He kissed her, slow, his large hands going to her rear, squeezing, causing a soft moan to leave her.
Those wicked lips of his went to her neck, and she arched her body against him, like she was a needy cat.
What is he doing to her?
Thick fingers entered her sex, and Delia cried out, pulling him to her. The previous night, she had found pleasure at least five times, if she counted correctly. How was such a thing possible?
“May I have you again?” he asked, rolling her over.
His hard, strong body pressed against hers, his member at her thigh, at attention.
Suddenly, Delia was no longer in any discomfort, just need.
“Please,” she whispered, her lips grazing a path to his rough cheek, enjoying the feel of his whiskers against her mouth.
Unlike the previous night, he entered her slow and steady. His hands desperately roaming her body, like she would disappear if he didn’t touch every single part of her.
Boldly, Delia’s own hands roamed down his strong back, feeling every dip and muscle.
“My greedy little hellion,” he whispered darkly against her neck.
His thrusts were deep, filling her up completely until she felt as if she would explode from the sheer size of him.
Delia had believed herself somewhat experienced, but clearly, her rushed dalliances were nothing in comparison to the overall inferno that Hunt caused inside of her.
Throwing her head back against the pillow, she met his motion with her own, chasing her pleasure.
“Oh God, Hunt, don’t stop.” She gripped his shoulder, her nails surely leaving a mark on him.
The thought pleased her more than it should. She wanted to mark him as hers, alerting every woman in England that he belonged to her.
She was going mad. It was official.
Shocking her, Hunt sat up on his knees, bringing her hips with him. “Never. I’ll never stop.” The promise pierced her very soul.
Delia closed her eyes, fighting the emotion that suddenly threatened to ruin the moment for her.
No.
Hope was the killer of dreams. Waiting for her mother to return for eighteen years had proven that to her.
Her legs began to quiver, her sex throbbing, as he hit a spot deep inside of her that had her gripping the white cotton sheets of the bed.
One of his hands touched her sex, rubbing slow torturous circles. Wetness flooded from her, as she called out in ecstasy, “Hunt!” Delia couldn’t control her own body as she moved her hips up and down on him, like she was a wild woman.
It was pure bliss, as he squeezed one of her breasts.
Hunt’s jaw clenched, as he grunted and stilled inside of her, his head thrown back in pleasure.
She did that.
Releasing her, he fell beside her, kissing her shoulder. She smiled at him, pressing her hand against his sweat-soaked face.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
