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His little tigress moaned and purred around his lips, thrust her hands into his hair and held on while he took her on the ride of her life.
‘Finn, Finn, Finn...’
‘It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’ll get you over.’
‘I don’t like this. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s never been this way before.’
The words poured out on a rush but he got the general gist. Sex didn’t usually flip her switch. Bastard that he was, he revelled in that.
‘This doesn’t feel normal,’ she whimpered.
‘I know, beautiful.’ Nowhere near normal.
Which was the entire problem. He was feeling things. Desperation, need, a want like no other. A bone-deep fervour to protect, to satisfy her every craving, her every wish, to make her come over and over until her cries of ecstasy filled his mouth. To give her the world and the stars beyond. Too much. It was all just too damn much.
Holding her up with one hand, he smoothed around her small waist, then un-popped the button of her jeans. Her piercing teased and tormented his fingers and he growled as his flesh turned to granite. Keep it together...keep it together. What are you? A virgin?
He wanted in, and the angle was all wrong, so with a light squeeze of her deliciously pert rear he loosened his hold and splayed his hand beneath the T-shirt on her back to keep her close. The touch of her fevered skin was like an electrical charge up his arm.
What he wouldn’t do to have a good, long look at the body that had featured so prominently in his dreams. To claw at her clothes and tear her panties off with his teeth.
Serena shimmied to the floor, snatching kisses as if she never wanted to leave his mouth, and burrowed under his polo shirt, making him sweat.
Okay, then. She wasn’t the patient type. Which was dangerous with a capital D because he was—it was the only way to stay in control.
‘Slow—slow down, baby.’
She had to slow down. Before he buried himself in her dewy heat and lost himself inside her.
‘Oh, God, this is so good,’ she moaned.
‘You knew I would be.’
‘Arrogant man.’
With great pains he managed to focus on her luscious mouth and devour her, trying his hardest to focus as he slowly but surely eased the waistband of her jeans down her hips and encountered some lacy girly version of boxer shorts.
Oh, man, he was a goner. ‘I have to look.’
‘Now, where have I heard that before?’ she panted.
Finn pulled back and ripped her hoodie and her T-shirt over her head; his temples were pounding, his blood was pounding, his erection was pounding. Everything was pounding.
Her jeans were rucked around mid-thigh, her biker boots sculpted her calves and those subtle curves were making his vision swim. Then he was seeing red... Red? Bra and panties. Closet girl, that was what she was.
‘Red,’ he growled.
His first thought was, She’s perfect. His second thought was, Oh, hell, she’s perfect.
Lamplight spilled over the room and he could just make out the lustrous tone of her ivory skin dusted with freckles. He wanted to lie her down and count them all, give them names and kiss every one. He wanted to crush her to him and hold on tight. And from nowhere came the senseless idea that he could be a one-woman-forever man, that she could trust him always.
With defcon speed he ruthlessly shut the notion down. He was never taking the risk of hurting her. He’d already done too much of that already and she didn’t know half of it.
‘Stop staring at me!’
‘No chance.’ He was looking and she was going to learn to like it, to know how seriously sexy she was.
He cursed blue to get his point across. Lots of the F-word and gorgeouses and sexys flying out of his mouth at two hundred miles per hour.
Then he kissed her hard, to back up every word with a truckload of ardour just in case she wasn’t getting the point. And with each thrust of his tongue and every swivel of his hips desire mounted, until her rapture created a cloud of erotic fervour and her rich arousal plumed in the air.
Oh, man, he wanted to bite her, mark her, brand her like the animal he was inside.
Hand splayed, he rubbed his palm over her piercing and sank it beneath her shorts, delving to touch her hot heat.
A tortured moan filled the air. His. Hers. Theirs.
She was slick and swollen with want, and when her hips bucked, moisture trickled down his finger.
‘Serena...’ he groaned, tormenting her with a good dose of exquisite friction.
Gingerly he peeled one shoulder strap down her upper arm, and when her perfect C’s popped free the room spun as if he was on a whirly top. They were like works of art. Firm but soft. Each underswell lush and round and topped with a dusky rose nipple.
