Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

She screamed. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t control it. He was so strong. So hard. So powerful as he took her over and over again. Turn

ing her on, driving her crazy, making her want more and more of him when he was already giving her everything.

“Dalton,” she sobbed, her body spinning wildly out of control. “Please, let me come. Let me—”

He reached down and stroked his thumb over her clit. Once, twice, again and again as he continued to thrust furiously inside of her.

Then he was leaning down, pulling one of her nipples into his mouth.

She bucked against him, tried to rush him, but he used one hand to hold her hips still, then used the other to grab her wrists and hold them behind her back.

“I want to touch you,” she gasped, yanking against the tight hold he had on her wrists. With her arms pinned behind her she was completely at his mercy, able to take only whatever it was he chose to give her.

“Not now, sweetheart. I’m too close.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck, bit her shoulder in an effort to establish dominance—as if she didn’t already know who was in control. At another time, with another guy, it would have bothered her. Would have had her bucking against him and what he was trying to do with her body. But this was Dalton, the man who had seen all the crazy she could throw out and who wanted her anyway. The man who—despite the tatts and the body piercings—kissed and touched and held her like she was the sexiest, most important, most precious thing in his world.

Still, he wasn’t the only one with tricks up his sleeve. He drove her crazy, took her higher than she’d ever dreamed possible, but that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted, needed, to do the same for him.

With that thought in mind, she pushed her knees into his sides and slowly—oh, so slowly—clenched the muscles of her sex around him. She felt his response in the jerk of his cock, saw it in the clenching of his jaw as he fought to maintain control.

She did it again, squeezing a little bit harder, a little bit longer, before she released him.

“Stop it,” he growled, his free hand coming down hard on her ass.

She threw her head back and laughed, even as she tightened the muscles again and again. “Make me.”

“Harmony.” His voice was low, a warning more animal than human as she continued to caress him with her body. He was getting ready to lose it—she could feel it in the thighs that trembled beneath her own and the hand that clenched more firmly around her wrists.

But she didn’t care. She wanted him to lose it, wanted him to plunge inside of her with all the darkness and passion and emotion he had inside of him. She wanted him as crazy and out of control as she was.

She wanted him every way she could have him.

“Come on, Dalton,” she whispered tauntingly. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

He released her hands with a roar, his fingers clenching on her ass to keep her in place as he stood. He took two long strides, slammed her back—hard—against the kitchen wall.

“You asked for it,” he growled, as his hips began to piston against her. Harder, deeper than before, he pounded into her. Again and again he slammed inside her, until she was overwhelmed. Surrounded. Completely taken over by him. More, she was completely in his thrall. This man who was so strong and smart. This man who made her want to cede control for the first time in her life.

And still he surged inside of her. Desperately. Furiously. Each quick, hard stroke of his dick a branding that told her exactly who owned her body.

Harmony moaned as she wrapped her arms around him and held his shaking, furious body against her own. She’d wanted to push him, to see him without his infernal control. To show him that she could take whatever he dished out. And she was taking it, but God, she’d never felt anything this intense before, not even the last time he’d made love to her.

Her orgasm slammed through her. Heat radiated along her every nerve ending, radiant incandescent flames that she couldn’t control. That she could only experience. She called his name then, her hands tangling in his hair, her legs clenching tightly around his waist.

“I love you, Harmony.” Dalton’s voice was low, hoarse, his body jerking spasmodically against hers as he emptied himself inside of her in long, jetting streams. His shudders—and his words—set off another explosion inside of her, and then she was crying out his name, whimpering, wailing, burying her face against the heavy muscles of his chest as her body spun onto a whole different plane, one where the pleasure went on and on and on.

When it was over, when the pleasure had finally receded and she was left limp and lazy and utterly exhausted, she kept waiting for him to say it again. Kept waiting for him to whisper that he loved her, that he wanted her—just the way she was.

But he didn’t say anything and neither did she. How could she, when he was wrapped around her, filling up an empty space inside of her that no one else had ever been able to reach?

* * *

Chapter 19

* * *

“Wakey, wakey.” Someone slapped Harmony on the ass a couple of times. She knew that saccharine-sweet voice … it was the only reason he wasn’t dead. Tre.

“I just crawled in bed.” She cracked one eye open. It was 4:06 a.m. No hangover, so that was good. “Go away, I’m tired.”