Page 60 of Snowbound with the Vineyard Owner
The ragged pull of his breath against my mouth.
The full, brutal weight of his body trapping me there, mine now in a way that has nothing to do with words and everything to do with need.
Slowly—deliberately—Dominic shifts his weight.
A rumble vibrates deep in his chest, low and threatening, as he pulls his cock free, the wet, obscene sound of it dragging a broken whimper from my throat.
He ignores it.
Ignores the way I tremble.
Ignores the ruined sounds spilling from my lips.
He only tightens his hold, jerks me higher against him, and stalks toward the fire like a man carrying off a prizehe’s fought a hundred battles to win.
My arms wind instinctively around his neck, helpless to do anything else.
My legs cling tighter to his hips, muscles spasming from the sheer brutal use of them, from the overwhelming stretch of him still throbbing between my thighs.
Dominic doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t ask.
Doesn’t give me a choice.
He takes. He shows me what it means tosurrender…to him.
He drops to his knees in front of the hearth, hauling me down with him, laying me out on the thick fur rug in a rough spill of limbs and tangled hair and sweat-slick skin.
The firelight carves him into something savage—something elemental—as he looms over me. His hair falls wild into his face, his jaw shadowed with dark stubble, his eyes molten with a hunger that looks like it could burn the whole fucking world down.
He strips the ruined flannel from my body in a savage yank, tossing it aside like the thin, useless barrier it always was. His hands roam my naked body without restraint now, rough palms and calloused fingertips branding trails across my flushed skin—up my ribs, across my belly, cupping my breasts in greedy, brutal handfuls that make me arch and whimper beneath him.
He doesn’t pause.
Doesn’t soothe.
He’s starving.
He palms my throat—not squeezing, just holding me there, his thumb stroking a rough, claiming line along the curve of my jaw—and growls low in his throat.
“You belong to me now,” he rasps, so guttural and raw it barely sounds human. “Fucking mine.” Before I can breathe,before I can even process the savage finality of it, Dominic dives down.
His mouth closes over one breast, biting, sucking, devouring me with a ferocity that sends my back arching clean off the floor. His free hand clamps down on my hip, holding me down when I would have writhed away from the overwhelming drag of his tongue, his teeth, the brutal scrape of stubble against hypersensitive skin.
He wrecks me with his mouth.
Devours every inch he can reach, moving from breast to belly to thigh with a rough, single-minded greed that strips me down to raw, trembling nerve endings.
When he finally shoves my legs wider with his shoulders and buries his face between my thighs, I sob—loud and broken and shameless.
Dominic groans like he’s tasting salvation, his hands locking around my hips, dragging me up into his mouth as he feasts on me like he’s starving.
There’s no teasing.
No slow buildup.
He licks and sucks and bites with ruthless, devastating focus, grinding his face against my dripping, aching flesh until pleasure tears through me like a bolt of lightning—violent, unstoppable, shattering me all over again.
