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Releasing her wrists, he abruptly returned to his knees, grabbed her ankles and lifted them in the air.
“You know what I expect,” he growled, beginning to pump. “If you don’t ask, I’ll stop.”
Gazing down at her glorious body, he soaked in the luscious sight and savored the moment. Her pussy was sopping, her tits were bouncing as he thrust, and her cries of pleasure spurred him on. But his cock was full, and he yearned to erupt.
“Please may I come? Please, please?”
He wanted to tease her, to milk their lovemaking, but his member refused to listen.
“Give it to me,” he demanded, feeling his climax looming and quickening his pace. “Give it to me now!”
Just as his orgasm seized him, her wails echoed through the room. Diving his mouth on hers, the passionate kiss muffled her shrieks and his own guttural groans for endless seconds...until the last spasms waned. Utterly drained and falling beside her, he tried to catch his breath. The power of his release had been startling.
Their connection was real and strong, and her response to his control surpassed his expectations. She needed him, and she craved his authority. She wasn’t curled against him because he was a showbiz bigwig, and he was with her because of the woman she was, not because she was Justin Hartman’s daughter. They were together because they wanted to be. Shifting his gaze to stare down at her, for the first time since they’d met she looked at peace.
He felt it too.
Serene, drained and happy.
* * *
RESTING HER HEAD ONZach’s chest, Emma listened to the heavy hammering of his heart as she drifted into the post-orgasmic bliss. She became vaguely aware of covers being laid over her, then his arms engulfed her, and his warm, strong body snuggled against hers. He was everything she’d expected him to be, perhaps even more. God help anyone who tried to come between them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
OPENING HIS EYES ANDfinding the room dark, Zach thought he’d woken before dawn, then remembered he’d closed the blackout drapes. Emma was still curled around his body, and not wanting to wake her, he carefully shifted to glance at the clock. It read 9:17 a.m. He blinked and looked again. He rarely slept past seven.
Slowly extricating himself from her limbs, he slipped out of bed, picked up the towel from the floor, and wrapping it around his waist, he padded into the living room. Closing the door softly behind him, he moved across to the minibar, grabbed a bottle of water, drank half of it before stopping for a breath, then carried it to the couch. Letting out a breath and mentally preparing himself, he picked up his phone and called Jerry.
“Good morning,” Jerry answered briskly “Out late?”
“I was.”
“You’re entitled. Couple of things. First, my dinner canceled so I decided to take a gander at your script, that Moonbeams thing.”
Zach’s pulse ticked up.
