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Her hands moved over his naked body, feeling that warmth, that need as he pressed her thighs apart and moved over her.
“Wrap your legs around me.” The wicked flavor of his voice was deeper now, darker, as though he couldn’t hold back who and what he was when he was with her like this.
His hands gripped the outside of her thighs as her arms went around his neck. The heavy width of his cock nudged against her sex, slid against the slick folds, then found the clenched, tight entrance it sought.
The lack of foreplay was only more erotic. The desperate hunger that suddenly raged between them had her heart racing, her body trembling as pleasure raced through her.
Bailey’s head fell back as a whimper of hunger, of pleasure fell from her lips. She felt him working the hardened flesh inside her. Her legs tightened around his hips, her breathing was gasps of pleasure, her cries were of desperate need.
His fingers kneaded her rear, gripped it, moved her as his hips bucked against her. She was flying in the face of a torrent of sensations and fought just to catch a breath that eluded her.
Ecstasy slammed through her, over her. Heat surrounded her. The feel of his arms flexing beneath hers, his hands holding her, his hips shifting, moving, thrusting harder against her as her hips arched, her head grinding into the pillow.
Bailey needed, ached, and hungered. She had never felt this desperate, this hot. She had never before felt as though the world were focused on this one point in time, this one moment when nothing mattered but the pleasure tearing through her.
“Hell yeah,” John groaned at her ear as she pressed closer to him, her hips moving, shifting, dragging ragged groans from both of them.
Tender, ultra-sensitive tissue rippled and clenched around his shuttling cock as she fought to hold him inside her.
“You’ll kill me like this.” His lips were at her jaw, her neck, stroking and caressing. “Sweet baby.” Pressing her closer against him, he moved one hand from her rear to her breast. His thumb and finger gripped her nipple, plumped it, stroked fire through it.
“You’ll survive,” she gasped as sensations began to burn and tighten inside her, merging into a conflagration of intensity.
Bracing his elbows into the bed, John thrust inside her again, hard and deep, and she felt her breath gasp from her lips.
This was how he wanted her. Wicked and wanting to be in his arms, John thought. Her nails bit into his shoulders, sending pinpoints of fire racing through his system. The sweet grip of her pussy tightened like a fist around him, slick and hot.
He would never forget this, never forget her like this. Her head thrown back against the pillow, eyes closed, her lips parted as she fought, and sometimes failed, to breathe.
She held on to him as though he were the center of her world, as she was the center of his.
“My Bailey,” he groaned, unable to hold back the claim, the demand.
God, he wanted to possess her, heart and soul. Holding her, loving her completed his life.
He had nearly lost her. He had turned along that maze, slid into the corridor where Alberto had trapped her, and seen him holding her down, his knife coming around to stroke her neck. Terror had jackknifed inside him.
He could not imagine life without this. Without the sweet heat of her pussy gripping his cock. Without her nails digging into his shoulders, her voice, husky and demanding, calling out his name, begging for more.
He might not be able to claim her before the world, but he could claim her in the dark, away from prying eyes. He could have her. As he was having her now. He could love her, hold her. He could belong to her.
“John.” Her hands moved from his shoulders to his hair. They tangled in the long, sweat-dampened strands, tightened and pulled, and he felt her unraveling.
Her pussy gripped, tightened, and rippled around his dick until his balls became tortured with the need for release.
Not yet. Bailey first. He wanted to feel her coming, he wanted to feel that wet heat racing over his flesh, convulsing around his cock.
“John, please,” she gasped in naked need. “Give me now.” Her head shook, her body trembled. “Oh God. John . . .”
He watched her eyes flare open, watched as they widened and her body tightened while her orgasm rushed through her, over her.
She was like a flame in his arms, burning him, tearing through his soul and leaving the very essence of his need for her laid bare.
“There, sweetheart.” He nipped at her neck as she began to shudder in his arms. “Come for me, Bailey. Come for me, sweetheart. All over me . . .” He thrust harder, deeper, prolonging her pleasure, wanting to live inside her forever.
But that last cry that escaped her lips did him in. He buried himself inside her and lost control, lost that edge that he had always prided himself in. Against his will, against the desperation that burned inside him to wait, to hold on, to relish her just awhile longer, his release tore through him.
And it was like dying inside her. He felt his release tearing from him, shuddering through his body, tightening in his balls, and laying his soul bare.
