Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,73

him off in the car, I swallowed every drop.”

His agonized roar rattles the walls, and his fist slams against floor beside my head. Arched over me, he holds himself up, his arms shaking with the force of his rage.

Then breath by breath, he reels it in.

Stillness settles through his muscles, and his eyes soften into molten blue glass.

My heart stops and restarts, galloping into a frenzied tempo. He’s so damn gorgeous. So potently masculine and intimidating I sink my teeth into my lip to stifle my plea to be fucked.

Don’t give in. Don’t give in.

I swing my fists and kick out a leg, hitting air. But my traitorous body wants, wants, wants. My pussy throbs and heats as he wedges his hips between my thighs and swats away my punching strikes.

“Say it, Danni.” His hooded gaze dips, taking in the length of my body, the spread of my legs, the heave of my chest, and the pulse in my throat. It’s a slow-burning perusal, full of sin and venom and promise. “Tell me no, if you don’t want this.”

The room fades away, and my brain malfunctions. Everything narrows to the rugged angles of his face and the intensity sharpening his cheekbones. For a man who can’t be controlled, he’s completely possessed by the grip of his desire.

I’m right there with him, consumed by the same suffocating fire. There’s only one way to quench this need, and it isn’t the word no.

I try to say it anyway, attempt to make my lips form the sane response, but that’s not what tumbles out. “I need you.”

“You have no idea how long I wanted to hear that.” He reaches for his fly, his other hand tangling in my hair and angling my head back to hold my gaze. “I love you so damn much.”

The sound of his zipper echoes in my ears, and I whimper.

Why can’t I fight this? I can’t stop my hands from reaching between us, fumbling over his in my urgency to pull him out.

He fits his cock at my entrance and looks me in the eyes. A swallow sticks in the back of my throat, and I grip his shoulders, trembling, panting. Please.

He thrusts, and we groan together, trembling as one in our relief. Burying himself as deeply as possible, he stretches me, fills me up, and makes me burn.

Then he fucks me, grunting like a feral caveman and hissing past clenched teeth. He’s a hurricane of fury and aggression, slamming his cock rapidly, violently, and punishing my mouth with deep bruising kisses.

God help me, I forgot what this feels like, the exquisite sensation of being taken, dominated, and fucked into mindless oblivion. It’s been three years. Three of the longest years of my life, and what a way to break the fast.

In that stunned moment, my mind blocks out how I got here, too absorbed by the cock stroking inside me, the tongue in my mouth, and the hands sweeping over my body. We’re longing and lust, sweat and muscle, skin on skin, two beasts in a mating dance, panting, clawing at clothes, and stabbing nails into flesh.

I rip open his shirt, pinging buttons across the floor. With a labored grunt, he tears it off his arms and flings it. There’s an undershirt beneath, baring bulges of biceps and pumped veins over muscle. I want to see more of him, but he attacks my dress, pounds his hips, and tears my strapless bodice down the center.

Breathing heavily and gnashing his teeth, he ravages my breast. His lips are firm and forceful, sucking my skin and leaving his mark. Then he starts to bite. Hard.

Panic rises, shattering my hungry trance. I shove his mouth from my nipple and thrash beneath him.

His eyes flash to mine, and he growls a low, combative noise.

“So damn feisty.” His thrusts quicken, hammering with urgency. “God, yes… Yes…” He doesn’t look away, his moans gravelly and hoarse. “You feel unbelievable. Fucking heaven.”

It shouldn’t feel this good. I should be repulsed and fighting him off. He fucking spanked me! How did I let this happen?

I grip his ass to stop his movements, but the muscles flex harder against my palms with each drive of his hips.

He’s a frenzy of testosterone, pounding into me like a lust-fueled piston. His eyes never leave mine, watching me, worshiping me with that ice-blue stare as his long fingers slide between us and clamp onto my clit.

My spine arches off the floor, and my legs shake against a flood of