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‘Not any more...’ he said, cupping the breast he’d exposed and capturing the swollen nipple in his mouth.
She jerked, her ripe flesh engorging in a rush as he suckled strongly. He lifted his head to watch as he shoved the remnants of silk off her, leaving her naked but for the swatch of lace covering her sex.
‘I need you,’ he said, palming her sex through the lace.
The desire to own her, which had been building like wildfire all night, ever since she’d challenged him, was turning into a need so fierce it all but consumed him. Wet heat flooded into his hand as he delved beneath the gusset, found the slick nub of her clitoris.
‘Tell me you need me, too,’ he demanded.
She nodded, her eyes dazed, and yet she was focussed solely on him as he hooked her leg around his waist and fumbled with the zipper of his pants.
His fingers were clumsy, frantic, as he freed his huge erection, ripped away the last barrier between them, and then lifted her to plunge in up to the hilt.
She took him in on a shocked sob.
The penetration was deep, but not deep enough. He needed all of her—every single inch, every single millimetre. Claimed, conquered, branded.
Her head fell back against the glass as he rocked out, thrust back, harder and faster. But still it was not enough. Her first orgasm hit as her sex massaged his, nearly sending him over too, but he held on, held back. He needed more. He needed her total surrender to make this right.
The terrifying realisation barrelled into him as a titanic climax gathered at the base of his spine, more pain than pleasure. Too raw, too desperate. Suddenly he was that boy again. Needing approval, needing validation, needing respect, needing love.
‘More,’ he groaned. ‘Come again, just for me.’
Holding her up with one arm, still thrusting like a mad man, like an insane person, he found the heart of her pleasure, circled the swollen nub with his thumb. She came around him, pulsing hard, the orgasm even more intense than the first, and he yelled and finally let himself shatter too, body and soul, pouring himself into her.
They sank together to the carpet. Her naked limbs were tangled with his. Her face was pressed into his neck, and the shattered gasps of her breathing matched his as he cradled her body.
And knew he’d made her his, the only way he ever could.
* * *
Cassie sat on the carpet, struggling to capture her breath and make sense of what had just happened. It had been like a whirlwind. She felt so raw, so...owned. So exhausted.
It was six in the morning and she knew despite everything, despite all her warnings to herself, that she’d fallen hopelessly in love with the man whose head now rested on her shoulder as they both tried to claw back the sanity they’d lost so comprehensively.
This wasn’t just sex. Had never been just sex. Not for her.
The sound of her phone buzzing crashed into the terrifying thought. She reached for her bag, suddenly desperate to escape the painful pressure in her chest which had been there for days but was now threatening to crush her ribcage.
She couldn’t be in love with Luke. It would force her right back to where she’d been all those years ago. With her self-worth, her security, tied to a man who didn’t love her back.
‘Hey...’ He grasped her wrist as she retrieved the phone from her bag, her fingers trembling. ‘You’re not taking that,’ he said.
It was a command, not a question. And something deep in her heart twisted. She’d let so much of herself go for this man, and none of it made sense any more. She had to leave—had to get out. Before the damage was irreparable.
‘I have to. It might be important.’
She eased herself off the floor, grasped the remains of the silk dress which he’d torn off her only moments before, held it to cover her nakedness. Panic at what they had just shared—so urgent, so basic, so uncontrolled—gathered in her gut alongside the need to run before Luke realised the truth.
Her hand shook as she pressed her thumb to the home screen to unlock her phone and read the message from her boss.
I need you. Can you get an early flight back?
She blinked. Temple’s text was so out of character it barely registered for a moment. But when it did, she knew she had a way out.
It was cowardly, weak, pitiable—she knew all that—but as she tapped out a reply on her phone, still trembling from the orgasms which had shattered her, the panic controlled her.
This was a fight for survival now. If she stayed another minute, another day, all it would do was crush what was left of her spirit, her independence and her self-respect.
