He moved deliberately, thrusting deep between her thighs, gliding on the satin cream of her arousal which drenched her pussy and trailed down her thighs. Her hips rolled with his cock, her nipples hard points as they dug into his chest. He bent his head to kiss her once more, swallowing the soft cries she made every time his cock plunged deep.
“Dragan.” She breathed his name as she sucked in a breath, her pink tongue darting out to wet lips already gleaming from his kiss. “Dragan,” she repeated, seemingly unable to catch enough breath to talk. But her eyes said what she couldn’t, blurred with passion and dark with a desperate need that made his own eyes narrow to slits of smug satisfaction.
“What do you need?”
She swallowed hard, her fingers digging in the thick muscle of his arms. “I don’t know. It . . .”
“Does it hurt?” he whispered.
She shook her head in vehement denial, her sweat-dampened hair whipping around her face. “Feels good,” she gasped. “Too good.” It was plea for release. He knew what she needed, but he wanted her to say it. Wanted her craving to be a voracious thing that took away her reason, leaving nothing but a burning lust for him that demanded release.
Her eyes met his, perfectly clear for a fleeting instant, before they rolled up until he feared she’d pass out. But a moment later, her lids snapped up, her lips drew back from her teeth, and her nails drew blood on his arm. “Do it,” she demanded. “Make me come!”
He bared his own teeth in response, but instead of giving her what she wanted, he pulled his cock completely out of her steaming hot pussy, ignored her angry howl of protest, then lifted her bodily and flipped her facedown on the bed.
“What—” Her stunned question was cut off, as he pulled her hips up from the bed and spread her thighs, sliding his hand over the smooth curve of her back to press her breasts against the sheets. She gave a soft cry, and he could feel the heat of embarrassment lighting up her entire body like a small sun. Spreading her legs even wider, he took a moment to admire her pretty pink pussy, lusciously swollen and wet beneath the sweet curve of her ass.
“Mine,” he murmured as he slid two fingers between the soft folds and brought them to his mouth, the taste of her making his already aching cock feel like it would burst from his skin. “Delicious.” It was a low rumble of hunger, the sound of a man who’d met his limit.
“Dragan.” She glanced back, hair covering one eye, the other a mix of demand and pleading. “Please,” she said finally.
He growled as he slammed his cock forward, her liquid need surrounding him in shocking heat as he gripped her hips and plunged himself as deep as he could go, then pulling out and doing it again. He could feel his climax boiling like molten steel behind his balls, but held back, wanting to feel her orgasm pulsing around him in the moment he let go.
She came hard and fast, her entire body squeezing down to the sound of her screams, her inner muscles tightening around his cock until he feared it would snap off. Digging his fingers into her hips, holding her so flush against his groin that he could feel the contractions as her orgasm spread through her body, he climaxed with a shout that was as much triumph as release, his heat filling her while she shook beneath him, her groans matching his as he pushed her flat to the bed, and collapsed bonelessly against her.
MAEVE WOKE THE next morning to the sensation of Dragan’s big hand cupping her breasts. She didn’t think they’d moved all night, other than to roll over so he was no longer on top of her. She was still wrapped in his arms, their bodies so flush together, there wasn’t a whisper of space between them. His arms held her safe, kept her warm now that the sweat of the night before had dried, and the hotel’s air-conditioning had kicked in. Covered by a lone sheet, as was his habit, their sleep had been more a matter of losing consciousness, than true sleep. They’d both been exhausted, emotionally and physically, after their lovemaking the night before. Although what they’d done probably didn’t classify as “lovemaking.” If there was a separate category called “fucking,” they’d certainly done that. And she had no complaints. No complaints at all.
She remembered his angry declaration. Angry, because she’d doubted him, or maybe because she’d doubted herself. He loved her. She felt her chest tighten and her lungs squeeze as the knowledge sank in. He was magnificent, and he loved her. She’d always known she was smart and clever, good at problem solving. She’d taken quiet pleasure in it, too, though she’d never bragged about it. Her grandfather had told her once, when she’d brought home another round of glowing marks, that a lot of people were smart. It was what you did with it that mattered. And she’d tried to live up to that. So she knew was smart, but she’d never considered herself desirable. Not like some of the girls in her class, who spent hours practicing makeup and trying on clothes. She’d never really been interested in that, had preferred her computer and her online friends who shared the things she loved. She hadn’t been completely unlovable. She’d dated, and she’d had her heart broken. Which she now knew—had known even then if she was being honest—wasn’t the end of the world.
But she’d never expected a man like Dragan to fall for her. Even though she’d known from their first night together that she was going to fall for him. Hell, she’d been more than half in love with him when he’d been a damn statue. And the real man had been so much more, utterly irresistible. But now that he loved her back. . . . She closed her eyes and smiled, unbelievably happy. As if all was right with the world. Which, of course, it wasn’t. Not yet.
But once all this mess was done with, and Sotiris was dead, or whatever it took to get rid of a sorcerer permanently, she could imagine the two of them—her and Dragan—buying a piece of land in the Smoky Mountains. They’d build a house—or rather, have one built. She wasn’t that much of a romantic. She sure as hell didn’t know how to build a house, and her skill set didn’t even include a tool box. Her smile broadened into a grin at the image of Dragan in low-slung jeans and a toolbelt, chest bare, sweating in the sun . . .
She gasped in surprise and pleasure both, as his rough fingers scraped over her clit without warning. The bundle of nerves was already super sensitive after the previous night, and now. . . . She groaned and pushed back against Dragan’s bulk, one arm going up and behind to circle his neck as he bent to nibble on her jaw.
“You weren’t paying attention,” he murmured.
“I was dreaming,” she managed to say, as jolts of pleasure rippled from between her thighs.
“Mmm?” He hummed against her neck in a wordless question.
“About you. There. Are you happy?”