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His fingers parted the curl-covered folds between her thighs, and a second later, one broad, male finger was piercing her core.
Crista froze. Heat exploded in her vagina, tore through her bloodstream and into her womb as she felt the tender muscles clenching desperately around his caressing finger.
“So hot. ” He was panting as his lips lifted from a reddened nipple, and his eyes, darker now but still mesmerizing, almost hypnotizing, stared into hers. “So tight and hot, Crista. ”
Her hips jerked as his finger pulled back, then stroked inside her again. One long thrust that had her gasping and arching in his arms, her thighs falling farther apart, her hips lifting for a deeper, wilder penetration.
“You’ll destroy me,” she cried out, her fingers digging into his scalp as his tongue licked over her nipple. “Again. You’ll destroy me again, Dawg. ”
He had to understand. He couldn’t do this to her again. She could easily give herself to him, just like before.
“It’s okay, Crista. I won’t hurt you, baby,” he groaned. “It’s just us. See? No one else is here.
Ever. God, I’d kill the man that tried to touch you now. ”
She cried out as another finger joined the first, thrust inside her, parted flesh that had never known another man’s touch, never clenched, never became slick and hot and achy as it did for Dawg.
“Mine. ” His snarl shocked her.
His lips covering hers again fed the hungers rising sharp and deep inside her.
Her hips lifted, arched as she bucked against him, writhing beneath his larger body as his fingers fucked into her, sent a firestorm of sensation raging through her.
She had sworn she would never let this happen again. But here she was, naked, hot, wet, and begging for more.
Her lips were wild beneath his, taking kiss for kiss and returning it with another. Her fingers held him to her. Her thighs tightened on the cloth-covered leg between her knees, and she fought to hold his fingers inside her.
She was falling. Just like she had before. Losing her common sense, her heart, and her soul to this man.
Dumb. Caution was screaming through her brain.
“Now this is a pretty sight. Damn, Dawg, you started without me. I’m hurt. ”
Like a slap of cold water, Natches’s voice tore through her head as Dawg’s head lifted, and Crista swore she heard him curse.
Anger. Pain. Fear. It lashed through her as she stared up at Natches, fighting back the wave of sickness as his gaze flickered over her with amused lust. He was leaning against the bar, thankfully dressed, grinning, and the epitome of every reason why she should have fought harder, should have remembered why she couldn’t let Dawg have another part of her soul.
“Let me go!” She slapped at his shoulders. “Get off me. ”
“Damn it, Crista. You’re naked,” he snarled the reminder.
“Get off me!” She kicked at him, jerking out of his arms and rolling from beneath him.
“Look your fill, asshole,” she told Natches as she grabbed Dawg’s shirt from the floor. “Because it will be the last damn look you ever get the chance to take. ”
Clasping the material over her breasts and making certain it covered her thighs, she tore from the room, rushed past him, and ran for the stairs.
Fine, she was flashing her ass. Let them both look. One last damned time.
“Natches, you’re a bastard,” she heard Dawg curse.
Natches was laughing, and Crista felt like crying.
Because for a few precious moments, she had believed.
She was a fool for it, she admitted to herself. A fool for Dawg. And seconds later, staring around the opulent bedroom, the monstrously large bed, and the drape-shrouded windows that surrounded it, she realized what she had done.
She had run straight to his bedroom rather than the spare room. Straight into Dawg’s private lair.
