Heir to a Desert Legacy - By Maisey Yates Page 0,54

harsh pants.

“Tease,” he ground out.

“I am, I guess. I hadn’t realized.” She leaned in and ran her tongue along the line of his jaw, nipping his chin.

“Chloe, please,” he said. There was no undertone of begging in his words. They were harsh, raw, desperate. And even in her inexperience, she knew exactly what he wanted.

She only hoped she knew how to give it, that she was ready to give it.

She pressed her body against his, the hard ridge of his arousal coming into contact with her clitoris. She hissed out a breath as sparks shot through her.

The theory held. Arousal, need, made her brave.

He was big, but she’d given birth, so this was hardly the place for virginal nerves of that nature. It was more the fear of the unknown, of what might happen. How it would change things.

But nothing in her world was the same as it had been a year ago. Nothing felt the same as it had even two months ago.

One more change. One more new thing.

But at least this one was her decision. At least it was something she wanted. So many things in life had simply happened to her, but not this. She was choosing this. She wanted this. She wanted Sayid.

“I want you,” she said, speaking it, making it real. This was for her. She wanted him, and she would have him. Him, and not fear. Pleasure, and not images of violence and pain. The touch of another human being, closeness. Desire. She could have it, when she’d never before let herself believe that she could.

“Take me.”

She sucked in a breath and reached behind her back, shifting her hips and guiding his erection into her body. She was wet, and it eased the way in as he filled her, stretched her. She winced, a couple of tender places making themselves felt. He flexed his hips, burying himself inside of her completely. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh, her breath stalled out as she tried to acclimate to the invasion on her body, as she tried to process the pleasure, pain and utter feeling of possession.

It took a moment, but the pain faded, leaving a feeling of fullness, intense, wonderful fullness behind.

“Oh...yes,” she breathed. “This is good.”

He flexed his hips, his pelvis pressing against her clitoris, sending another shower of pleasure through her. She moved against him, finding that perfect point of contact again, giving herself another dose of that addicting sensation.

“Lift your hips up,” he said.

The instruction was appreciated. She obeyed, his command, the friction of his shaft sliding out of her heightening her pleasure, the motion pushing the sensitive bundle of nerves against his body when she came back down.

She repeated the move again and again, finding a rhythm that tightened the coil of need that rested low in her stomach to an unbearable level. Until she was certain it would break her. Until she was sure she couldn’t endure it anymore.

She quickened her pace, urgency, desperation, pushing toward an end that was nothing more than a shapeless void in her mind. She didn’t know what she was chasing, only that she needed it more than she needed her next breath.

And then the tension shattered, tiny shards of pleasure bursting through her. She raked her nails down his chest, over his abs, as her release dug into her, holding her captive, making it impossible to think or breathe, to do anything but simply ride the wave as it broke over her, to give herself over utterly, completely to the physical world. There was no reason here, no logic, no cold buffer of fact and science to make her an observer.

Then he thrust his hips hard, a harsh sound escaping his lips, his chest muscles contracting beneath her hands as his own orgasm took him over. She bent and took his mouth, catching every last sound of release on her tongue. And it consumed her. Utterly. Completely. It was passion, in its most raw, undiluted form.

And she didn’t fear it. Instead, she let it take her under.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SAYID WORKED AT CATCHING his breath. He couldn’t. He was certain his heart was about to pound out of his chest. His wrists were still bound, the muscles in his chest, back and shoulders aching now from being tied so tightly for so long.

He had been bound before. Chained to a wall and beaten. Unable to move while knowing that unendurable pain was about to touch him. Bound up inside of himself, unable