No Gentle Giant (A Small Town Romance)

I hold his eyes, silently begging for my own destruction.

I’m asking if he has it in him.

I plead for him to go wild and punish me with lavish ecstasy, make me feel good, teach me to forget there’s anything out there except us.

His eyes are so dark, so hot, so questioning, but I can see his discipline slipping. His finely honed control and that mask of civility he wears pulling down another inch.

Then it happens.

He snaps.

His fingers are a brute’s in my hair, dragging me down to his tongue.

His mouth owns mine, devouring and raw, animalistic with a passion so pure it scorches.

And he surges to his feet, taking me with him, my legs wrapped around his waist as he carries me into the bedroom.

His warring mouth never lets go of mine. His other hand feels so large, supporting me with the broad span of it across my ass, making me feel possessed and claimed.

I could nearly squeal with the thrill of it.

And when my back hits the bed hard, I do.

His body follows even harder, eclipsing me under his bulk, thunder in his throat and harsh demands in his fire caves for eyes.

I writhe beneath him, luxuriating in his sheer size. Experiencing this redwood of a man like this—a total prisoner to his mercy—hits so different I almost black out.

But I wouldn’t dream of missing what’s next.

Not in a trillion years.

His hands go everywhere, stripping me naked, leaving me all vulnerable skin against his roughness, exposed to his gaze.

To his touch.

To his tongue, bending to taste me with a wild light flickering in his gaze.

Foly. Huck.

Yes, thank you, I’m already wrecked for words.

I feel like I’m in heat as he flicks over my throat, my collarbone, my chest, my breasts, my soul.

His rough tongue-tip lashes my nipples.

Experienced lips suck me to heaven, kneading hands stroking over my breasts, my waist, my hips.

His caresses swirl over my navel, down, down, his beard raking my tender flesh with just the right roughness.

Then, napalm fire everywhere.

His tongue delves inside me with a growl chasing it.

True to his name, Alaska is a hunter, a savage frontiersman finding my weaknesses.

Anywhere and everywhere that makes me arch and buck and fight him just to make him do it more.

My fingers dig at his thick hair as he takes me high and crashes me down, turning me inside out with slow, deliberate, tormenting strokes followed by quick flicks, wet-velvet friction. He plunges so deep only to circle and flit and swirl and then—

Oh, God.

Here we go.

Ignition.

Vision flashing white, knees clamping against his muscular shoulders, pleasure spearing me so relentlessly it’s like getting fucked by my own orgasm.

Coming is an understatement.

This is rapture, intense and unholy and convulsing through me with seismic power.

I can’t breathe.

And he doesn’t give me a split second to try.

Not when his tongue fades, replaced by his fingers, thick and crude and rough, sliding into me when I’m still clenching inside, touching every raw place.

He watches me with all-consuming heat, devouring my reaction as I toss my head back and forth, keening and whimpering and nearly chattering teeth with my wanting.

“You need me, Fliss?” he growls. Gone is the soft-spoken sweetheart, replaced by a feral animal. “You fucking want me?”

He plunges his fingers in deeper, then, and I can’t even answer as I scream.

It’s too much but I still want more.

I want him inside me.

I want to think about nothing but his body, his cock, and his pleasure.

Clawing at his shoulders, writhing on his fingers, sucking in desperate breaths, I find my voice.

Somehow, I give him a broken, gasping, “...yes. Want you.”

The only words I can manage, my mind spinning.

But they’re the only words he needs.

He moves over me, fingers withdrawing to leave me empty, his body spreading me open until I can barely fit his bulk between my thighs.

His zipper slashing open sounds almost threatening—but when his fullness spills free, burning hot and pressing against me, I shudder with a full-body thirst to feel it.

I’ve second-guessed so much my entire life.

But there’s no doubt I want this.

I want him.

And as he takes my mouth again, as he rocks his hips forward, as he pushes his forehead to mine and sets me on fire for the dozenth time tonight with those mad Denali mountains for eyes...

I hold on.

I hold him as tight as I can, wrapping my limbs around him, asking him to wreck me like a human wave.

I don’t know how sex can be so wild and so tender simultaneously.

He’s a force of nature, so powerful he can’t possibly be gentle, but it feels so flipping good I don’t care.

Hot flesh moves inside me, spreads me from within, touches me in ways so intimate it’s unbearable. His thrusts deepen, coming faster and harder, his pubic bone grinding at my clit, dragging the pleasure out of me until I’m a whimpering mess.