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She collapsed against him at last. His touch was still firm, still there.
She grasped his wrist. ‘Please, it’s too much.’
He withdrew his hand, but then turned her to him, cradled her cheeks. His thumb trailed across her lips.
She could taste her own pleasure on his fingers. And something raw and erotic bumped and swelled at her core as he lifted her limp body into his arms and placed her on the bed.
She watched him strip off in the moonlight. Saw the sculpted muscles of his chest, the bold lines of his hip flexors, the dark line of hair that trailed through washboard abs and bloomed at his groin. Her gaze devoured the masculine beauty of his body, then settled on the column of erect flesh—so thick, so long—proving how much he wanted her.
She’d never seen him fully naked all those years ago. Why did this feel so much more intimate, so much more overwhelming?
But then her gaze rose to his as he crawled onto the bed, trapping her yearning body against his as he stripped off her thong.
He kissed her with feverish desire, fervent desperation.
‘We’re not through yet, Lacey,’ he said with an urgent desire which held threat as well as promise. His lips traced down her torso to torment her too-sensitive nipples, first one, then the other, licking, nipping, sucking, until she was moaning again.
His lips trailed lower, kissing her quivering flesh, now aching with desperation once more. He spread her legs, opening her completely.
‘We’ve only just started,’ he said, his breath feathering her exposed sex.
Then he touched the molten heart of her. She jolted and cried out, the sensation too much and yet not enough. Licking and probing, his devious mouth drew her moans forth until his lips captured the swollen nub and suckled hard. Her sex pulsed and throbbed, another orgasm barrelling towards her with staggering speed. The shocking climax was brutal in its intensity.
She collapsed onto the bed, struggling to gather her breath when his big body loomed above her. She watched him, dazed, disorientated, her body still awash in brutal pleasure as he rolled on a condom with clumsy fingers.
At last, he grasped her hips, positioned the huge head of his erection at her sodden entrance then drove himself deep in one all-consuming thrust.
A guttural moan she didn’t even recognise as her own echoed around the room. The slickness of her orgasms eased his entry. But, once he was lodged to the hilt, the stretched feeling she remembered was all but overwhelming.
She felt impaled, conquered, owned as the devastating waves began to build again, impossibly.
‘Hold on to me...’ He grunted.
She clasped his sweat-slicked shoulders and clung on as he began to move. Drawing out, pounding back, he forced her to new heights as the pleasure rolled back over her, even harder, faster and more furious than before.
This time, when release came, it slammed into her, sending her soaring into a delirious, welcome oblivion.
She heard him shout out from many miles away as he charged after her into the same stunning, scary, bottomless abyss.
Brandon pulled out of the woman beneath him, bracing his arms to stop from crushing her. He flopped back on the bed beside her, the last of the mind-blowing orgasm still rippling through him and turning his mind, and his senses, to mush.
What the hell was that?
His body felt altered somehow, the desire still pulsing through his system and making him feel more alive, more attuned to another human being than he ever had before...except maybe once.
He frowned and turned to see Lacey’s bare shoulder. She’d rolled away from him and curled in on herself. The rise and fall of her breathing suggested she had dropped into a deep sleep.
Who is she?
Why had she responded to him with such unrestrained enthusiasm? And why had each soft moan, each sweet sob, each shudder of surrender, only made him more ravenous? More desperate to push her further, to take more?
Had it really all been an act?
But, even as he tried to convince himself, he couldn’t. He was a good judge of people and he knew her reaction, when he’d insisted she keep any intimacy between them off the record, had been absolutely genuine. She’d been upset and determined to walk away.
He still wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t let her. Because, even before he’d got her naked and made her come apart in his arms—not once, not twice, but three times, with a wild abandon which had stunned him—he’d known this connection was too intense, too savage to be easily controlled.
He should wake her up, ask her to leave. He never slept with women through the night because he hated to encourage too much intimacy.
