“Ah.” Her spine arched and her head tipped back, exposing the elegant lines of her throat. It was almost as though something had broken inside of her when he’d pushed inside. He thrust a second time, deeper. She was tight, perfect. His hands moved to the backs of her thighs where he squeezed and slid his fingers to the crease of her buttocks.
“You wanted it, right?” He dug his fingers into her flesh.
“Hard.”
He thrust again.
“Harder,” she demanded.
He obliged.
God, he’d barely known her a week and yet somehow, he’d wanted her for a lifetime. He clutched her against him, pounding and reaching, causing her head to fall forward.
Her teeth bit into his jacket and shirt, her hands dug into his scalp, tugged at his hair.
It was as though she was releasing emotions she’d kept pent up for years. Perhaps since her husband had died, possibly before then. She drew him into her body with the ferocity of a lioness, fighting to be closer.
In one motion, Sebastian had them both on the floor, his body on top of hers now, pinning her hands with his and searching her mouth mercilessly. She wanted all of it, she’d told him. He slammed into her, and she gasped. He buried himself to the hilt and pushed her into the floor with his hips.
“More,” she gasped.
He drew out of her swiftly and, without ceremony, lifted her up so that she was kneeling, facing the settee. She seemed to know what he was going to do and leaned forward, exposing pale, soft flesh.
21
More
Feeling primitive and unrestrained, Margaret glanced over her shoulder as she waiting for him to fill her from behind, needing him to fill her again—aching for it. Warm hands gripped her and one of his trouser-covered knees urged her to spread her own apart. And then he was there, inside of her again, touching the places that needed touching, stretching the places that needed stretching in the most glorious way. Painful yet also exquisite. In that moment, she wanted to be conquered, dominated. She wanted him to lose all control with her. She wanted to be… wanted. Needed.
Craved.
And not just in a warm and friendly manner, but violently… spectacularly, desperately!
A tug at her scalp pulled her head back. One of his hands reached around to her breast; gave a tight pinch and then a strong squeeze. He tugged and caressed and then his hand traveled lower to slide between her legs. He knew exactly what she wanted. He’d seemed to know from the first moment they’d touched.
Need and anger and fear and passion tore through her as she neared satisfaction. She pushed back, meeting him, wanting to consume but also to be consumed.
“Don’t stop!” she commanded. She was so close. His hand rubbed at her front, his cock filling her from behind. “Please, don’t stop!” She’d die if he stopped.
“Shhhh…” His mouth was by her ear. “Someone will hear you.”
But she was beyond reason. Masculine fingers covered her mouth and she bit into them. In response, he took her harder. She bit again, and he came at her even harder.
His pace quickened as did the motion of his hand. It was too much, not enough, just enough.
She might as well have burst into flames as brutal ecstasy tore through her. He’d pushed deep but in the last second jerked away. When she collapsed, she was hardly even aware that he’d spent himself along her leg.
“Maggie.” He rested along her back, both of them collapsed against the settee now. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever walk again,” she murmured.
He enfolded her with his body. “You are not sorry?”
Was she? She’d consumed half a decanter of sherry before he’d arrived but had already decided she would enter into an affair. “No.” She was not. “That was…”
“Incredible?” he asked.
“Perhaps.”
