By the time Gypsy found herself in the bedroom with him, a trail of clothing—hers as well as his—lay behind them.
Naked, the muscular heat of his body wrapped around her as the taste of his kiss intoxicated, overwhelmed and bound her in ways she was certain she would protest later.
And she loved it.
She should hate the loss of control.
She should fight the hold he was securing within her. She would have, except it was the first time in nine years that she had felt really, fundamentally secure in something other than grief.
“God help me,” he groaned, tearing his lips from hers, spreading nipping kisses, the sharp edges of his canines rasping against her neck as she tilted her head to give him easier access.
Shivers worked over her flesh, icy heat striking at her nerve endings before flames began to lick between her thighs. Her clit ached, throbbing in time to the blood pumping through her veins, racing with a hungry excitement that only increased the erotic flow of her juices and the need. A need that sensitized her flesh, that only increased the hold she hadn’t realized he had on her.
Hunger poured through her.
His hunger for her.
Hers for him.
God, where was the line between his senses and hers, what he felt, what she felt?
She couldn’t find it, everything seemed to merge, to blend seamlessly until the pleasure of it was a racking chaos of sensation that she had no hope of escaping.
Demanding and hot, his lips covered a nipple as he carried her from the floor. Lifting her knees to his hips as his erection became trapped between their bodies drove a whimpering moan from her lips. The heavily veined shaft rubbed against her clit, driving her to distraction, making her crazy now to have him take her, to fill her. To experience the pleasure she could feel emanating from him, into her and from her into him.
Blending sensations, a mix of desperate need that invaded her senses, invaded her body until she was ready to fly apart in pleasure as his tongue rasped her nipple a second before a growl of hunger vibrated against her flesh.
Gypsy gripped his hips tighter, lifting herself to him as the broad shaft of his c**k rubbed against her clit. That wasn’t the pressure she wanted, dammit. She wanted him inside her. She was desperate to drive that broad crest between the plump, slick folds of her pu**y.
“Oh, it won’t be near so easy,” Rule growled. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you off so easily.”
Let her off? He was killing her with need.
Lifting her from him despite her attempts to stay right where she was, he turned her, pushing her to the bed even as she struggled against him, determined to get the upper hand. A surge of dominance suddenly rushed from him, into her, pulling free a dark, powerful need to just submit, to lift her ass to him and let him do whatever the hell he wanted. If he would just make her come.
Her eyes flared open.
Submit?
A second later she found herself on her stomach, his larger body pressing her to the sheets. Gypsy felt her eyes widen, impressions, sensations, a dark demand drawing a shocked gasp from her lips.
“Oh yes, baby, you know exactly what’s coming now, don’t you?” he crooned before nipping her shoulder erotically. “Before you ever consider taking such action again, you’ll damned sure reconsider it first. I’ll ensure it before you ever leave this bed.”
His hand smoothed over the curve of her ass, callused and heated, a rasping caress that sent tingles of awareness flooding her senses, her juices flooding her vagina.
“I didn’t do anything, Rule,” she protested, desperation or was it pure anticipation engulfing her senses.
Anger, a hint of male trepidation, almost fear, slipped into her senses as she felt the wide, bulbous crest of his c**k press between her thighs, parting the slick, swollen folds of her pu**y and pressing to the entrance. Sliding through the heavy layer of dew collected there, slickening, preparing to take her as a rumbled half-animal, half-male sound of pleasure shocked her senses.
And she was helpless against him. God, she’d never felt this helpless, this completely dominated, completely secure and immersed in pleasure as she did now.
“What are you doing to me?” Fisting her fingers in the blanket beneath her, she couldn’t help but lift to him, even as she knew exactly what was coming next.
She knew, because she could sense him, feel him, anticipate each move, yet she was helpless to counter any of it. Hell no, all she could do was lift her ass, shift her hips and try to force him deeper inside her.
His fingers parted the curves of her ass, a callused thumb finding that forbidden, far-too-sensitive entrance hidden between the rounded flesh.
“Claiming you.” Guttural, intent, the tone was a primal growl that sent shivers racing along her spine. “Claiming what’s mine, all the way to your soul.”