The door swings inward.
There he is.
I look into his crystalline blue eyes for one long moment. Finally, he extends his hand to grasp mine, and he pulls me inside the entryway, closing the door behind us. He turns to face me.
I cannot remain silent and still.
My need, my overflowing lust boils over.
No, I cannot remain silent and still another second.
Throwing myself at him, I wrap my arms around his neck. Our lips lock together like we’re on a plane plummeting toward the ocean and have only moments left to live, and I plunge my tongue deeply into his mouth, I bite at his lip. He responds to me in kind like he can’t control his animalistic urge. Without realizing it, I wrap both my legs around his waist, hiking my skirt up around my hips. His arms flex against me, pressing me even tighter into his hard body. We fit together. Perfectly.
He lets out a low groan and puts one hand to the back of my head, taking control of the kiss, forcing his tongue into my mouth to taste and devour, and then he’s moving us, still hooked together, through the apartment. Moments later, we’re in his bedroom. He tips us both onto the bed, crawling on and over me, his arms on either side of me as he dives in for another kiss that draws a whimper from me.
I need him and he knows it.
He leaps off the bed and strips off his clothes. I can’t help but gasp at the perfection that is Christian Pierce in the nude—ripped abs, muscular arms, and a cock so thick and long, already hard and pulsing, that for the briefest moment, I wonder if it will fit inside. He’s beautiful.
Then he’s back on the bed, kissing me hard and tearing at my clothes. Soon they’re tossed in a pile on the floor next to his, and I’m splayed out before him, my arms and legs thrown wide.
I can’t think of anything to say, so instead I beg, “Please.”
The word rings like a bell in the silence between us, and the appearance of a half-smile that lights me aflame spreads across Christian’s face.
He leans down over me, balancing himself above me on his elbows, and nips at my earlobe. “Please what?”
“Please, you have to fuck me.”
“I have to fuck you?” His voice is quiet and deep and every word out of his mouth creates an inferno in me that can only be quenched by one thing.
I turn and look him directly in the eye. “I know you do.”
“Hmmm,” he says, leaning to the side, tracing one finger down the side of my neck, over my collarbone, and down to my nipple, which he circles as if he has all the time in the world, and then he rolls it between his fingers. I moan softly at the spikes of pleasure shooting straight down my spine to my aching wet pussy. “You might be right about that.”
“I am right about that,” I pant.
He plants kisses on the side of my neck, his hot breath brushing against my skin. “You have quite the attitude, Quinn Campbell. I wonder if I can tame it.”
My hips roll and writhe underneath him as my desperation grows, and at the words “tame it” a new gush of wetness soaks the inside of my thighs. Yes. Yes. I want to be tamed by him, taken by him, claimed as his.
“There’s only one way to find out,” I say, trying my damnedest to raise my hips up to make contact.
Something in my voice gets under his skin, strips him of his remaining self-control, and the next instant his hand is under my jaw, gripping my neck with a gentle force as he covers my mouth with his, our lips crushed together. With the other hand he spreads me wider, then positions the head of his cock at my slick opening.
Then, with his free hand—Jesus, how does he know the secret fantasies I’ve never told anyone?—he catches both of my hands and pins them above my head.
“You don’t know it,” he says, flicking his tongue against my jawline, “but you’re already mine.”
Then he slams his hardness into me, filling me to the hilt, sending me crashing down in an explosion of pleasure that goes on and on and on.
Chapter Eighteen
Christian
Quinn is insatiable, wild, begging for me to bring her under control even as she sasses me, fights me, tries to drive me goddamn crazy.
It works.
I fuck her hard and fast, and she spreads herself open for me, taking every last inch of my cock, crying out, moaning. She cannot get enough of me.
The feeling is mutual.
We’re not finished after the first round. She spends ten minutes with her head buried in my shoulder and then I feel her hips rock against mine once again.
She wants more.
I’m not going to deny her what she wants.
I want it, too. I need it.
With one movement, I have her on her hands and knees and I’m inside her again, fucking her slowly this time, letting her feel every powerful stroke, making her body shudder underneath me as she waits for me to plow all the way inside. As I pull back, her pussy clenches around my cock, trying to keep me buried deep inside, and it feels so fucking good that the edges of my vision go black.