She wished they could be like this forever.
"Come in me," she groaned, as she pulled at his shoulders.
John lifted his head and moved up her body, his arousal nudging against her inner thighs, getting closer.
She kissed him hard, grinding her mouth against his as she shoved her hand down between them and guided him where she needed him--
His massive body torqued at the contact as she bit out, "Oh, God . . ."
The blunt head of him parted her and he slid in nice and slow, filling her, stretching her. She arched so he could go all the way in and shifted her palms down his smooth back to the dip at the end of his spine . . . and even lower so that she could sink her nails into his ass.
His muscles bunched and released under her hands as he started to pump, and her head rocked back and forth against the mat as he pushed in and pulled out, pushed in and pulled out. He was heavy as a car on top of her, and his body had a lot of hard edges--and what do you know, she was so okay with all of that: She had enough curves to accommodate where he needed space, and she was so close to coming again that her lungs were burning for air anyway.
Linking her ankles behind the backs of his thighs, she moved with him until their bodies smacked and their breath exploded, and then John pushed his torso up and drove his fists into the mat on either side of her ribs, bracing the weight of his chest on the carved muscles of his arms--so he could pound harder.
His face was an erotic mask of the features she had seen so often, his lips drawn back off his long, white fangs, his brows down tight, his eyes blazing, his jaw clenched so hard that his cheeks had hollows in them. With every thrust, his pecs and his abdominals popped, the sweat on his skin gleaming in the dim light. The sight of him was the chaser to what he felt like deep in her, the sucker punch that came on the heels of the body shot, knocking her out completely.
"Take my vein," she growled at him. "Take it--now."
As she ricocheted off into another orgasm, he came to her throat in a lunge, his bite slicing into her neck as his own release jerked into her.
Once he started to come, he couldn't stop and she didn't want him to. He kept moving and drinking and shuddering into her, the rolling multiples that racked him saturating her sex as he fed and took her hard.
But it was what she wanted.
When he finally stilled, he didn't so much stop as collapse on her. Running her hands up his shoulders, she held him as he drew lazy laps over his puncture marks.
Sometimes you had to sandblast in order to clean something properly. Delicate little circles with a sponge or a cloth just couldn't get the dirt and grime out well enough. And what they'd just done was a sandblast and a half--and, given the way he was still hard, she knew that there was more to come.
Literally.
John lifted his head and looked down at her. His eyes were worried and he was careful as he brushed at her hair.
She smiled. "Nah, I'm fine. I'm more than fine."
A sly grin bloomed on his handsome face as he mouthed, Ain't that the truth.
"Hold up there, big man. You think you can make me blush like I'm some girl? Pulling that sweet talk?" As he nodded, she rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know I'm not the kind of female who goes all dizzy, popping a stiletto off the floor just because some guy kisses her deep."
John was all male as he cocked a brow. And damn it if she didn't feel a tingle in her cheeks.
"Listen, John Matthew." She took his chin in her hand. "You're not turning me into one of those females who goes gaga over her lover. Not happening. I'm not hardwired for that."
Her voice was stern and she meant every word--except the instant he rolled his hips and that huge arousal pushed into her, she purred.
Purred.
The sound was utterly foreign and she'd have sucked it back down her throat if she could have. Instead, she just let out another of those decidedly non-tough-guy moans.
John bowed his head to her breast and started suckling on her as he somehow managed to keep thrusting in slow, even penetrations.
Swept away, her hands found his hair again, spearing through the thick softness. "Oh, John . . ."
And then he stopped dead, lifted his lips from her nipple, and smiled so wide it was a wonder he didn't bust off his front teeth.
His expression was one of total and complete gotcha.
"You are a bastard," she said on a laugh.
He nodded. And pressed into her with his full length again.
It was perfect that he was giving her shit and showing her a little of who was boss. Just perfect. Somehow, it made her respect him even more--but then, she'd always loved strength in all its forms. Even the teasing kind.
"I'm not surrendering, you know."
He pursed his lips and shook his head, all oh, no, of course not.
And then he started to pull out of her. As she growled low in her throat, she sank her nails into his ass. "Where do you think you're going?"