“Yes. Everything I am,” she hissed. “Please, Remy. Please.”
He slammed into her hard, ripping through her innocence, driving through tight, never-used muscles like a battering ram, invading her body with his thick, hard, hot shaft. Lightning zigzagged through her body, forks of burning fire. His hands were rough on her hips, holding her pinned down so he could thrust deep and hard over and over, setting a ferocious pace.
There was no time to catch her breath. No time to register pain before pleasure swamped her. Her body gripped his fiercely, pulsing and gushing, holding on tightly. Her sheath felt far too small. He was too large, stretching her mercilessly, but that only added to the tortuous pleasure. Her body grew tighter. More tense. The fire kept building higher and higher. There was no release. No way to stop.
He slammed into her over and over, rocking her with every brutal thrust. His fingers dug into flesh and he began jerking her into him each time he surged forward, sending whips of lightning dancing through her body, flicking her, flogging her with heat and fire. She opened her mouth to scream, to beg, but he just kept going, his eyes twin points of intensity, his face a mask of carved sensuality.
The bed rocked beneath them, shook and seemed alive. An ominous crack signaled a board beneath them snapping but he didn’t stop. He drove between her thighs like a madman possessed, pummeling her with such force and so deep she was afraid he would drive through her. Still, she didn’t want him to stop. Fear snaked through her that she wouldn’t survive the intensity of their sexual heat, but that didn’t matter either. The only thing that mattered to her was that living jackhammer pounding into her with such erotic fury.
She heard her own voice begging, but the roaring in her ears didn’t allow interpretation. She just needed. She simply burned. She wanted to burn up with him. She felt him swelling, the friction impossibly increasing until she was afraid actual flames would burst from her. Still, that didn’t matter to her, only that he find a way to make the terrible pressure, the never-ending need stop for just a moment.
Tension wound tighter as the frenzy of lust grew between them. His face was a mask of absolute resolve. He slammed into her again and again, a driving rhythm of furious, relentless passion. She heard her voice building in time with the rising pressure in her body. A raging inferno began slow, moving through her deceptively, and then picking up speed to spread fast, to engulf every part of her body.
She screamed. Went rigid. Felt his cock pulsing, swelling. All the while her body gripped his in a terrible stranglehold, the friction burning hotter than ever. She felt him stiffen. Gather himself. He thrust hard, driving deep and the heated spray of seed soaked her tender walls.
She fought to find her breath while her body rippled with life, squeezing and milking him, insisting she get every last drop. Moistening dry lips, she forced her lashes to stay up so she could look at his face. Beads of sweat clung to his hair and she felt a few of her own trickling down the side of her face and more between her breasts.
She couldn’t move. Her body felt limp, a rag doll, no more. She could barely look at him. She’d been insane. In the thralls of some madness. She had never acted that way in her life and her behavior terrified her. Was she like Bodrie after all?
Remy leaned over her and brushed kisses to the corner of her eyes, his lips sipping as if tasting tears. She wasn’t crying. She wouldn’t allow herself to be such a baby, not when her body still pulsed around Remy’s and blood, seed and cream from her own body were trickling down her thighs.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, the tip of her breast and with a soft groan, slipped from her body and rolled over. The action caused her body to ripple and heat more, like a terrible itch that just refused to go away. She pressed her lips together tightly and put her arm over her eyes. She was horrible. Insatiable. What the hell was wrong with her?
She’d had wild, crazy very rough sex. Her body was sore. Every muscle hurt, but deep inside, she could already feel the hunger growing. Maybe she had a sex addiction, but knowing it and stopping it were two different things. The fire between her legs grew. The tension gathered until it was no small itch, but a craving she wasn’t going to be able to resist. She had to get away from Remy.
Bijou rolled off the bed and landed on her hands and knees, desperate to escape herself.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Remy demanded, a snarl in his voice.
She looked over her shoulder at him. Bijou knew she shouldn’t have been afraid. He was rough, but every time he touched her, he made certain she felt pleasure. She was too sensitive, her body on fire. It didn’t make any sense to her that she hadn’t felt sated. In a way she found it terrifying. She was as afraid of herself as she was of him.
Remy’s eyes went totally feral. He reminded her of a great jungle cat about to devour his prey. A single sound escaped, a small note of confusion, or worse, excitement, and she turned away from, him, scrambling across the floor on all fours.
She tried to crawl away, her body still shuddering with pleasure, hungry for more, but afraid and confused by her own desperate needs. Near tears, Bijou couldn’t imagine how she’d gone from being frigid with no physical interest in a man to such an insatiable, sensual creature who kept enticing and inciting Remy to more.
He growled a warning and was on her with the speed of a cat, catching her from behind and dragging her hips back into him. His heavy erection pressed against her slick body from behind. Remy wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her still while he thrust into her, filling her. She was so slick with the mixture of their sex, and she should have been easy to enter, but she wasn’t, her body fighting the invasion and giving way reluctantly. That stretching sensation had a bite to it, but she didn’t care. The small edge of pain only heightened the pleasure for her, humiliating her more. What was wrong with her?
He licked along her back, lapping at the tiny beads of sweat. His breath was hot as he alternated between teeth and tongue, making his way up her spine to the back of her neck. He ceased moving, holding her still, his body locked with hers. She pushed and bucked, but he refused to move, holding her there. Waiting.
Her heart began to pound again. Her breasts swayed. Her hair hung in damp tangles around her face, sweeping the floor. His shaft swelled, pushed deep and spread her tight sheath muscles even more when it didn’t seem possible.
Hot breath blasted her. For a moment she swore she felt the slide of fur along her shoulder and then teeth drove deep, long, razor-sharp canines, in a holding bite. She cried out and thrashed beneath him, but he refused to let go. Deep inside, that wild, feral other rose until she felt an itch running like waves under her skin and fire burned between her thighs. She dropped her head, panting away the pain, accepting of Remy and his crazy, rough sex. Whatever was inside of her embraced him. Needed him. Wanted him. And was every bit as savage as he was.
Slowly the teeth slipped from her skin and his tongue lapped at the wounds. He began to move, sending streaks of fire racing over her body, burning through her veins and settling into her battered sheath. She never wanted him to stop. The sensations were stronger than ever, pleasure rushing over her while he slammed into her with furious intent. She couldn’t stop the all-encompassing orgasm, the way it took her belly and breasts and rode down to her thighs.
Remy caught her by the hair and jerked her head back, adding a myriad of sensations burning through her body, increasing the strength of her muscles contracting around his shaft. Still he didn’t stop and neither did her orgasm. Her body shuddered and pulsed in frenzied insanity. She heard herself scream as another orgasm ripped through her. Remy emptied himself into her as she pulsed around him.
Too weak to hold herself up, Bijou would have collapsed on the floor if Remy hadn’t held on to her.
“What in the world did you do to me?” she whispered. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothin’ is wrong with you,” Remy assured, kissing her spine.
She made a derisive sound in her throat. There was something very much wrong with her, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. “I can’t move. I really can’t. I’m so exhausted I think I’ll sleep here. Just leave me.”
Remy slipped out of her. She didn’t turn around, but let herself collapse right there on the floor. She closed her eyes and heard him move. The bed creaked and groaned as if a heavy weight had landed on it. She heard ripping as if something tore apart the heavy drapes or the walls, but honestly, she wasn’t about to lift her head, even if she could. It felt good to just lie there and listen to her heart beating semi-normally.
The terrible thunder was gone, and for the moment, she felt sated, the burning gone between her legs. Terrified the sensation would start again, she kept her eyes closed tight so she couldn’t see Remy, afraid he was the trigger. She hoped she’d just go to sleep and wake up to find the entire episode was only one of her erotic dreams about him. True, she’d never quite dreamt so vividly or imagined in any way that sex with Remy would be so perfect or brutal, but in her own right she was an artist and entitled to a vivid imagination.