Page 127 of Through the Flames
He looked like temptation personified. Golden skin gleaming under the soft hotel light, wavy blond hair falling over those gray eyes screaming All-American perfection. The way he looked at me now, though, was sin, unrepentant and hungry.
I bounced on the mattress as he tossed me onto it, and a surprised, breathy giggle escaped me. He ripped off his shirt, his muscles flexing as if he were carved out of summer heat and hard work.
The clean-cut image was gone in a heartbeat as he tore my dress down the middle with one vicious pull.
“Hunter—”
“Shut up,” he rasped, crawling over me, caging me in with those massive arms as his mouth found my throat.
Teeth dragged along my skin and a nip made me arch my back, but his tongue soothed the pain. His hands framed my jaw, tilting my face up so I couldn’t look anywhere but at him.
“You know what you do to me, Ella?”
“Apparently make you forget how to use buttons,” I gasped, half-laughing, half-wrecked as his mouth crushed mine again, swallowing the sound.
His hips slammed into mine, the thin lace between us soaked, useless, as his hard length ground against me through his pants. Every thrust dragged a strangled moan from my throat, but I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction. Not yet.
“Who owns who here, baby?” he snarled in my ear, hips pounding, relentless.
My nails dug into the sheets, knuckles white as I stared up at him, defiant even as my body trembled. “You wish it was you.”
That earned me a growl so low it vibrated through my bones. “Oh, I don’t need to wish.”
His free hand slid around my throat, fingers curling tight enough to make my pulse roar in my ears. Not choking — just issuing a warning, making a promise. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“Make me.”
The click of his belt unbuckling and the sharp zip of his pants sliding down filled the room, sending a jolt through me. His eyeswent molten as he kicked his pants off, leaving nothing between us.
Then he closed his fist around my thong, ripping the last barrier with a brutal swipe. He thrust into me so deep my back bowed off the mattress, a cry tearing from my lips.
He fucked me like he had something to prove, like he needed the whole goddamn world to know exactlywhoI belonged to.
Each thrust was a brutal, claiming stroke, driving me higher, harder, deeper until I could barely breathe, until the only word I could find was his name falling from my lips in desperate gasps.
The headboard slammed the wall with every snap of his hips, a pounding rhythm accompanied by the sounds of my sloppy pussy taking him. His grip on me was savage, fingers digging so deep I knew I’d wear the bruises for days, and fuck, I wanted every single one.
“Look at me,” he growled as one massive hand caught my jaw, forcing my eyes open when instinct tried to roll them back. “Eyes on me when I fuck you.”
God, I loved the way he took charge of me, how completely in control he was.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped against my ear as his hips pistoned forward again, forcing a cry from my throat. “So pretty, taking my cock like such a good girl. So fucking mine.” His hand slid between us, rough fingers finding my clit and circling with ruthless precision, making me thrash under him, “This is mine too. Say it.”
“You—” I choked on a moan as he thrust harder, pumping so deep I swore I could feel him in my fucking stomach. “You wish it was yours.”
His answering laugh was dark, dangerous. “Oh, fuck that.”
His hand slid up to my throat again — possessive, commanding — as he buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, grinding slowly and deeply enough to make me see stars.
“You’re already mine. Every smart-mouthed word, every pretty little sound …” His teeth grazed my jaw before biting down hard, marking me. “All mine, Ella.”
And then he moved again. Harder now, rougher, ruining me completely. My nails clawed his shoulders, dragging jagged lines down golden skin as I clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring me in this world.
His name spilled from my lips again and again, each one punctuated by the savage slam of his hips.
“Say it,” he growled, his breath hot and ragged against my ear, pounding into me harder, deeper, until the bed frame groaned in protest. “Say who owns this tight little pussy, or I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk straight tomorrow.”
I was a mindless, trembling mess. “Hunter—”
