“Yes … oh, yes…” She gasped. “More.”
He gave it, a frantic, animalistic fuck, filling her pussy and riding over her clit. He was on top of her, his chest against hers, his weight reminding her of his power.
All she could do was lie there and take it, take him, but that suited her just fine. It was what she wanted. Oh, and the pressure was building, he was getting it so right.
“Woman,” he said, against her ear. “You’re gonna come so hard.”
“I know … oh, it’s…” The way he was working her clit was nothing short of magic. Each grind over it had the pleasure blooming. “I’m…”
“Come,” he instructed harshly against her ear, his breath red-hot. “Fucking come.”
She did, spiraling into ecstasy with him in total control of every beat on her clit, every spasm in her pussy.
His body tensed, but he didn’t slow. Then he, too, found his climax. The groan that vibrated from his chest, his throat, and into her ear was primitive, pure and unabashed ecstasy.
The sound and feel of him releasing sent another white-hot rush of bliss through her pelvis. She cried out, arching and writhing, taking it all.
“That’s it,” he said, nipping her earlobe between his teeth. “Keep coming for me.”
He didn’t let up on her clit, and wave after wave of heavenly relief burst from her. This time, she didn’t cry out. She was in another dimension. Only extreme sensations existed.
Finally, he slowed, which was just as well because her breaths were hard to catch and her heart thumped so wildly she feared for its survival.
“Ah yeah,” he said, hovering his face over hers and smoothing her hair back from her hot cheeks and brow. “I gave my naughty maid a good servicing, didn’t I?”
It wasn’t what she’d been expecting him to say, and she burst out laughing. “Servicing?”
He chuckled and kissed her, a full-body tremble going through him and sending her into a final quiver of pleasure.
When Rigor had planned their visit to the California chapter, she’d been reluctant. Now, she was damn glad she’d come along.
Chapter Eight
Wyatt rolled off the sweet, soft woman whose skin was laced with sexy perspiration and reached for his pack of smokes.
“Excuse me,” she said in a haughty tone.
“What?” He popped a cigarette between his lips. A post-coital smoke was one of his great pleasures.
“Can you undo me.” It hadn’t been a question.
“Oh yeah, sorry.” He chuckled, reached for the belt, and quickly undid it. “Shit.”
“What?” She lowered her arms.
He tossed the belt to one side and curled his hands around her red wrists. “I hurt you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He frowned and studied the indents on her flesh and the rouged flush of her skin. “Damn it.”
“Hey, it doesn’t matter. I had fun.”
He smoothed his thumb over the delicate inside of her wrists, over the faint veins he could just make out beneath the surface of her skin. Had he forgotten that she was fragile in the heat of the moment? When his passion and his need to hear her orgasming had been all-consuming had he stopped considering her wellbeing? He hoped to hell not. He didn’t want to lose that much control, but in the name of the God above, she drove him crazy with lust. From the moment he’d seen her, he’d been obsessed, and he had to admit that to himself—the sooner he did, the sooner he could work with it and not fight it. And right now, she looked like she’d been to battle.
“Wyatt?”
“Just don’t…” He tutted and shook his head.