o 35b0a02a46796a4f by deba schrott

existed were tantalizing sensations.
    A strong, slightly scruffy leg wrapped around hers. Han cupped her from behind and pulled her ever closer. T
    smooth, round head of a penis slid along her belly, and she gasped as every last inch of her flamed.
    She reached for him in the darkness, and he was there. mystery, a man, his touch making her forget. . . somewhere Everything. Until she remembered only this.
    One tug on those biceps and he was above her, an instant later within her. Firm and fast, he gave; she took. Again and again and again.
    “Come with me,” he growled.
    “Yes,” she answered. “Yes.” The word a surrender she’d never given anyone else.
    Her palms ran over his back, relishing the ripple of muscle, the sleek slide of skin. He smelled like the earth beneath the moon, the trees tipped with silver, a sky full of rain. She pressed her face into his neck, took a deep long whiff, then drew his flesh into her mouth and tasted. His flavor was salt and surf. She wanted to gobble him up, make him a part of her forever, and she knew just how.

    Grasping his hips, she urged him on, until he swelled an stretched and—
    “Now,” she whispered.
    “What?” he answered. Alex opened her eyes, just as Barlow opened his.
    He’d been dreaming, and while he. should have been disturbed that he’d been dreaming of her, the sex had been incredible he’d ignored the warning whisper.
    What could he say? He was a guy.
    Most of the time.
    But her teeth, while arousing, had also roused him and that one word had rumbled along his skin, tickling and taunting him. He’d half awakened, realizing he was on the verge of coming like a teenager in his bed, only to discover he wasn’t at home alone but on top of someone, penis surrounded by a slick, tight heat.
    His eyes widened; so did hers. Her hands at his ‘hips, clenched; he figured she’d shove him away, and he tensed, prepared to resist, until he remembered who she was and t hat he’d rather fuck a tiger than Alexandra Trevalyn.
    Unfortunately, his body had other ideas.
    She arched—most likely to buck him off—instead he slid in farther, the friction of skin along skin making him clench his jaw before he groaned aloud. It had been so long, and she was so damn tight. He felt like his cock was in a vise—a soft, damp, really great vise, one that could both caress him until he was mindless and squeeze him until he was dry.
    Instead of shoving him away, her grip on his hips tightened. Her breath, fast and sharp, rubbed her peaked nipples against his chest in a tantalizing rhythm.
    Julian stared into her flushed face, her dazed eyes, and understood. She was coming, too.
    Oh, what the hell, he thought. Too late now to pretend this was a dream. Might as well make her scream. He wanted to.
    He slowed his hips as he lengthened his thrusts. All the way out until she strained forward, all the way in until her breath caught at the back of her throat. Again and again, slowly increasing his speed, plunging ever deeper until neither of them could stop the inevitable.
    She cried out. He took her mouth, drinking the sound, and it last she closed her eyes, releasing him to do the same.
    He hoped he could now imagine she was someone else,
    anyone else, even no one, hell his hand was better than her—but just because he wasn’t seeing her didn’t mean she wasn’t there. The scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of he was all around him. And the orgasm.. . it went on and on and on.
    He was still enjoying the final tremors—her, him, didn’t know and he didn’t care—when her body, so war and soft, turned cool and stiff. Before she could shove hi’ off, he rolled away, staring at the roof of the cave as she up and rested her head upon her knees, curling into herself as if he’d just violated her.
    Her thin back, the bones of her ribs standing out in sharp relief, that faint shadow of the bruise still upon them made her seem fragile vulnerable, womanly. He didn’t even realize