His right hand held her at her waist, pulling her back to him. His free hand gripped her ass, stroking it with his palm smoothly, running his fingers up her spine until he reached her neck. Gunner pushed her down with one hand, while the other, which held her at her waist, traveled below her navel down to her entrance, fingertips stroking her wet folds.
Instinctually, Cate arched her back, pushing back against him.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, and she held her breath, knowing what was coming. She nodded in compliance.
He removed his hand from her neck and lined himself up.
The moment of waiting lasted an eternity. But when Gunner pushed himself inside her, Cate felt as if eternity would never be long enough.
His thrusts were hard and fast, and they stirred something primal within her, called to her magic like a reckoning.
Gunner’s hand found her hair once more, fingers twisting in her silken locks.
The scent of sacred oils, of sweat, and arousal perfumed the air, clouding her airways.
The rhythmic drag and force flamed the building inferno within Cate, until she could not hold back her own desires anymore.
When Gunner slid out of her, she scrambled to her feet and turned around, shoving him into the dirt, her hand on his chest, magic erupting from her fingertips.
Gunner growled darkly in response, and moved to stand, but he was not successful.
Cate did not give him the chance as she straddled him once more, sliding on to him, thighs trapping him beneath her. She braced her hands against his wrists, and a growl escaped her throat as, fangs of her own pushing through.
Gunner’s eyes widened in surprise, but the name on his tongue drove her over the edge.
“Hecate,” he whispered in awe.