Noah could feel the dark need pressing at the edges of his vision, consuming his senses. He kissed her, pausing only long enough to jerk her T-shirt from over her head and to rip the panties from her body.
He was torturously hard. His c**k was furious, determined, his balls tight with the need for greater release than what he had found in the past with only his hand for ease.
He was fighting for breath, his hand sliding between her thighs, finding the soft curls there wet, saturated, slick from her need. Slick and hot. Like honey.
Pressing his fingers closer, sliding between the swollen folds of flesh, he found the entrance to her pu**y. It was tight, flexing around the tip of his finger as it had done the night he took her virginity so long ago.
He pushed her legs apart, lifted himself between them. Foreplay would come later, he promised himself. So many years. Ah God, so long. Nineteen months of that time spent in the horrific grip of a drug so powerful that the need to f**k nearly drove him insane.
And standing between him and the crazed need had been his wife. Her gray eyes staring at him, stark with longing, her voice whispering in his head, holding him back.
"Damn you." He jerked his head back from the kiss, stared down her, barely seeing her face in the darkness that surrounded them. "Do you know how bad I want you?" He clenched his teeth, fought back the words.
"Then take," she panted. "Take me. Noah. Take me how you need me."
How he needed her.
He shook his head. He tipped it back on his shoulders and wanted to howl in rage.
He wanted to love his wife. He wanted to touch and kiss and taste every inch of her body. He shook, shuddered. He pressed the furiously tight head of his c**k against her entrance and groaned at the heat, the slick sweet essence of her.
He pressed forward. Just for a moment, he promised himself. He had waited this long to take her again. He could wait long enough to pleasure her first.
As he wanted to pleasure her the day Rick Grayson had interrupted them. As he had meant to pleasure her the day before when she took his seed and left him twisting on a rack of arousal that nearly destroyed him.
She wanted him, as he had been. All he had to give her was who and what he had been made into. He pressed inside. He caught her wrists as they slapped against his chest, pushed them to the bed as he came over her, poised at the gates of ecstasy, only the tip of his erection feeling the pleasure.
"Say no now," he bit out. "Say it now, or you'll not say it at all. Do you hear me?"
She lifted her head, her sharp little teeth nipped his lips.
"Kiss me," she whispered roughly. "Kiss me as you take me, Noah."
So she couldn't ask him to stop? So she wouldn't scream one man's name and mean another's?
"Ah Sabella," he groaned. "Ah God, baby."
He covered her lips, took them with his own, and let the hunger tear through him.
It had been too long since he had felt his wife beneath him. Too long since he had felt the fiery pleasure of her pu**y stretching to take him, heard her cries beneath his lips and known she was riding the same wave of pleasure he was.
His h*ps jerked, his c**k pushing, thrusting, plunging, working its way inside her as she tightened and arched beneath him.
His lips took her cries, his tongue filled her mouth, thrusting inside it as he pumped his erection inside the sweet bliss between her thighs.
He was pushing, penetrating, and when he couldn't stand the torture any longer he jerked his head back, released her lips and her wrists.
His hands caught at her hips, held them to him as he straightened on his knees, lifted her ass to his thighs and began the hard, driving rhythm he needed.
He heard the sounds coming from his throat, and they didn't matter. Deep, hoarse growls of need as his eyes closed, sweat beaded his body, and the tight, hot clasp of her pu**y convulsed and rippled around him.
He was driving inside her. Unable to stop, relishing, loving every stroke that damned his soul forever as he gave his wife every furious inch, every agonizing ounce of lust that raged inside him.
Sabella felt her fingers tighten in the comforter beneath her, fought to hold on to something because she was losing her mind with the pounding strokes filling her body.
She had never been so ready. Foreplay wasn't needed. His kiss, the almost brutal strokes of his erection filling her were ratcheting the pleasure, the dark, seductive call of something she had never had rising inside her.
This. She had never had this. Pure, desperate hunger. Lust in its richest form. The rapid-fire strokes digging into her, stretching her, burning her, sending racing, flaming arrows of sensation tearing through her body.
Noah took her hard, without apology. He took her like a man riding the edge of insanity, the only thought the release she could give him. Just her. No one else. Just this, taking her, melting with her until she was screaming his name. Screaming, begging, then erupting beneath him as she felt her orgasm explode in a brutal wave of sensation.
It was cataclysmic. As though the foreplay had gone on forever, when actually there had been none. As though he had teased her unmercifully, pushed her higher and higher, and she was flying. Arched tightly to him, feeling his release spurting inside her as he continued to thrust, to push for more, his hungry groan filling the air as she jerked beneath him.
"Not enough!" The snarl rent the air.
Sabella felt him jerk back, turn her to her stomach, and lift her to him. He was inside her again, jackhammer strokes arching her, jerking her upright until her arms curled behind her, catching his neck as she felt his hands over her.
All over her. He stroked her thighs as he f**ked her, her stomach, cupped her br**sts, and pressed her ni**les between his fingers as he spread his thighs wider, balanced them both and pushed inside her with rapid strokes.
Heat flowed around them and through them, and the night became immersed with her cries.
"So tight," he groaned, pausing, his breathing rough. "Sweet and tight. Move against me, Sabella. Show me you want it."
She moved. Worked her h*ps against him, rotated and lifted herself, lowered herself. She rocked back against him, gasping for breath as she felt his lips at her neck, his beard rough against her skin.
"Tell me." The rough, wicked whisper caressed her ear. "What do you want?"
His hands gripped her h*ps again.
"Hard?" He buried himself inside her hard, deep.
"Slow?" He moved, retreating, filling her with a slow, throbbing stroke that had her crying out in protest.