He clamped his lips onto hers and thrust his tongue into her mouth. He wasn’t in the mood to be gentle. He took from her, the ache between his legs unbearable in its heat. It overrode the pain in his thigh, the rational part of his brain. At this moment, his body wanted her body, and nothing else mattered.
He pushed her into the rough wood of the barn wall. She sagged against him, sinking into his body, fitting him in all the right places. When she wrapped her arms around him, her fingers tunneling in his hair, stroking his face, he knew she had surrendered. He broke his mouth away and trailed feathery kisses across her cheek, to her ear.
“Tell me you don’t want me, darlin’. Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
She panted against him. Her pulse hammered against his lips, racing in synchrony with his.
“Tell me, Dusty. Say you don’t want this. You don’t want me.”
“I—I—” Her voice cracked, her body shuddered.
“You have to say it.”
“I… I can’t.”
She grabbed his face in her hands and pulled him to her mouth again. The kisses were pressing, demanding, a tangle of teeth and tongues. He reached for her braid, pulled the band out, and fingered her hair into those luscious waves he loved.
He tore his mouth from hers. “Don’t braid your hair anymore,” he said roughly. “I like it down.”
She nodded, and he heard her gulp for air before she slammed her lips against his again. He fumbled with her shirt as they kissed, finally swearing under his breath as he ripped it apart and sent buttons scattering. Sweet God, her bra had a front clasp. The first one she had worn like that. He snapped it open, released her delectable breasts, bent his head, and sucked a cherry nipple into his mouth. She clamped her hands around his head, holding him to her as he suckled. Her breathy, sexy noises increased the pressure inside him until he was so hard he thought he would burst.
He pulled his lips from her nipple and cupped her cheeks, staring into her big brown eyes alight with fire.
“What do you want, Dusty?” he rasped. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. Now.” Her nimble fingers made short work of his belt buckle and yanked his zipper down. He hissed as his arousal escaped through the opening in his boxers.
“Take off your pants,” he ordered.
Her arms and hands shook visibly as she removed her boots, unbuckled her belt, and unzipped her jeans. She jerked them and her underwear down her legs in one swoop. As she stepped out of them, he thrust his hand between her legs. Oh yeah, she was ready.
He tore off his boxers and lifted her, immune to the pain in his thigh as her legs wrapped around him. He backed up and the splintery wood scratched his back as he used the wall for support to hold his weight and Dusty’s on his right leg. She reached down for his cock, but he shoved her hand aside and plunged himself into her.
“Zach!” she cried out, wrapping her hands around him, grabbing his bare ass, trying to pull him closer to her. Her gorgeous breasts pushed into his chest as he pumped into her. Her breath came in hoarse sobs as she buried her face in his shoulder.
His heart thumped unsteadily in his chest. He was close, so close, but damn it, he wanted his woman to come.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded.
She made a breathy sound. “What?”
“I want you to come. I can’t do it for you. All my weight’s on one leg and it won’t hold me if I move my arms. Touch yourself.”
Do it fast. She was so tight and she hugged him so completely, so thoroughly, he knew he’d blow in a matter of seconds.
As soon as she pressed on her swollen nub, her spasms hugged him. He thrust so far inside her he nudged the edge of her womb, and he came with a savage intensity he had never known.
“Mine,” he said, his voice husky w
ith smoke, his cock still throbbing. “You’re mine.” He rested his cheek on the top of her head, the soft red-gold tresses like a satin pillow. “You’re coming home with me.”
She panted against his shoulder.
“I need to put you down, darlin’. My leg…”
She jerked away from him. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“Why? I’m not.”