Page 145 of The Holiday Heartbreaker

At least, she always had when she was in control of it.

But here, she wasn’t.

Rather than frightening her, it thrilled her.

She had never wanted the control.

When he looked at her, he licked his lips, and the eroticism of the moment overtook everything. Her good sense, if she had any. She wasn’t sure that she did.

Because here she was, laid out naked in bed in front of a stranger like she was a snack.

And loving it.

She arched her back, up off the bed, her hips bowing up to him, in anticipation.

“You’ll get it,” he said. “Be patient.”

He picked up the condom box and opened it. It was notable to her that it hadn’t been opened yet. He took a packet out, separated it from the strip and tore it open. He rolled the latex over his length, and gave himself a couple of slow, firm strokes for good measure. He was teasing her.

He joined her on the bed, lifting her thigh up and draping it over his hip as he positioned himself at the entrance to her body. She forgot to be afraid.

He thrust into her in one smooth movement, and she cried out in pain and pleasure. She was blinded by both, the exquisite tearing sensation vibrating through her, her jaw, her teeth. Everywhere. All the way down to her toes. She was consumed with the push and pull of it. Too full and not full enough. Overstimulated, and yet how could it ever be enough. He looked at her, his blue eyes a little bit wild. More than a little bit feral.

“Good,” she said. “So good.”

He growled, gripping her chin and holding her face steady, pressing his forehead against hers as he began to thrust inside, hard and fast. He gave no quarter. He had realized her inexperience, but he hadn’t backed down. Because he knew. And it was that that made her want to fly off the bed in a million pieces. Exhilarated.

He understood.

She’d never been able to share this with anyone. She didn’t have words for it. She had been too embarrassed. She’d never been close enough to anyone.

But he knew. He wasn’t a stranger, not now.

He knew her better than she knew herself.

It hurt, but she liked it. It was too much, but she wanted it.

He wasn’t treating her like she was fragile.

Not like she was innocent, like she needed to be talked down to.

He saw her.

Stroke after stroke, he filled her, pleasure ramping up inside of her again.

He was so big and thick and glorious.

She turned her neck, and he bit her.

The clamp of his teeth down on her sensitive skin pushed her over the edge. She cried out, her internal muscles pulsing around him, drawing him deeper.

It was a cataclysm inside of her. A whole tsunami of need. Like that wave on his hip had come up to eclipse them both.

And then he followed, a low growl signaling his release, as his thrusts became fractured, hard and furious before he let out one last long slow roar.

He pulsed deep within her, and aftershocks spread throughout her body.

“You really are a bad girl,” he said.

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