He was so damn big—beautifully so. She wanted to take him in all at once, but she knew, even wet as she was, that it would take a moment for her body to open for a man of his size.
“Ah, that’s it, princess. So. Damn. Good. So tight. Fuck.” He pressed a little deeper. “I am gonna fuck you so good and hard,” he muttered, taking her face in one big hand and holding her tight. “I am gonna bury myself until my balls are pressed tight up against your lovely . . . hot . . . pussy.”
He was forcing her to look at him, and the intensity of his gaze on hers was almost shocking. Electric. She was shaking all over—with scorching pleasure at the first hint of him filling her, with the need to take as much of him in as she could. Shaking with sharp desire and a touch of fear at the restrained beast she saw behind his eyes. She wanted that animal to be let loose, unleashed on her body. She didn’t care if it hurt. She wanted it all. Wanted all of him.
In one punishing thrust he buried his cock to the hilt, driving the breath from her body. Driving pleasure deep. Then he bent to kiss her mouth, shifted to bite her shoulder, his teeth grinding into her skin. And she loved it all, the ownership of his actions. She refused to think about it—she wanted to be in the moment, in the pure pleasure of it as he slung his hips and began to fuck her.
It was a rough, relentless pounding, his teeth sinking deeper, his rigid flesh driving harder into her. And all she could do was hang on to his broad shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin. He was hitting her G-spot, his pelvis crashing into hers, and the pressure built inside her until it was screaming to get out.
“Need to come . . .” she panted.
“No.” He buried a hand in the back of her hair and pulled. “No. Not yet.”
With his other hand he held her wrists above her head, bent and bit into the tender flesh on the underside of her arm. When she yelped, he growled, like a lion purring before devouring its prey. And she knew that was what she was at that moment. A part of her wanted to fight back—she loved that primal struggle—but she felt too taken over by him. Letting her hair go, he slid his hand under her buttocks, lifting her hips to meet his as his fingers dug in, pressing into the pressure points there.
“Ah!”
“Does it hurt, lovely?” he ground out, his Scottish accent so heavy she could barely make out the words. His hips slammed into her as pleasure and pain melded in her system. “I want it to. Need it to. Tell me you need it, Layla. Tell me.”
“Yes.” It came out on a sob—a sob of reluctant yielding and overwhelming sensation and the exquisite need to come. “Yes, I need it. I need you not to be careful with me.”
“I won’t be. I can guarantee you that.”
He started to buck harder into her, one stabbing thrust after another, faster and faster. Pleasure was a hammer, then a tight coil, then a fiery heat, the steam needing to be released.
“Duff, goddamn it! Let me come.”
“Too damn used to being the boss,” he muttered, his fingers digging deeper into the sore flesh of her ass.
“Fucking hell, Duff!”
“Oh, yeah,” he ground out, his voice low and guttural. “Beg me. Cuss me out. Let it out, princess. I love it.”
Lifting her hips, he knelt up over her, then pulled her up until she was straddling his thighs. And using his enormous strength, his hands on her hips, he raised her up, then slammed her down on his cock so hard it made her teeth rattle. But she loved it—needed the savage tempo of it. The beast was out, released from whatever cage he kept it in, and she wanted it all.
“Jesus. God. Fucking you, princess . . . fucking you so. Damn. Hard. Yeah!”
He threw his head back and the beast screamed, unleashed at last. Her body let loose, her orgasm a wild animal meeting his wild beast. She cried out, pleasure searing her, rising up like a fine white light inside her that exploded over and over, like fireworks and stars and a brilliant, blinding sun.
“Ahhhhhhhh!”
Falling on top of her, he kept plunging into her, and she was helpless against it. Helpless when he demanded, “Come again.”
Then, still inside her, he turned her onto her side before his hand went to her clit and circled the swollen flesh. His heavy cock was still half-hard, moving inside her. And as hard as she’d come, it was as if her body hadn’t had enough. Desire built so quickly, it shocked her. Her pussy began to clench, and he bit her shoulder, his teeth dragging over her skin.
“Oh, fuck!”
“You hold it back this time,” he ordered, his voice harsh, threatening. “You hold it until I tell you to come.”
She loved that, too—enough that she pulled in a breath and did as he said. She held it back even as he swept the teeth marks on her shoulder with his hot, sweet tongue, as he continued to fuck her, to circle her tight, throbbing clitoris. Her hips were bucking against his hand, against the still-solid shaft inside her. And she was dizzy with the effort it took not to let go.
“Duff,” she gasped.
“Not yet.”
“Please . . .”
“No, Layla.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Fuck.”
“Look at me,” he commanded.
He shifted her body until she was on her back once more, with him still inside her, and she opened her eyes—what else could she do? And his gaze was still full of intensity, the beast still lurking in the light and the shadows.
When he said, “Kiss me,” all she could do was tilt her chin and wait for his lips.
His mouth was so, so soft on hers—there was an odd romance to it, despite the rough sex, despite his stern orders. Emotion welled in her chest, but she swallowed it back, along with her climax. He moaned into her mouth and she groaned in answer. It seemed as if time had stopped, suspended in those timeless, keen-edged moments while she waited to be allowed to come.
“Now,” he murmured quietly against her lips.
That was all it took—one sharp stab of pleasure tore at her insides; then she was screaming his name, her body convulsing, the fireworks going off in her head once more. She felt torn apart by pleasure, by this man.
This man.
A tear fell from her eye and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.