his cock with his hand to her slit. He instinctively felt the ideal give in her flesh when she took the position and thrust. She gave a little yelp, and he tried to soothe her with his touch. He couldn’t stop, though. He thought he might be grinding a layer of enamel off his teeth as she enclosed him, squeezed him like an exquisitely tight, soft suck. Gripping her ass, he watched himself sink into paradise.
She was just a woman, like so many before. He knew this.
So why did it all feel so different?
His shaved balls bumped against her damp outer sex, and the frothing boil of lust overtook his brain. He lost all ability to think. Instinct took over. He firmed his hold on her and began rocking her ass back and forth, driving his hips in a counterrhythm. Her soft moans and surprised little gasps and whimpers when he thrust with more force intoxicated him. He’d like to fuck her forever.
He needn’t have controlled her hip movements so greatly, because he could feel her moving against him with a strength and mounting excitement. Even so, his arm muscles tightened as he crashed into her. Crashed her into him. He didn’t know which. His pelvis was smacking against her ass faster and faster, a little cry erupting out of her throat when he popped against her outer sex and drove deep.
“You feel so fucking good,” he ground out, sounding crazed to his own ears. She was driving him over the edge. He couldn’t get enough. He lifted her hips, holding her against him, taking her lower body weight. Her knees slipped off the edge of the bed. His arms flexed hard, serving her pussy to his cock, pounding into her high and hard. Her cries rained down on him, whetting his appetite even more. He was feasting, gorging himself . . . but he wanted more.
“Scream for me, Emma,” he grated out. He drove into her, a raging male animal intent on one thing. “
Scream
.”
He kept fucking her, hanging by a thread. Then it came, a high keen that grew louder like an oncoming train the more he pounded into her clasping body. He felt her muscular walls convulse around him. He let the savage loose. Placing her knees back on the bed, he fell down over her, bracing himself with his arms. He drove straight and hard into the hot, molten core of her, grunting. He lit up like a roman candle, popping and firing at first, aching and straining for full detonation. He heard Emma scream louder, her channel gripping him, and it happened.
He exploded into a million pieces.
* * *
She came back to herself, knowing she was still the practical, dependable Emma Shore she’d always been, and yet somehow knowing at the same time that she’d never be that girl again.
She absorbed the sound of their twining, panting breaths. It was a nice sensation. It lulled her. His weight was partially on her, pressing her down into the mattress, and it too was delicious: a heavy, solid comfort. She wished he’d press her down even more firmly. The idea of fusing with Vanni Montand even more securely and deeply created a sweet, swelling sensation of longing in her breast.
The feeling of him sliding out of her tender body was jarring and highly unwelcome. She must have made a sound of protest, because he kissed her ear and spoke in a sex-roughened, low tone that raised goose bumps along her damp nape.
“Here. Get under the covers. I’ll come and join you in a minute.”
She felt the edge of the sheet and duvet brushed against her naked hip and realized he’d pulled back the bedding. At the urging of his hands on her waist, she rolled over and swung her body so that her head sunk against a decadence of pillows and her feet slid between cool, exquisitely soft sheets. She blinked woozily, staring up at the striking image of him as he stood next to the bed and pulled the sheet and fluffy comforter over her. She curled onto her side, her cheek pressing against the silk of the pillow sham. Her gaze dropped over him and she swallowed thickly. He was still dressed in his
She was just a woman, like so many before. He knew this.
So why did it all feel so different?
His shaved balls bumped against her damp outer sex, and the frothing boil of lust overtook his brain. He lost all ability to think. Instinct took over. He firmed his hold on her and began rocking her ass back and forth, driving his hips in a counterrhythm. Her soft moans and surprised little gasps and whimpers when he thrust with more force intoxicated him. He’d like to fuck her forever.
He needn’t have controlled her hip movements so greatly, because he could feel her moving against him with a strength and mounting excitement. Even so, his arm muscles tightened as he crashed into her. Crashed her into him. He didn’t know which. His pelvis was smacking against her ass faster and faster, a little cry erupting out of her throat when he popped against her outer sex and drove deep.
“You feel so fucking good,” he ground out, sounding crazed to his own ears. She was driving him over the edge. He couldn’t get enough. He lifted her hips, holding her against him, taking her lower body weight. Her knees slipped off the edge of the bed. His arms flexed hard, serving her pussy to his cock, pounding into her high and hard. Her cries rained down on him, whetting his appetite even more. He was feasting, gorging himself . . . but he wanted more.
“Scream for me, Emma,” he grated out. He drove into her, a raging male animal intent on one thing. “
Scream
.”
He kept fucking her, hanging by a thread. Then it came, a high keen that grew louder like an oncoming train the more he pounded into her clasping body. He felt her muscular walls convulse around him. He let the savage loose. Placing her knees back on the bed, he fell down over her, bracing himself with his arms. He drove straight and hard into the hot, molten core of her, grunting. He lit up like a roman candle, popping and firing at first, aching and straining for full detonation. He heard Emma scream louder, her channel gripping him, and it happened.
He exploded into a million pieces.
* * *
She came back to herself, knowing she was still the practical, dependable Emma Shore she’d always been, and yet somehow knowing at the same time that she’d never be that girl again.
She absorbed the sound of their twining, panting breaths. It was a nice sensation. It lulled her. His weight was partially on her, pressing her down into the mattress, and it too was delicious: a heavy, solid comfort. She wished he’d press her down even more firmly. The idea of fusing with Vanni Montand even more securely and deeply created a sweet, swelling sensation of longing in her breast.
The feeling of him sliding out of her tender body was jarring and highly unwelcome. She must have made a sound of protest, because he kissed her ear and spoke in a sex-roughened, low tone that raised goose bumps along her damp nape.
“Here. Get under the covers. I’ll come and join you in a minute.”
She felt the edge of the sheet and duvet brushed against her naked hip and realized he’d pulled back the bedding. At the urging of his hands on her waist, she rolled over and swung her body so that her head sunk against a decadence of pillows and her feet slid between cool, exquisitely soft sheets. She blinked woozily, staring up at the striking image of him as he stood next to the bed and pulled the sheet and fluffy comforter over her. She curled onto her side, her cheek pressing against the silk of the pillow sham. Her gaze dropped over him and she swallowed thickly. He was still dressed in his
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