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‘Wrap your legs around me.’

I did as he demanded, the rigid erection rubbing against the empty aching spot between my legs through our clothing.

Holding me, he stalked into the bedroom and threw me on the bed. Then stood over me, vibrating with the same desire making me shake.

He tore his shirt out of his trousers, then grabbed the back of it to yank it over his head. He threw it away as I became transfixed by the swirl of ink over sculpted muscles, the livid red scar where he’d been shot, which was healing over now, and the fading purple bruises from his imprisonment.

My lungs contracted, the desire like a molten rock, pounding at my core, the need coiling, tightening, my nipples swelling as he ripped open his fly and stripped off his trousers and boxers.

The thick erection, the evidence of how much he wanted me, looked even more intimidating. But I wanted to feel it inside me.

He grasped his cock, a bead of moisture appearing at the tip as he rubbed himself roughly. Then he snagged my ankle with his free hand.

‘Naked, Eva, now!’ he growled, the feral light becoming savage, untamed.

I scrambled to obey him while he grabbed a foil packet from the pocket of his discarded trousers and threw it beside me on the bed. My skin tightened, my sex becoming slick with need, the flush of desire spreading.

Once I had kicked off the sweats and flung away my bra, he hooked his finger into my soaked panties and yanked them down.

My breathing accelerated. Anticipation making my mouth water.

He climbed onto the bed, caging me in, forcing me to lie back, his body so much bigger and stronger than mine. But I didn’t feel weak any more as I caressed his bronzed skin. I explored the slabs of muscle, the soft hair curling around taut nipples, traced the wings of the dragon which covered his shoulder, my heart rising into my throat as he shuddered with a need he couldn’t disguise.

He covered one aching breast with his hand, stroking the swollen flesh, pinching the engorged nipple—to send sensation shimmering down to my yearning sex.

I ran my open palm down his abs, into the hair at his groin, and wrapped my fingers around that intimidating erection. He swore against my neck but let me caress him.

His breathing became as harsh as my own as I learned the size and girth, felt the blood pump beneath the velvet. But then he swore and tore my hand away, to flip me onto my stomach.

I was still reeling, anticipation and vulnerability making me giddy, when I heard him tear open the foil packet. Then he grasped my hips in hard hands, to drag me up onto all fours.

Suddenly, the broad head of his cock was stretching my sex wide as he entered me from behind. I quivered, panted, struggling to adjust to the penetration, the yearning to have him lodged deep inside me overwhelming as he pushed into me in merciless increments.

He grunted, anchored to the hilt at last. Rough hands grasped my breasts, his fingers squeezing the nipples and sending darts of pleasure shooting to my already tender core as he secured me for his devastating thrusts.

I moaned, each ruthless thrust massaging a spot inside me that intensified the pleasure, turning it to exquisite pain… The too-full feeling ebbed as the brutal joy gripped me again.

My whole body strained, trembling violently as the pain and pleasure became one enormous cataclysm, centring on where our bodies joined, those overwhelming thrusts, the sound of our sweat-slicked flesh slapping together, basic and elemental.

‘Please, I can’t…’ I cried, tethered, controlled, desperate.

Understanding me, he let go of one breast and found my needy clit, so swollen, too tender. One brush of his thumb released the coil of need—triggering a shattering rush of sensation so strong, I sobbed with gratitude. And relief.

As the furious orgasm slammed into me in endless waves, he grew even bigger inside me, thrusting hard, plunging deep, faster and further until he roared out his own release.

When his hands slid from my hips, I fell face first onto the bed—his possession of me complete.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Dante

I scooped Eva off the bed, the forceful orgasm still echoing in my groin and making my knees feel like overcooked pasta. I walked into the bathroom with her limp in my arms, struggling to make sense of the emotions churning in my gut.

Why could I not keep the chilly control with her, the detachment I maintained with every other woman I had ever fucked?

And why did I not wish to let her go even now, when I had already climaxed?

We were both a sweaty mess, I told myself. And wanting to shower with her did not make me besotted, it was simply to prepare her for the night ahead. When I would take her again… And again.