She was caught in a whirlwind, sensations piling atop each other, pleasure ripping through her as the stiff length of his c**k stretched her, sending a burning ecstasy roiling through her system.
How was she supposed to deny him now? How the hell was she supposed to survive again once it was over and Dawg went on to the next conquest? Because this—oh Lord—this could become addictive.
Her gaze moved from where he was buried inside her, lifting over the flat, rippling planes of his abdomen to his fiercely set expression. Light green eyes glowed in the dark expanse of his face; long, sooty lashes were lowered to half-mast; and a flush of erotic pleasure stained his cheekbones.
He was a warrior, a conqueror, and he was stealing her soul.
“You like this.” He shifted, moved, drawing free of her body slowly before pushing heavily inside her once again.
Mercy. It was too good. Her back bowed as she arched to it, driving him inside her as she felt the muscles of her pu**y stretch again. Burning, searing pleasure.
“Tell me you like this, Crista.” His voice was filled with wicked knowledge as he began a slow, heavy rhythm, f**king her as though he had all the time in the world when she knew that if she didn’t orgasm soon, she was going to die.
“Come on, honey,” he urged, his voice insistent, almost gentle. “Tell me you missed feeling me inside you, f**king you slow and easy, making you burn for me.”
Her head shook desperately. She couldn’t miss what she hadn’t had, could she? He had taken her hard, fast, in a variety of ways and positions, but he hadn’t taken her like this. Like the act mattered. Like she mattered.
“Look at me, Crista. Come on, open your eyes, honey.”
His voice was too gentle, too rough with passion. Her eyes opened, and she felt the first tear fall.
A stupid tear, because he was taking her too deep, stealing too much of her.
Dawg almost stopped at the sight of that single tear easing down her cheek. And he would have, if he hadn’t seen much more than that in her eyes. Shimmering damply, they were filled with such tormented need, a hunger that he recognized, one he knew went clear to the soul.
It was a hunger he recognized because it was the same hunger that had tormented him for too long. So many years dreaming of her, and she was better than the dream. Sweeter than passion, hotter than lust.
Silky wet with the juices gathering inside her, coating his dick with syrupy heat and lubricating each heavy thrust inside her.
Delicate muscles clamped on his cock, stroked over him with a tight-fisted grip, and nearly destroyed his determination to go slow. To take her easy. To relish every f**king minute inside her when he wanted nothing more than to pound into her pu**y with greedy, harsh strokes.
He was a hard lover. He had always known that. Sometimes, he hated that part of his sensuality, because going slow and easy had always taken thought. He had to think his way through each thrust to keep his head. Until Crista. Taking her slow and easy was—damn, it was easy. He wasn’t thinking, he was relishing, enjoying, burning alive in her heat.
“I shouldn’t have taken you so hard yesterday,” he crooned, suddenly wondering if he had been too rough with her after all, if he had hurt her.
She was delicate, tender. Not like the other women he had been with, women who knew and anticipated that hardened side of his sexuality.
“Dawg.” She was panting. Those stiff little ni**les were pushing closer to his face as her lips parted to drag in more air. “Please…” her head tossed on the pillow. “Not like this.”
Not like this?
He pushed inside her, deep, forcing himself to stop, to make her feel as his dick throbbed inside her.
“You’re wrapped around me like a fist,” he gritted out. “Feel it, Crista. I can. Your pu**y is working over my dick like a hot little mouth starving for satisfaction. Deny you want this. Just like this.”
He flexed inside her again, feeling the head of his c**k stroking her, the crown positioned just right to notch the flared, stiffened edge into her G-spot. He stroked her internally, watching her eyes darken, her face flush a delicate pink as the pleasure began to build higher, hotter.
Damn, she was making him high just from the feel of her. The blood was pounding in his head, adrenaline and lust clouding his vision as he shook his head and breathed in roughly.
Just a few more minutes. God, he had to feel her just a few more minutes. He couldn’t come yet, not yet, not until those little ripples around his dick began to clench and spasm in release.
Crista felt her legs lifting, felt her body melting, and she whimpered at the surrender that rushed through her mind. She couldn’t fight this. He was buried inside her, fiery hot and thick, pulsing and stroking internal muscles that even after all this time hadn’t forgotten the pleasure he could give her.
She bit her lip as she stared up at him. Her wild man. That was what he was, a wild man. Maybe not hers, but here, buried inside her, for this moment in time, he was hers. And he was every inch a primal, sexual male.
His eyes were so light now they seemed to glow within his face, his lips tight with the fight for control. She didn’t want his control. She wanted what she had before. Wild, primitive. Maybe, just maybe she could survive the fallout later.
As she watched, a smile tugged at the taut line of his lips, and he began to move again. That slow, destructive rhythm that forced her to feel every blazing inch of his cock.
Oh, that was good. Her breath hitched; a hard, jerking shudder tore through her body as her h*ps jerked upward to hold him inside her as long as possible.
“Oh yeah, you like that,” he muttered, his voice becoming thicker, rough. “I like it, Crista. I like it a lot.”
Of course he liked it. He was winning. Triumph glittered in his gaze as her hands tightened on the wrists beside her head.
“Let’s see if you like this.”
The rhythm stayed the same, but his head lowered, his lips surrounding a hard, sensitive nipple and drawing it into his mouth.
“Oh, God. Dawg, please, don’t…” Don’t make her feel this. Don’t make her lose her senses to him.
Her head twisted against the mattress, though she arched closer, pushing the peak deeper into his mouth.
His lips, teeth, tongue. They all played with the hot nerve center of her nipple. Licking, nipping, suckling with male greed as he continued to thrust inside her slow and easy.
Her pu**y was clenching around the length of his erection, spasming with brutal need and desperate lust. Her hands moved from his wrists to his head, trembling fingers sinking into his long hair, holding him closer as her h*ps moved beneath him.