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God, he’s so hard. So ready. Aching for me so intently I can feel it.
There’s no thrill in the world like knowing you’re wanted by the man who becomes your everything.
As I plant my knees next to his hips again, he grasps my waist.
“You’re shaking, Shel. You want me inside you that bad?” he growls, adding another nip of teeth to my lip.
“Please. Now.” I settle on top of him again—a position that’s becoming a favorite among many ever since his hurt leg—and lower myself down, teasing the head of his cock.
“Too slow,” he growls, lunging up and stealing my breath as he sinks deep inside me.
Delicious.
The first ten greedy strokes nearly send me spinning over the edge.
Releasing the moan in my throat, I deepen our kiss, dragging my nails down his chest. He gives back a lion’s purr that vibrates against my tongue.
This man knows my body too well, and he’s hellbent on reminding me.
Weston takes my nipple against his tongue, brushing it with pleasure, while his upward thrusts swing so hard his balls smack my ass.
I whimper against his face.
My own personal Lucifer, and he knows exactly what to do, and when.
It’s not long before I’m the one being punished with quickening thrusts and a sweet, stinging friction on my clit.
“West!” I whine, my breath deserting me along with my soul.
I can’t take any more.
So I arch my back, bracing to take him as deep and as hard as I can before my climax hits.
Coming!
The O is a lightning bolt, a whip, a white-hot rhapsody that curls my toes into the sand.
The sun kissing my bare skin adds something extra, this visceral warmth that makes me feel like I’m airborne, far away from every care in the world except for the god under me.
And I’ve barely begun coming when that god I married looks at me with a ferocious expression.
His eyes are glowing slits.
His muscles are stone.
His teeth could swallow me in one bite.
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
He’s about to—
“Shel—fuck!” he roars. “Don’t you stop. Keep that pussy coming.”
And I do, barely holding my eyes open to see him when he comes undone.
My climax becomes an ongoing cluster of ecstasy, one raging hit after the next, as he thrusts into me again and again.
A guttural rasp leaves his throat like a breeding bull in rut.
