Liza fought to ride the wave of muscle-shuddering sensual tension suddenly flooding her senses.
To make it last.
To make it crest to the orgasm that seemed so close, yet remained just out of reach.
The eroticism of having him cover her from behind, the heated length of his body holding her to the mat, his hands shackling her wrists, had her arching her rear, pressing the ridge of his c**k tighter against her pu**y as her thighs spread further.
She swore she was going to come from pure excitement. The extreme dominance and sexual awareness was a flood of knowledge so intense it was almost a physical caress.
Ecstatic pleasure flooded her body.
It tore through her.
It raced across her nerve endings, tightening her clit and her pu**y to painful awareness.
She shouldn’t feel like this.
No matter the rumors she’d heard of mating heat. No matter what her own instincts were telling her.
She shouldn’t be feeling this.
This wasn’t just sexual. It wasn’t just pleasure. It wasn’t just a need to be f**ked into pure exhaustion, and God knew, that need was uppermost in her mind. It was quickly reaching a critical point and wiping her mind of any other instinct.
It was so much more than an intense need for release.
More than a need to be filled.
It exceeded the need to feel flesh against flesh, his c**k buried inside her, or the detonation of an orgasm she knew would leave her flying into pure rapture.
It was more than she had ever imagined she could have because mixed with the extreme sensations and wave upon wave of pleasure was the instinctive knowledge that it was also a need born of emotion.
Burning in the very depths of her soul was the knowledge that the heart she’d managed to keep locked against all pain had been breached.
Stygian had somehow found a way to sneak in and take it over.
He filled it, possessed it. He controlled it effortlessly and she had no idea how he had managed to do it.
Fighting to make sense of it, to pull herself back from the never-ending rush of sensations to repair the breach, she was shocked at the sudden feel and sound of rending cloth.
Her top was torn from her, the light, ultrasoft cotton pulled easily from her body, only to be tossed carelessly aside. The feel of his broad, naked chest and stomach coming over her now bare back dragged a hoarse cry from her throat.
“Please,” she cried out again, shuddering from the sensations spinning out of control inside her.
“Oh, mate, I have every intention of pleasing you,” he rasped, his lips at her ear, caressing the sensitive shell. “Over and over again. Until neither of us can move. Until even the need for air is forgotten.”
The hand wrapped around the curve of her breast slid free. Panting for much-needed air, she was more than aware of him working loose his jeans and pushing at the material as he lifted her just enough to push the denim down his thighs.
It took only seconds—breathless, destructive seconds—to remove the pants he wore.
Still, he didn’t return to her. He didn’t cover her and begin pushing inside her as she needed.
“Why did you do this to me?” She couldn’t hold back the cry any more than she could hold back the rush of emotionally destructive feelings rising inside her.
“What did I do to you, baby?” Naked now, covering her, the engorged crest of his c**k barely pressing against the slick folds of her pu**y, he whispered the question as his lips stroked over her shoulder.
With his chin, he brushed back her hair as it fell over her shoulder, his lips returning to the overly sensitive flesh as one hand pushed beneath her hips, found the curls at the top of her pu**y, then pushed beyond.
Liza jerked, shuddering at the waves of pleasure washing through her as his fingers found the swollen heat of her clit.