Wounded Angel (The Earth Angels) - By Stacy Gail Page 0,51

sucked hard on it while rubbing against him like a cat, enjoying his hair-roughened skin abrading hers. His shattered groan that accompanied the convulsive arch of his back spawned a feverish pulsing between her legs.

“Ella, now, goddamn it...”

She’d pushed him to the absolute limit, testing his will to let her control the situation until he was all but insane, and she found she was at her limit as well. With an economy of movement, she divested him of the sweatpants and boxer briefs beneath, pausing only when he grabbed the sweats before she tossed them away to remove a foil packet from the slash pocket. Together they slid the protection in place, and she had enough time to catch her breath at his physique; he was as big sexually as he was in stature, and she knew a moment’s worry that she might not be able to accommodate him. Then she shifted until she straddled his body, taking his hot, pulsing length in hand and guiding him into her depths.

Yes.

Their broken moans intertwined at the merging. His hardened flesh was hot, but hers was scorching, molding around him in a welcoming embrace that made her shiver and whisper his name. Her fingers splayed over his chest as she rolled her hips experimentally, and joy shot through her at his jagged gasp. “Touch me. I want your hands on me, Nate.”

Beyond words, he gripped her hips with hands that seemed starved for the feel of her. He lifted her up until he was halfway out of her depths only to slam her down again, then repeated the move until the world shook with the glorious force. She shuddered with blossoming delight, the sensation of being filled so abruptly with his thickness so pleasurable the muscles deep inside her belly writhed with the sweet torture. The rhythm he set up was quick and savage, and she fell into it with ease, leaving his hands free to roam up her rib cage to possess her breasts, the bowls of his palms filled with the sensitive rounded flesh while his thumbs and forefingers relentlessly tormented the taut nubs until she ground her teeth against the urgent rapture building like a hurricane inside her. She pressed a hand over his, wanting more, her hips rising and falling feverishly as she rode his steely length. Heaven was so close...

His free hand dropped to where their bodies merged to massage the swollen flesh there, not stopping until he found the center of her pleasure. A ragged gasp tore from her, then another as he rocked with her while the giddy madness he pushed her into swelled...

The climax hit her so hard she could do nothing but writhe with it, trying in vain to escape the sweet madness of mindless pleasure, and dimly she knew he was right with her. Blinding, a whirl of ecstasy that she never wanted to end, they pummeled into each other in search of prolonging the perfection, and it was the sweetest relief to simply give herself over to it, and to him.

Shivers of reverberating satiation rippled along her skin. Her throat was raw from doing exactly what he’d said she’d do—call his name like it was the only word she knew. She collapsed onto his chest, then squeaked when the bed gave a death-rattle screech and buckled beneath them.

“Damn.” With a half laugh, Nate held her protectively against his chest and offered a satisfied sigh. “We must be good at this.”

Chapter Twelve

An early-morning TV talk show murmured in the background as Nate set up his laptop on the dining table, sleepily scrubbing at his stubble-rough face as the system slowly connected to the hotel’s Wi-Fi. The bathroom door was closed while the sound of running water hummed through the walls. The thought of joining Ella in the shower crossed his mind, but even as his inner lecher rubbed gleeful hands together, the caved-in profile of the busted sofa bed caught his eye.

Wow.

No force of earth could stop the slow curling of his mouth, though obligation to those waiting for word from him kept him where he was. In so many ways the night before was one for the record books. Considering how combustible he and Ella were together, he supposed they were lucky they hadn’t set the place on fire. Broken furniture was only to be expected with their level of enthusiasm.

Enthusiasm. He shook his head as he typed in his password to gain access to NeoPhilim. That was one word for