Fueling His Hunger (Masters of Adrenaline 2)

“I could kiss them better, if you like.” She squirmed beneath him, and he groaned.

“Didn’t you say you were going to be a good girl now?”

“I can’t help it. You make being bad too much fun.”

He chuckled, and it made his cock quiver inside her.

“Mmm . . . just fuck me already!”

“Is this what you want?” He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed into her, his body forcing hers to take his ferocity, jarring her back against the rock. She cried out, then complained as he slowly withdrew. He paused for so long she thought he’d decided to stop, but then he plunged into her again. She waited in desperate anticipation for the next thrust, but it didn’t come until she begged for it. The cruel intimacy of being held down while he pounded into her, of him watching her expression with sadistic bliss while he waited for her to plead for more, brought her quickly to the brink again, her brain hazed with need and a strange floaty euphoria.

He stopped just as she was about to come. Beneath him, she went wild, screaming and fighting to wrest control from him. Patiently, he held her down, waiting out her tantrum with savage amusement.

“You don’t like me,” she accused.

It startled a laugh from him. “Oh, I like you far too much.” He was panting. Thank god he wasn’t as calm as he’d seemed to be. It wouldn’t be fair at all. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“If you really liked me, you’d let me come!” She yanked ineffectively at the hand that trapped her wrists, and when that didn’t succeed in doing anything, she focused on trying to grind her clit against his pelvis.

So fucking close.

“You’re a spoiled little girl, aren’t you? Maybe I should stop now and not let you get off.”

“Why would you do that!”

“Maybe it’ll help you remember me.”

They watched each other for a long moment, neither of them moving.

“Like I’m going to forget.” Her throat felt thick and tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away, feeling like an idiot.

This time when he kissed her it was long and sweet. He let go of her wrists and laced his fingers through hers, holding her down with affection rather than force. Now he followed her lead, reading what her body wanted and giving it to her. As her orgasm built again, she tried to hold off, not wanting it to be over, but he knew just what she needed and used it against her, bringing her to the edge of climax and balancing her there, letting it drive her mad before finally giving her firm, hard thrusts. The hissing sibilance of his ragged breathing was mesmerizing. Her body tightened, the tension deep and needy.

“Please let me come,” she begged, sure he was going to be cruel and stop again.

“Are you going to come all over my cock, princess?”

Unable to tear her gaze from his, she choked on a sob. Her pleasure teetered on the edge, overwhelming, almost frightening. She came, her body seizing under his, clenching around him in waves she couldn’t control.

“Fuck.” He grunted and his thrusts became erratic, the unpredictability spurring her orgasm on until she was sobbing and writhing, helpless to make it stop. He pummeled into her, their bodies slapping together, louder than his curses.

“I want to rip this condom off and come in you so hard you choke on it.”

She mewled, struggling weakly beneath him, her clit so sensitive that his every brush against it extended her orgasm.

“Your pretty cunt makes me so fucking crazy,” he hissed. “You’re mine, Ophelia. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she sobbed. There was no denying it. Not when he could do this to her—make her so needy and helpless beneath him.

He grunted. The tendons in his neck stood out and his face became a mask of agonized pleasure. Deep in her pussy, his cock twitched, quivered, throbbed. Then he was pounding into her, his body viciously taking everything it wanted. He bellowed, swore, came, his eyes wild, more beast than man.

He came back to himself gradually, as the storm passed, his thrusts less powerful, his kisses less hungry.

“Such a good girl, my girl,” he said, his gaze lazy and affectionate. He stroked her skin, held her, murmured sweet words, kissed her face. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. She was so sore, but it felt so good. It was exactly what she’d needed.

He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”