Rage (Benson Security 3)

that mattered was the desperate, overwhelming need for more.

A gasp.

A moan.

Fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, demanding more. Her body undulated against him in time with her lips. She tasted of cinnamon and chocolate, and a desperation that inflamed his own. They burned together, each of them acting as fuel for the other’s flame.

Tongues duelled. Lips caressed. Teeth nipped. He poured himself into her and she demanded even more. He stroked down her body, across her hips to her thighs, and lifted her. Automatically, her legs wrapped around his waist and they were face to face. The perfect height. They were mouth to mouth. Hard to soft.

There was no rational thought. Only brutal, raw, desperate need. Isobel’s teeth nipped at Callum’s bottom lip, and the noise that escaped him was base. He was functioning on pure, unadulterated instinct. He needed this woman. He needed to be inside her. He needed it now.

Callum broke the kiss, searching for a surface to press her against. He wanted to wedge her between the hard wall and his even harder body. He needed access for his hands, and teeth, and tongue. Isobel squirmed, and moaned her protest at losing his lips. Her head lowered and she sucked on his neck before biting hard enough to leave a mark. Callum tightened his hand in her hair, and strode through his already open door.

He slammed her against the wall, letting his hips and the pressure of his body hold her in place. Hands went under shirts in a frantic exploration. Her nipples were hard against his palms, her teeth rough against his ear. There was panting. Loud. Desperate. Uncivilised.

With a desperate rip, he tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her bra was a wisp of lace that hid nothing. Perfect pink nipples made his mouth water, and with a growl, he lowered his head to capture one through the lace. He sucked it deep into his mouth.

“Yes!” Isobel threw her head back and pressed her flesh into his eager mouth, her hands clasping at his head, tugging his hair to keep him in place.

He licked and sucked and bit her ripe, hard nipple as he slid her skirt up to her waist. Satin-soft skin. Warm, wet heat.

He had to get inside her.

He had to.

His body had broken out in a sweat with desperation to be inside this woman. With one hand helping to support her against the wall, Callum reached for the buttons on his jeans to free himself.

His cock was desperately hard and ready for her. He pushed her underwear aside and caressed her slick, wet heat. Gasps filled his ears. The sound he made in reply was one he didn’t recognise. In that moment, he was more animal than man. All he could think about, all he could feel, was Isobel. Their chemistry was a fog around him, wiping out the rest of the world, blanketing his past and his worries and his fears.

He positioned his aching shaft at her entrance and focused on her face. Her head was back against the wall, lips swollen and parted, eyes closed. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was wild. She was clinging to him, panting hard, just as lost and desperate as he was.

“Isobel,” he barked. “Look at me.”

Slowly, languorously, Isobel opened her beautiful blue eyes. She was dazed, her eyelids heavy with desire. He’d never seen a more sensual sight.

“Say yes,” he demanded.

She pressed her hips towards him, making the head of his cock rub against her sensitive flesh. She moaned and her eyes drifted closed. She was lost to sensation. Lost in him. The feeling of power her reaction caused made Callum heady. He had done this. Barely keeping hold of the tenuous awareness of reality that he’d managed to grasp, he needed her answer.

“Isobel, say yes.” He flexed his hips and pressed against her.

She undulated as she forced her eyes open. Her tongue swept across her lips as she stared into him. Not at him. Into him. She grasped the hair on either side of his head and yanked his face forward until there was nothing to see but the desperation in each other’s eyes.

“Get. Inside. Me. Now!”

He captured her mouth in a punishing kiss as he thrust his length inside her. Warm, grasping flesh enveloped him, and he swallowed her moans as he ground his hips against her. Nails raked his shoulder. Her thighs tightened on his hips.

“Yes, yes, yes…” she chanted.

Callum buried his face in the crook of her neck and licked at her skin. Cinnamon and fire. His addiction. Something deeply primitive within him reared its head. He clamped his mouth over the muscle where her shoulder met her throat. He sucked hard, wanting to mark her. Wanting to leave his brand on her porcelain skin. Wanting the world to know that she was his. There was no logic in his reasoning. No thought of the future or what his need meant. All that existed was instinct.

“Come for me, Isobel,” he said against her ear.

It was enough to send her over. With one desperate cry, she arched. Her skin flushed and her body shuddered. Callum felt her clench around him and his muscles locked in place. He rushed over with her, roaring his release. They were in the centre of a tornado, the world replaced by spiralling winds and the ferocious force of nature.

Slowly.

Gradually.