His tongue rasped, just a little bit. Just enough to feel dark and wildly primal. Enough to send a forbidden thrill racing through her mind.
He was good at keeping the upper hand: the stroke of his tongue, the twist of his body, the way he pulled her against him, his hand curving around a soft mound of her rear to tuck her hips against his.
His teeth nipped the lobe of her ear. Lightly. So very lightly. His hands stroked over her, the pad of one finger rubbing against her nipple as she felt the slightest pinch.
A scrape, like his nail against the areola, sent a bolt of heat racing across her nipple to her clit.
She twisted beneath him. She wanted so much more. Heat was building between her thighs, washing through her body. The feel of his c**k pressing against the mound, blazing against her clit, was making her insane.
His hips rolled, thrust, slid from side to side, stroking the hard, heated shaft through the heavy, slick moisture. The folds of her pu**y, swollen and sensitive, parted beneath the pressure. Her clit was in agony, release held just out of reach as she arched beneath him.
She had to see him, watch him.
Opening her eyes, she stared above her. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his shoulders. A rivulet ran down his chest, slow and easy, rolling with lazy sensuality as her lips parted, her head lifting as her tongue peaked out to catch the little droplet of moisture.
Cinnamon and cloves. A rich, dark storm. Midnight and madness. The tastes infused her senses as she felt him move. Her thighs were parted farther, a hesitation as he rolled a condom over the hard length of his cock. There was something wrong with that. She knew she should protest it, but before she could form the words, before she could remember why, he was pressing inside her.
Fiery, intense, pleasure-pain washed through her. The stretching of delicate, tender muscles, the stroke of his thick, hard flesh easing inside her. It was exquisite. It was like burning alive inside a fiery storm that she couldn't control or escape.
For the first time, he wasn't behind her as he gave her pleasure. He was staring down at her, his silver eyes darkening, turning into a storm of mercury, a heated conflagration that matched the wildfire surging through her senses now.
Bit by bit, one agonizing inch at a time, his hips rolled, pressed and worked the hardened flesh deeper inside her.
She had to look. To watch. Staring between her thighs, she could see the latex-sheathed erection glistening from the dampness that he was pushing through. It was broad, dark, parting the folds of her flesh and disappearing inside her.
He was taking her.
Her head flung back as he pushed in deeper, a hard, demanding thrust followed by a groan of pleasure as she arched beneath him and the length of his c**k disappeared fully inside her.
Heat, ecstasy, the feeling of complete surrender, total freedom, infused her. She felt as though she were flying, as though they were locked in a flight of complete rapture, racing toward the sun.
Light and color exploded behind her closed eyes as Jonas began to move. He f**ked her as though each stroke were to be relished, remembered, forever imprinted in both their minds.
His hips thrust, rolled, shifted from side to side, causing his erection to stretch her farther, to reveal previously hidden nerve endings and erogenous zones in their climb to release.
She couldn't breathe. She was gasping for air, certain she was going to pass out. The pleasure was so intense, hunger so deep and strong inside her, she couldn't get enough. She would never get enough. She would always need more.
No wonder his lovers were so hard to get rid of in the past, she thought hazily. This was why. Because he f**ked like a dream, like a dark fantasy come to life to possess her very soul with no more than this. This possession.
Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his waist and fought to hold on to him as the pleasure began to spiral out of control.
Control was lost. Above her, Jonas's thrusts were becoming harder, faster. She could hear the growls coming from his chest, animalistic, feral, as his c**k plunged inside her, f**king her with a furious pace as she began to tighten beneath him.
Sensations raced through her system, poured through her bloodstream. The brush of the air against her flesh was exquisite; the feel of his body thrusting inside hers was rapture.
Her hips lifted, her head arched back into the blankets and the cry that spilled from her lips was barely muffled by the hard, calloused palm that suddenly clamped over her lips.
Rachel exploded. Her orgasm tore through her mind and body, reaching clear to her soul as she pierced the blazing, white-hot center of fire awaiting her.
She was dying in his arms. She lost her breath, her will, the very heart of who and what she was, as ecstasy climbed inside her, exploding over and over again, pulsing in fiery bursts through her body.
Above her, Jonas thrust in one last time, hard, deep, holding still as she felt his erection throb and pound with such fierce motions that a part of her wondered if he felt pleasure or pain from his own release.
That part was distant though, shielded by light and color, by sensations that never seemed willing to stop but vibrated inside her again and again.
She couldn't stop coming. Each time he moved, each time his c**k throbbed, another explosion detonated, another pulse of pleasure tore through her.
Until finally, he was jerking free of her, still hard, his breathing still rough as he collapsed beside her and pulled her gently into his arms.