Page 56 of Ready For His Rule

How could he know a woman was right for his life, when he had no idea how to define that life?

Even if he had that part figured out, one truth would remain glaringly clear.

His world. Her world. Two separate things.

But right now was only about this world, golden and right, that they would create together. No boundaries. No titles. No ranks. Just her beauty, waiting nude and perfect for him. Just her arms, lifting in welcome to him.

Just his passion, plunging him down to her again.

Just their lust, bursting as their mouths collided again.

Exploding as if they hadn’t just done this minutes ago. Arcing…crashing. Pushing…pulsing.

Searing…then tearing.

Demolishing what he’d been clinging to in the name of decent foreplay. Shattering through him, turning his muscles to flames and his skin into the cage now fried by that blaze. A groan left him as the hellfire spread, only soothed when his body spread hers, fitting tighter against hers. Tracy’s answering moan was a vibration of validation, driving him to spread his knees out, opening her wider for him. The ridge in his pants slid against the sultry seam of her pussy, swelling in recognition of the heaven it sought…burned for…needed.

In the other room, Archer let out a bellow of victory.

Beneath him, Tracy burst with a high cry of wonder.

“Oh,” she rasped. “Oh…my God…” Her pelvis jerked and thrust, reminding him of the sleek, hot escape she offered. Her hands, braced to his shoulders, turned into urgent claws—then nails of piercing demand.

John formed his mouth over hers again. Though Tracy had calmed, her lusty breaths intensified. They were sharp and high, finished off by tiny eruptions matching the passionate points of her nipples. The sight of those stiff berries, along with the pain she kept digging into his shoulders, worked to whip his own mind to the brink of its limits. With every new scream into his mouth and fresh stab into his shoulders, his dick filled with another surge of arousal. His balls made out like horny teenagers. His shaft was swollen, seeping with pre-cum, beyond the point of pain. Even rocking the length along her cleft wasn’t assuagement anymore—no matter how thoroughly the little kitten herself loved it.

“Don’t…stop,” she begged, moving a hand to the back of his head, locking him in her luminous, lusty stare. “Don’t stop, John. Please.”

He forced her to confront the regret in his eyes. “Have to.”

“What? Why?” She bucked against him as she whined it, and the heat of her juices warmed the length of his crotch. By the gods, how delicious she smelled too. Musk and cream and sex. He wanted that scent on the inside of his nose…as his tongue fucked her cunt.

Not before his cock.

Bringing him full circle in this erotic shit storm.

“Can’t…just can’t…do this. Fuck.” The exclamation was his ineffectual protest to her heels at his buttocks, shoving hard enough to propel him against her again. The friction alone nearly unraveled his control. But her hot, plump nether lips, cushioning him like waves of raw fire—

It was rapture.

Torture.

A limit he couldn’t fathom.

A boundary he couldn’t take.

A temptation he could no longer deny.

“Tracy.” It was a buzz saw in his throat, shredding everything on its way out. If it sounded like a yak puking, he didn’t care. The edges of his vision dotted. His cock screamed in need—even as he shoved down the front of his sweats, freeing the glistening length.

“Franzen.” Her breath fanned the front of his neck. Her nails twisted into his skin.

Sending lightning to his cock.

Heat that could no longer be denied.

“John.”

“Shit.” His brain turned to fuzz as his dick sought her body. One thrust did it, consuming him…killing him. He pulled out and fought like hell to stay there, until the wet cushions of her channel sucked him back in. Another lunge, twice as blissful—and terrible—as the first.

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