drunk. Lips swollen. Nipples hard. Tits swaying.” He teasingly skimmed his fingers over the swells of her breasts; the calloused pads of his fingers felt like flickers of fire to her super-sensitized nerve-endings. “Don’t know what’s hotter. Watching you ride me, or watching you suck me off.”