Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(62)

And he didn’t stop there. He bent his head, lifting one breast and drawing the nipple deep, sucking and scoring it lightly with his teeth.

Her sex hugged the pulsing length of him, and she moaned at this incredible fullness wedged so tightly inside her that she felt like he was a part of her. As though there was no deciphering where he ended and she began. She arched her throat on a moan.

“Ah, is this what you wanted?” he spoke against the curve of her breast.

She nodded and rolled her head, tangling her hair under her. “Yes.” This was everything she had wanted.

Her ruin and salvation.

“You are milking my cock, sweetheart,” he panted.

She tossed her head in a wild nod and worked her hips under him, willing him to move faster, harder, to give her more. “Yes.”

He watched her darkly as he pinched her nipple between strong fingers, sending an arrow of lancing sensation right to where their bodies joined.

She cried out.

He pulled out and then pushed back inside her. Still controlled. Still steady. He kept it up, creating an even tempo of friction that had her writhing and moaning beneath him.

“What?” His voice grew harder, louder in her ear. “What do you want, Faith?”

“Harder.”

His eyes darkened. It was like he was waiting for her to say that.

His hands seized her hips and his pace increased. He pounded into her, the headboard rattling against the wall with his every thrust.

She shouted his name and clawed his back. His grip on her hips tightened, fingers hard and deep, biting into her flesh.

He lifted her by the hips until her backside was up off the bed, his cock diving deep, hitting that elusive spot until he shattered her. She came, her body jerking violently. He continued to hammer into her, relentless as a machine, crying out loudly. Yes, he was loud. And even in the throes of her passion that startled her. She had never heard him. Never with other women. If he had shouted like this she would have been able to hear it through the walls.

Something swelled in her chest as she took this as proof. She was different than the others for him.

Foolish or not, she believed that. She wanted to believe that . . .

His hands slid from her hips to grip her ass. He massaged the rounded swells like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her. He was still not finished with her. At this particular moment that felt like a blessing and a curse. Her vision glazed as he drove in and out of her and she felt the wave of another orgasm.

“I—I c-can’t,” she choked. “It’s too much.” It wasn’t possible. She never had more than one before. She was lucky to have just the one. This didn’t happen. It was too much . . . the pleasure almost bordering pain.

“Shh, sweetheart.” He bent down and took her mouth in another blistering kiss.

“I can’t . . . I never . . .” Her voice cracked and her fingers dug harder into his arms.

“Yes, you can. You’ll see.”

She arched, responding to something in the hard authority of his voice. He was raw power and strength and she had never had that in a lover . . . hell, never in a boyfriend. He was her fantasy. A man who could take command in bed and dish out all the hot, sweaty sex she could handle . . . more than she could handle.

Incredible sensations shot out to every nerve ending before firing back to that sweet spot he hit again and again.

She started to tremble as he pumped in and out, his big hands kneading her bottom in a way that just got her hotter and made that invisible fist tighten and twist low in her belly. She was close again. Strange little sounds fell from her lips. Strange sounds more animal than human tore from her throat. She dropped her hands and seized fistfuls of her comforter, her movements turning clumsy in her desperation.

Her second climax swelled up inside her, starting deep. She curled her toes into the mattress and pushed up, lifting her hips higher.

It was like he knew her. Knew every place to touch. Knew exactly what to do to make her body sing. One hand left her ass to find her clit, his fingers rubbing and pinching the oversensitized nub as he slid in and out of her.

That’s all it took. At last the tension snapped. She shattered, coming again, quivering under him as his pace increased to a frenzy, their bodies smacking loudly.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” His breathing changed, too. His movements became less graceful, more urgent as he drove to his own release. He cursed, surging deep, holding himself still as he came inside her, releasing a guttural groan.

He gave another short thrust, his hand dropping to splay on her belly in a way that made her feel marked, her body claimed in a way that was new. New and not unwelcome.

Removing his hand from her stomach, he dropped onto his side beside her, breathing heavily.

Euphoria clung to her, leaving her slightly dizzy.

So this was what she had been missing.

The instant the thought entered her head she wondered how she would ever go without it—without him—again. Euphoria or not, she wasn’t blind to the weirdness factor. She’d just had mind-blowing sex with her neighbor.

Oh, and he happened to be an ex-con.

She held very still beside him, unsure how to react. What did one say in a situation like this? Would he get up and leave now? Would they resume like this never happened? Should she get up and put on her clothes and offer him a drink?

His arm reached out, wrapping around her waist and hauling her close, tucking her to his side. She snuck a glance at his face. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. His chest moved up and down too quickly. She waited several moments to see if he was going to say anything.