He smiled against her folds.
“What? Oh, God…” A quiver racked her. “Wh-what?”
“Ask me, Ferguson. I want you tae ask me.”
“Please,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.
“Please, what? Give me the words.”
She clenched around his fingers, telling him she liked the way he played.
“Please, let me come.”
He kissed her curls, then circled her with the tip of his tongue. “Should I give you permission?”
“I’m being good.”
“Aye, you are, baby. So fucking good.”
“Please,” she begged, so tense she began to tremble.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured, applying more pressure.
Her hips rolled. She keened his name.
“Come for me, Fergie.”
She obeyed, exploding around him.
Sucking her clit hard, he moved his fingers. A slick retreat, and a hard thrust. He finger-fucked her over the edge, listening to her go: each hitching breath, all her hoarse whimpers as her core clenched, and he stood, lifted her off the footboard, planted her back in the bed, and followed her down. He landed on her, hips between her thighs. Still coming, she threw her head back and pressed her hips up. Mouth open, chin tipped up, she curled her legs around him and pulled him in tight, lost in the pleasure he gave her.
Wrapping his hand around her raised knee, he spread her wider. Notched tight to her entrance, he planted one forearm on the bed and growled her name. Her lashes fluttered a second before she tipped her chin down and opened her eyes.
Green eyes full of pleasure and shock. Lips parted on his name. His world settled, heart beating hard, soul sighing in bliss as he cupped her face.
“Kruger?”
“I’ll give you what you need,” he murmured, pressing forward. “Fuck you hard.”
“Cowboy—”
He took her in a single stroke, driving so deep he touched her womb. Hot. tight. Her, him…a perfect fucking fit. What he needed, but had never known he wanted. Connection and chemistry. Primal instinct soothed by acceptance. Sex combined with fun. Someone that fit him in all ways. A female to call his own. More than a dream come true, Ferguson surpassed all expectations. She was everything. His end-all and be-all, every star in his stormy sky.
Gaze locked on hers, rooted deep, he circled his hips.
“Yesss, Kruger.” Euphoria sharpened her features. Her limbs tightened around him. “Beautiful. You feel beautiful.”
“Goddess,” he groaned, surrounded by her heat, overcome by delight.
Pure bliss, every inch of her.
Another tremor knifed through her.
He kissed her, caressed her, worshiped her as he started to ride. With another whispered “yes,” she raised her knees, pulling him deeper. He hammered into her, giving her what she needed, wanted, had asked him for—a hard, fast, furious fucking.
Drilling deep. Drawing out. Slamming back in, driving her toward another peak, watching her reach it. She throbbed around him. Her expression, the feel of her, dragged him over. Pleasure fisted his balls, then blasted up his spine. Astonishment bit. Gratitude surfaced. Ecstasy stripped him bare, setting his heart in Ferguson’s hands, forcing a plea from his throat, exposing him completely as he buried his face in her throat and called her name.
12
On her hands and knees in the middle of the bed, Ferguson thrust back as Kruger powered in, taking her from behind with mind-fuzzing strokes, doing what he’d promised, loving her slow after fucking her hard. The first time he’d taken her blew her mind. The second round nearly killed her. The third was destroying her, pushing her body to the limit while wreaking havoc with her heart.
All part of his plan.
He wanted to love her into oblivion, capture her completely, enslave her with sex while he pummeled her with pleasure. A skilled lover, devoted to the cause, he melded mind and emotion, making her crave him more as he immersed her in delight.
Soft music playing on the speaker across the room. The rough, guttural instructions he murmured and expected her to follow. His long-limbed, hard, strong body holding her in place.
So.
Effing.
Effective.
Every bit delicious as he made her ride the edge.
Ferguson knew his game, but couldn’t locate an ounce of outrage. No objections here. She wanted him just as much as he did her, adored the way he touched her, reveled in his need for her and the fact he paid attention. To everything. What made her breath hitch, the things that made her shiver, buck, and moan. Learning what she liked and what she didn’t. Discovering all her sensitive spots, devastating her with stroke after lazy stroke.
Gripping her hips, Kruger drove deep. Again and again. Over and over. Perfect, rolling ravishment as his hands began to roam.
Tipping her hips, she begged for more without words. His paced stayed steady. A protest caught in the rasp of each breath, abrading the back of her throat. With a murmur, Kruger warned her to stay still, to be a “good girl,” his good girl, and take him the way he wanted to give it to her.
She moaned into a pillow.
Calloused fingertips swept over her back, along her sides, up her front, from belly to collarbone. He cupped her breasts, wrapping her up, communicating something important. Stubble prickled her skin as he slid her hair out of his way. She felt his teeth then, skimming the top of her shoulder, nipping the side of her neck, sending tingles across her nape. Harsh breaths in her ear. Big hands on her body. Muscled chest pressed to her back. The hot, hard length of him deep inside her.
Heaven.
So unbelievably beautiful.
“You feel it, Fergie?”
Her heart thumped hard behind her breastbone. Words piled up on the tip of her tongue.
“You understand?”
“Yes.”
“What am I saying?” he asked, demolishing her with a harder stroke.
Desperation took hold. “Kruger.”
“Tell me, lass. What am I saying?”
“Mine,” she rasped. “Mine.”
“Aye, fazleima. Every inch of you…mine. Precious. You’re precious. Sexy as fuck. Smart as hell. Bloody beautiful,” he growled. “Love you slow. Fuck you hard. Crack you wide open. Make sure the message gets in, that you believe me.”
“I”—her breath hitched—“believe you.”
“Nay, you donnae. Not yet, but you will.”
“Cowboy—”
“I donnae know what that areshole did tae you. I do feel the pain you carry. Gonna deal with that too.” After retreating until she only held the tip of him, Kruger surged back in, driving her higher without upping the pace. “Make you believe.”
Hands fisted in the blankets, she whimpered into the sheets.
“What are you tae me?”
Quivering, undone by him, she shook her head.
“What are you?”
“Precious,” she whispered, trying to believe, but not knowing how.
No one had ever found her precious. Or called her sexy as fuck. Smart as hell she accepted without difficulty. She’d always gotten great grades, received praise for the quickness of her mind from others all her life. What Kruger wanted her to accept was altogether different. An aspect of herself that had been damaged long ago. She’d buried it—her sexuality, the need for physical closeness, the burn for acceptance, her deep desire to give and receive pleasure. All without realizing it.