Page 63 of Ready For His Rule

Big enough to punch into her soul, as well.

Then seeing it.

Then demanding it.

Commanding her to give him even that now.

Knowing she’d no longer be able to resist. Especially if he angled himself down into her a little higher…then pushed extra hard, pinning her pelvis until her clit smashed against the coverlet—

She screamed for him.

She screamed into him.

He latched their mouths harder as soon as the orgasm hit, keeping her grounded even as her body shot like a rocket into an ether of white-hot bliss. For every wave of her pleasure, John had another trio of savoring growls—until one overrode them all, mighty and masculine, as he pounded her so hard, the smacks of their bodies were almost as loud as his punishing foreplay.

Oh, God.

His foreplay.

Thoughts of it all—the spanks, the ferocity, his commitment, his command—washed another climax upon her, toppling the first. But there was no scream this time. There was only the silent, intense, straining surrender…the surety that everything she once was had just been demolished, and somehow, in some way, she’d have to resurrect a new Tracy from the pile of those sated cinders. Even if she didn’t want to.

Which was why, the moment Franz rose to get rid of the condom, she forced her muscles to work once more. With a tight groan, she rolled to her back—but was only pushed back to her elbows when the man reentered from the bathroom.

“Well, isn’t this a nice dessert.” He crossed the tattooed masterpieces the rest of the world knew as his arms. To her, they had entirely new definitions—especially the hands and fingers into which they tapered.

She swallowed, pushing those thoughts back. Way back. With a soft huff, she rolled toward the end of the bed—

Until her ankle was seized by one of the hands she’d been fantasizing about.

“Hey!”

“Hey?” How had he moved with the same measured calm as his voice? He was like a damn ninja…

“What are you doing?”

“Where you going?”

“John.”

“Tracy.”

“Let me go.”

“Answer my question.”

She expelled a long breath. At least he hadn’t used one of those nicknames, infused with the island accent capable of melting her like sugar in water. Right now, she’d take any scrap of strength she could get. “You know where I’m going. This—you—were—”

“What?” His voice was like his hold. Gentle, but ready to clench if he had to. Strangely, it made her feel…safe. Secure enough to preface her answer with a soft laugh.

“Truth? I was trying to think of a better superlative than ‘incredible’, ‘amazing’, or ‘mind-blowing’.”

He twisted his hand, moving his thumb in order to stroke the curve of her ankle. “Which is why you’re trying to leave before your blood pressure returns to normal?”

Humor, exit stage right. Arrogant god who knew he’d just fucked a woman’s mind into next Tuesday? Enter stage left. “My blood pressure is fine.”

“Tell that to the pulse in your neck. And the flush on your face.”

“Tell that to my life, Captain Franzen.”

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