Fueling His Hunger (Masters of Adrenaline 2)

“Are you going to go home and tell your friends how you let some pervert you barely know fuck your sweet little ass?”

She opened her mouth, but only gasped, tasting the cotton under her face as he fucked her harder, jarring her, making her cry out. He went up on his knees, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her hips up with him. Again and again he drove into her.

Never. She could never tell anyone how much she loved this. Loved being treated like his filthy whore.

His hand pressed up between her legs, catching her clit between cruel fingers. She choked, gagged on her own spit, gasping for breath as she struggled against him, loving that he didn’t let her pull away, just kept pounding into her, forcing her body take his lust, arousal spiking, shocked he was lasting so long when she was on the verge again.

Her ass ached, quivered, clenched at him. He mauled her clit, and she fought back the orgasm, teetered on the brink, lost.

She screamed in agonized pleasure, hurting her own ears as her empty pussy clamped down on nothing, her asshole milking his cock with great, shuddering pulses of muscle. His body locked over hers. His swears grated in her ears, deafening her as she felt his cock pulse and jerk inside her. The movement extended her own orgasm as his hand tightened convulsively and painfully on her clit. She cried out again with the aftershock, writhing beneath him as he collapsed on top of her, crushing her to the mattress.

She lay there, stunned.

Fuck, she felt high. She struggled to normalize her breathing and slow her galloping heart. The weight of him on top of her was the only thing keeping her from flying apart. He rolled his hips and hummed in her ear, sending pleasurable electric shocks down the length of her body. She shuddered hard, even as he pulled his hand away from her clit. The pillow insinuated itself between her legs as soon as his hand was gone.

He rolled her onto her side and wrapped his thickly muscled arms around her, nudging her into the fetal position with his knees tucked against the back of hers. His breathing was as labored as her own. The thumping of his heart against her back was almost hard enough to be a massage.

He kissed the side of her neck. She moaned quietly, arousal trying to rekindle despite the sore exhaustion of her body.

“Lovely Ophelia, you blow my fucking mind.”

There was no polite lie in his voice. He sounded amazed. By her. She smiled, wanting to be able to replay this exact moment for herself—the awed tone, the feel of his breath stirring her hair. Maybe again and again.

No one had ever complimented her in bed, let alone said that she’d blown their mind. She wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but now she just wanted to figure out how to do it again.

He pulled out, went to clean up, then carried her to the bath he’d left running. He got in first then pulled her in on top of him, settling her on his chest as though she was fragile and precious, rather than his filthy whore.

She loved that she could be both to this man. Loved it even more when he held her close and kissed her eyelids as she dozed off, warm and safe in his arms.

***

Ophelia woke slowly, memory creeping in like fog on a dreary night. Her body ached. Her limbs felt heavy and her clit and ass sore and abused.

Oh god.

Had she really just had anal with a guy she barely knew?

She should probably feel ashamed but . . . there was, like, some weird glow growing in her chest. A high, a buzzing excitement that contrasted her limp, tired body.

Last night had been the best sex ever. It’d been wild and crazy and amazing and she didn’t regret a single bit of it. Luke was . . . perfect.

She turned to look at him, sprawled on his back, sound asleep, a muscled and tattooed menace that she’d worn out all by herself. The first light of dawn came through the crack between the curtains, casting a blue haze over his face. God, he was gorgeous.

Smiling, she fought the urge to trace his sexy lips with her finger.

The clock read seven in the morning. She should be exhausted but that buzzing took over and her mind spun too much to go back to sleep. But she didn’t want to wake Luke.

Quietly, she crept out of bed and pulled on one of Luke’s T-shirts. It was almost a dress on her but she liked the way his scent hugged her. After finding a pair of yoga pants in her duffel bag, she stepped into them, then slipped on a pair of flip-flops and silently left the suite.

She wasn’t sure where to go or what to do, but she felt restless. In the lobby, complimentary breakfast was being served. The smell of bacon and coffee lured her. After loading up a plate and pouring a mug of coffee, she took a seat in one of the big rocking chairs on the back porch.

There she had a spectacular view of the lake and the mountains surrounding it. The chilly morning air gave her goose bumps but sipping coffee helped.

A bird cawed in the distance, the water rippled softly, and she was overcome with a sense of perfect peace. There was room to think here, untouched by the pressure of society. No one telling her what to do or taking her picture.

No wonder her father had fallen in love with this place.

If she sold the company, what would happen to this lodge? Would the buyers leave it as it was now or would they want to make it grander? Or maybe they’d level it to build something else.