Overkill(104)

And then his mouth was on her, sipping at her, seeking with his tongue that pleasure point that soon had her clutching at his hair and repeating his name in gasps and groans. He continued to press and stroke until her climax subsided and she wilted over him.

He stood, bringing her limp form with him, and carried her to the bed, where he laid her down. She watched with drowsy but lustful eyes as he hurriedly undressed. “You’re gorgeous, and I love you.” She reached for him. “Come here.”

He stretched out over her and, in a fever to possess her, penetrated the soft, giving femininity with a primal mating urge that stole their breath.

Number twelve, who had saved hard-fought, bone-breaking, bloodletting championship games with a final-second touchdown pass, had been saved from himself by this beautiful, dainty creature with hair the color of a rising full moon and eyes like blue topaz.

With every thrust, he spoke her name in a whisper of fervent thankfulness for the day she’d trespassed onto his property and into his heart.

When he came deep inside her, his soul didn’t shatter.

It broke free.