Rapture (Renegades 7)

He released her wrists from above her head and slid all five fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck. Closed his fingers in the strands and took control of her head. He held her, eye to eye. His gaze was so dark, so intense. The intimacy made her heart hiccup. Made her want to squirm and hide. She fisted her hands in his shirt at the shoulders, lifted her hips into his hand.

Oh yes. This was good. So close. Climbing so fast. The peak insanely high. But his gaze was unnerving.

It made her wonder what he saw in her eyes. Made her feel exposed. Vulnerable.

When he pushed back inside her, his thrust was rough and deep. Zahara gasped, but just as quickly moaned. She’d never let a man own her like this. A sliver of shame snuck past her weak defenses. Shame she gave him control over her body. Shame she didn’t want him to stop. Shame over loving the sensation of being taken with such raw hunger.

But the pleasure was so intense, she felt helpless. It spiraled higher and higher but wouldn’t break. The force and manipulation both drove wave after wave of pleasure through her while also keeping the orgasm just out of reach.

She closed her eyes to get a break from his overwhelming dominance. One that was clouding her mind and messing with her emotions. He gave her head a shake, and a sting shot across her scalp. Not painful. Not really. Nothing compared to her need for release.

“No.” He stilled, and her body felt like it twisted and clawed for release. So close. So fucking close. “Open your eyes, Zahara.”

The command was so serious, so unlike him. She opened her eyes, half expecting to find herself with someone else. Half wondering if the tequila swimming through her blood had tanked her so hard, she’d taken some random guy at the bar back to the hotel, not Chase.

But she found his handsome face looking back at her. His skin glowing with sweat, his eyes dripping desire, but also affection. One that seemed too sharp and too intense to fit the soft thoughts the word evoked. She couldn’t quite get over the way it made her feel—so intensely wanted.

Her body trembled with layer upon layer upon layer of excitement. “Don’t stop.” The word came as a raspy whisper. A wanton, aching, rough breath. “Chase, don’t stop.”

“Look at me.” With his hand deep between her legs, his fingers as far as they could reach, she felt him move inside her. So deep inside her. Aggressive, deliberate moves with the tips of his fingers that nudged her right to the edge of the orgasmic cliff. Her breaths came in shallow, quick wisps. She almost feared if she breathed too hard, she’d slip and the ledge would crumble away. As if she’d scramble, loose her footing, and tumble down the side.

Zahara didn’t want to slip and stumble. She wanted to fly.

“On three.” His voice was low and serious, and she instantly knew he was repeating her words to him earlier. “One.” He pulled back and punched his fist against her, driving his fingers into that button that made her scream. Then his fingers circled and circled and circled.

She arched. Panted. “Ah, God.”

“Two.” He repeated the punch, his fingertips flicking, flicking, flicking.

She fisted his shirt so hard, she was sure it would tear.

“What comes next?” he asked, his voice rough and knowing.

She didn’t hesitate. “Three. Please. Three.”

He drove deep. Then again. And again. And again.

And Zahara didn’t just fall off the cliff. She sailed.

The orgasm hit her with the strength of a tsunami. Slamming her with pleasure so hard, she tumbled and rolled, twisted and thrashed. She lost track of place and time. Her mind floated in a whitewash of sparkles and bursts. Her blood swooshed in her ears. Another crack. Another wave. Over and over. Then smaller and smaller.

Even when the orgasms slowed and gentled, it took a long time to still her head from the spin. Limp, she laid her arm over her eyes.

The cushion lifted, a sign of Chase moving off the sofa, but Zahara didn’t have the energy to look. She assumed he was stripping and would soon strip her. The thought of experiencing that kind of passion and pleasure again, this time with the full force of his body and the thick length of his cock, sparked a few of the red-hot embers back into a flame.

Sure enough, his hands made it to her panties in record time, and she took the last breath of rest as he slid them off. But instead of feeling his naked body between her legs, her thighs slid against soft, warm cotton.

Zahara rolled her head to the side and forced her lids open. She found Chase on his knees, her thighs over his shoulders. He slid his hands under her ass and dragged her forward, then used his hands to push her thighs wide.

“Chase…what…?” But she knew what. And all her inhibitions and need for control rose to the surface again. “Wait.”

But he wasn’t listening. His big hands supported her thighs, his thumbs stroked her sex, then spread her wide, and he covered her with his mouth. And sucked.

A shock of pleasure trembled down her limbs. Before she could even process the sensations, he did it again. His tongue licked, his lips sucked, his throat hummed with dark pleasure and shivered over her sex.

Zahara’s gut kicked, her heart skipped, but her pussy basked in this entirely new, completely insane form of pleasure. Her throat closed, and for several long moments, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t comprehend the sensations he could create with his mouth. That hungry, rough, luscious mouth.

She dropped back on the sofa, cried out, fisted the edge of the cushion. She was spinning again. Spinning and climbing. Twisting and tumbling. So completely at his mercy. So unbearably pleasured.