CHAPTER 13
Callie let the notes die away, then put one hand over the strings, silencing the guitar, staring at Jack’s tall, broad figure silhouetted by the light coming through the windows.
He didn’t move, yet there was a fierce kind of tension radiating from him, one that she didn’t understand.
Had he really liked her song? Or had he only asked her to play to humor her? Which was a stupid thing to think because Jack wasn’t the type of man who humored anyone. Then again, he wasn’t needlessly cruel either. So maybe he was trying to be nice?
Nerves fluttered in her stomach. He hadn’t said a word since he’d come in except to ask her why she was playing for him and that she should play it again, not even that he liked it.
God, she really wanted him to like it. This was her soul she was revealing to him.
Maybe she should have stopped playing the moment she’d heard the door open, but she hadn’t. She’d kept playing, partly because it was too late to pretend the music wasn’t hers and partly because she wanted him to hear it.
It was true, he was the first person she’d ever played for. The first person she’d even wanted to play for. And that mattered.
Yet asking him straight out if he liked it felt a little too desperate, especially when there was obviously something going on with him.
Beneath her nervousness, a small current of fear wound through her. Had something gone wrong at the meeting? What had her father done now?
“Everything okay?” She put her guitar down, ignoring the fear. “How did the meeting with the team go?”
He didn’t turn. “Your father wants you returned to Boston in twenty-four hours.”
Callie took a steadying breath. Okay, so that wasn’t anything she hadn’t expected. He wasn’t going to give up wanting her back and she’d always known that. “I see.”
“The team wants to return you since they have no proof that your father’s a sadistic motherfucker and because he can damage their reputation.” His voice was utterly flat. “I told them they needed to get that proof since the only way you’re going back there was over my dead body.”
A bolt of shock went down her spine. “But won’t that put your place with them at risk?”
He lifted one shoulder. “So? If they’re not prepared to save a woman in danger, then I don’t want to be a part of their team anyway.”
She put her hands in her lap, an odd guilty feeling pulling at her. “You can’t put your job at risk like that, Jack. Not for me.”
“That’s not your call to make.” He turned around finally, his intense gaze meeting hers. “I haven’t made a decision yet anyway. The team’s leader told me he’d bring you back to Boston himself if he had to and so I thought we’d head out of the city, get away before he could. But one of the other team members told me to give her twelve hours to see if she could change his mind.”
“But what about that press conference that Dad called? And the police?”
“She’s handling it.” The look in his eyes was very, very direct. “If she gets the team leader on our side, there’s a chance he could get your dad off your back forever.”
Forever? She could be free of her father just like that?
She blinked. “Seriously? He’d have the power to do that?”
“He’s the money behind his operation and judging from the way the others talk about him, then yeah, I’d say he does.” Jack’s gaze shifted to the doorway all of a sudden. “You can have the room.”
“What?”
But he was already striding toward the door, clearly intending to leave.
Anger licked up inside her. So, after dumping the fact that he was basically putting himself and his job on the line for her, he thought he could simply walk out? No freaking way.
She’d been hoping to discover why he was doing this, what it was that drove him to protect a complete stranger to the extent that he’d steal her away from her father. And not only that, choose to saddle himself with her for however long it would take until the threat her father posed was over.
It wasn’t that he loved her or even cared a huge amount for her, she knew that. Or at least, not her personally. No, there was another reason, a deeper reason, one she’d already sensed. And she wanted to know what it was.
Except she wasn’t going find that out if he left, was she?
Completely ignoring the fact that she wasn’t fully dressed—she’d been in the middle of a shower when another couple of bars of her song had occurred to her, so she’d rushed out to get them down before she forgot them—she slipped off the bed and stood right in front of him, blocking his exit.
He came to a stop, that emerald gaze of his meeting hers, the impact of it making her soul shiver in reaction. “Get out of the way, Princess.”
His voice was very rough, very deep, and she was conscious of his nearness and of the heat that was pouring off him. His expression was so hard, the scars on his face making him seem utterly forbidding.
But she liked him like this. Excitement began to beat like a drum inside her head, a steady rhythm that had her breathing getting quicker, desire beginning to climb high.
Yes, she should step aside, let him leave, yet she knew she wasn’t going to. Because she would never get enough of the challenge and thrill of him.
Because she wasn’t done with him yet.
“Why are you leaving?” She didn’t move. “You didn’t like my song?”
“No, I liked your fucking song. But it’s better for both of us if I’m not around.”
For a minute, too shocked by the fact that he’d liked the music, she didn’t quite take in the second part of the sentence. “You really liked it?”
“Yeah, I did. Now, get out of the way.”
Only then did what else he’d said sink in.
“Wait a minute. What do you mean it’s better for both of us if you’re not around?”
His green eyes glittered. “I mean, I can’t be around you right now.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
Her breath caught. The glitter in his eyes had turned into a hot, green flame, making it obvious what he meant.
A shiver brought goose bumps rising all over her skin. He was so very tall, towering over her, all tightly leashed strength and controlled power and . . . God. She could feel the heat coming off him like he was going up in flames right in front of her.
Yes, God yes.
“That doesn’t mean you have to leave.” She didn’t bother to hide the husky note in her voice. “You know I want you.”
“No, that’s exactly why I have to leave. I told you I’d protect you. And that includes protecting you from me.”
“Why?” She stared up at him, the desire and the thrill that came with realizing her own power over him building inside her. “Why the hell do you think I need protection from you?”
He went quite still but the look in his eyes blazed all of a sudden. “You’ve got no fucking idea, have you? You think I saved you. That I’m some kind of good guy, some kind of hero.” He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them so they were mere inches apart. “Because I’m not, Princess. Don’t let these scars fool you into thinking I’m something I’m not.”
Perhaps she should have backed away, because there was no doubt that he meant what he said and that he totally believed it. And sure, she knew he was dangerous, she’d felt it the moment he’d walked into the club that night. It was in the way he walked, in the scars he carried around with him, in the aura of menace that surrounded him wherever he went.
But he’d never scared her. No, it was the opposite. That danger turned her on, excited her, made something inside her brave, because she knew—she absolutely fucking knew, right down to her bones—that Jack King would never hurt her. He might be rough and yes, up in the plane there had been a little bit of pain with the pleasure, but since the moment she’d met him, he’d done nothing but protect her.
So whatever the hell he thought he was, he was wrong.
She lifted her chin, not moving one inch. He was fully clothed while she was next to naked, only her thin cotton T-shirt and pair of lacy panties protecting her modesty, but she didn’t feel vulnerable or weak.
No, she felt strong, like she could take on anything.
“Okay, so if you’re not a hero, then what are you?” she demanded. “Come on, tell me.”
He gave a harsh laugh that was as far from amused as it was possible to get. “You really want to know? Okay, these scars? They’re from a grenade in an ambush. Fuckers were using women and children as bait and I walked right into it. The kids died. The women died. The only one who didn’t was me.”
Her throat closed, her heart squeezing tight for him. “Okay, that sounds awful. But I don’t understand why that makes you a monster.”
His mouth twisted in what looked like a snarl, the scars pulling at it, twisting it even more. “We had intel that suggested it was a trap and that we shouldn’t head in for a rescue until we had a better idea of what was going on. But I didn’t want to wait. I thought we could handle it no problem. I had a couple of guys questioning me, but I didn’t listen. The women were crying and the kids were screaming . . .” A muscle leapt in his jaw, the look in his eyes razor-sharp, pinning her where she stood. “It was my mission. Mine. And I couldn’t wait. I headed right in and all those fucking people died because of that decision.”
“So? Intention matters. You wanted to save them, Jack. You didn’t purposefully go in there to kill them.”
But that snarl on his face became even more pronounced and suddenly his hands came up, his fingers closing around her upper arms, so tightly that she nearly gasped. “You think that’s all of it? No, Princess. That fucking barely scratches the surface.”
Her heart began to thump harder. The story he’d already told her was terrible, but it hadn’t been his fault. He’d wanted to save those people, not hurt them, and in his impatience he’d made a bad call. That happened. He couldn’t take those deaths on himself, no way. So it made sense that there was more, didn’t it? Because there had to be and she wanted to know what it was.
His hold on her was tight, but she loved the strength in his grip, the pressure of his fingers on her skin excited her.
So she didn’t struggle. She merely stared into his green eyes, sharp and edged as cut glass. “What else is there, Jack? Go on, tell me.”
He shook his head, the way he was staring at her making her feel like all the air in the room had suddenly vanished. “Why aren’t you scared of me? You should be fucking scared of me.”
“I’m not. I never have been. I know you’ll never hurt me.”
“But what if I want to hurt you?” There was a raw note in his harsh voice and somehow he’d pulled her closer, so there was barely any space between their bodies. “What if hurting you is exactly the kind of thing I want to do?”
No, she still wasn’t scared. Because the leashed violence she sensed in him, the tightly controlled rage, and he was really angry, no doubt about that, wasn’t directed at her. She didn’t know quite where it was directed, but she’d get that out of him.
The feeling inside her definitely wasn’t fear though. There was the excitement that beat hard in her throat and the heavy ache between her thighs. He was so close, the hard wall of his chest almost brushing her hardened nipples, the heat of him against the bare skin of her legs making it difficult to breathe.
She held his gaze, the rebel inside her rising up in response. He was the one who called to that part of her. The free spirit her father had tried to crush.
He was the one who made her brave. “Do it then,” she said softly, distinctly. “Hurt me. If you can.”
He bared his teeth at her and then he jerked her forward, his hard, scarred mouth was on hers, his hot, muscular body pressed up against the length of her. And all she could think was yes, fucking yes.
The kiss was as brutal as the one on the plane, his tongue pushing deep into her mouth, his teeth scraping her lower lip, then biting down. A sharp pain shot through her, arrowing straight down between her thighs, making her tremble, making the desperate ache there worse.
She struggled a little, not because she wanted to get away, but because she wanted to touch him. But he wouldn’t let her go, the fierce grip he had on her upper arms only getting tighter. He bit her lower lip again, harder this time, making her gasp and arch against him, the pain and the press of his chest against the sensitive tips of her breasts a tease that had her trembling.
Angling her mouth on his, she kissed him back, answering his savagery with her own, giving as good as she got. Nipping and biting at him, wriggling in his grip to incite him even further.
He growled and wrenched his mouth away, looking down at her, intensity burning in his eyes. She could see teeth marks in his lower lip—her marks. The sight set her on fire.
“Down,” he ordered thickly, letting go of her upper arms and putting his hands on her shoulders, forcing her onto her knees in front of him.
She went without protest, panting, her gaze going helplessly to his zipper and the outline of his cock pushing against it. She’d done that to him. She’d made him hard.
His fingers were in her hair, gripping on tight and pulling her head back, forcing her to look up at him. Light from the window behind him threw his face into shadow, the glitter of his green eyes and his scars making him look like some kind of demon.
God. So fucking hot.
Her pulse hammered in her head as his fingers tightened in her hair and his free hand went to the button on his jeans and undid it before moving on to the zipper, drawing it down. He went slowly, each movement purposeful, making it very, very clear what he wanted her to do.
Excitement caught her by the throat and she wanted to watch him pull down the cotton of his boxers, wanted to see him get himself out. But the grip in her hair made that impossible. She could only look at him, up into the deep green of his eyes. There were flames there, flames and darkness, and she’d never been more exited and turned on in her entire life.
“I want to see,” she demanded thickly.
“No.” The word was flat, unequivocal. “Open your mouth.”
Her heartbeat got even louder. She’d never done this before and quite frankly, never even thought she’d want to. But apparently, she did. She really, really wanted to.
She did as she was told, looking into his eyes. Letting him see that she was into this, that she wasn’t going to break just because he was holding her hair tightly.
And of course, since it was a challenge, he answered it.
Suddenly her mouth was full of him, heat and hardness, smooth skin and salt, sliding between her lips, over her tongue, going deeper and deeper until he was pressing against the back of her throat.
A helpless groan escaped her. It was a lot and fast, making her eyes water, but she blinked away the tears, not wanting to give him even one excuse to pull back.
His gaze bored into hers, gauging her reaction, his pupils expanding, his breathing getting shorter, quicker. His lips had peeled back from his teeth in that savage snarl, flames leaping in the darkened emerald of his eyes.
This was what he was. Raw and uncompromising and demanding. Nothing held back.
He made something dark in her heart bloom.
She raised her hands, not to pull him away, but because she was desperate to touch him, but before she could, he said, “No,” low and guttural. “You don’t get to touch me. Not yet. This is my fucking show.”
Damn him. She had half a mind to ignore the order and do what she wanted, but she had a horrible feeling he’d pull away and if there was one thing she didn’t want it was for him to pull away.
So she lowered her hands, trying to normalize her breathing, shivering as the taste of him began to hit her. God, he was delicious. She wanted to suck him, wanted to lick him, but she had no idea how she was supposed to do that if she couldn’t use her hands.
She needn’t have worried. He gathered all her hair up on top of her head, gripping it in one fist, and then with the other he reached down and gripped her jaw, his fingers pressing hard into her flesh. Then, holding her steady, he drew his hips back, then thrust forward in a long, slow movement. And again.
And again.
Another groan escaped her. He tasted so good, the feel of his cock in her mouth, the smooth glide of it erotic in a way she never thought it would be. Did he really think that this would hurt her? That this would frighten her away?
She kept her gaze on his and didn’t hold back the noises that escaped her, letting him know that she was loving this, that she wanted it.
His expression became even more savage, and he did something with his wrist, tightening his hold in her hair, causing pinpricks of pain to erupt all over her scalp. His fingers gripping her jaw tightened, the thrust of his hips getting faster and he pushed his cock even deeper.
She took it, relished it, the pain making the throb between her legs even more acute. She had no idea how that even worked, but somehow, it did.
The combination of his heat and his strength and the scent of male desire made her feel powerful. Because even though he was holding her immobile, she had the most vulnerable part of him in her mouth and she could hurt him if she really wanted to.
He began to move faster, the flex of his hips relentless, and she knew he was pushing her. But she simply stared back, loving the sharp pain of him pulling her hair and the ache in her jaw every time he thrust deep, stretching her lips wide.
He was beginning to shake now, his breathing getting ragged, the snarl on his face vicious, and with a sudden flash of insight, she realized that in some ways, she was stronger than he was. That she wouldn’t break. He might. But she wouldn’t.
“Fuck, Princess,” Jack growled. “Fuck.”
His grip on her became savage as he gave one last thrust. Then his whole body stiffened and he threw his head back, the tendons of his neck standing out, groaning as he came down the back of her throat.
She swallowed him down, the thrill of seeing a dangerous man like him shaking simply because she had his cock in her mouth turning her on even more. The pressure of her own desire made her want to touch herself, and as his vicious grip in her hair and jaw released and he drew himself away, she slipped a hand between her legs.
Only to have him jerk her hand away. “No,” he said thickly. “You don’t get to come until I say.”
Her throat ached like she could still feel him pressing there and when she spoke, the words were hoarse. “I’d like to see you try and stop me.”
A stupid thing to say.
Her heart thumped hard in her chest as the flames in his eyes leapt again. Then he reached down and grabbed her, pulling her up off the floor to her feet; then, in a casual display of strength, he lifted her and tossed her onto the bed.
Callie lay there for a second, panting, readying herself to get off it, make him chase her, but then he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, dropping it onto the floor. Then he got rid of his boots and pushed down his jeans, taking his underwear with them.
She froze, unable to tear her gaze off him. She’d seen him naked before, through her bathroom door back in Boston. But now it felt different. Now he was undressing especially for her and she would get to touch that amazing body, run her fingers over the ridged scar tissue that climbed up his left side, only partially hidden by the colors of the dragon tattoo that covered it.
She wanted to touch it, was desperate to. The contrast between his scars and the smooth skin of his broad chest and chiseled abs fascinated her, and she wanted to feel the difference. Trace the cut lines of his muscles and that incredible tattoo with her fingers as she looked into his eyes, watching what she did to him, seeing his reaction.
Her breathing was getting even faster now and when he came onto the bed, prowling up it like some great cat, she was torn between reaching for him and going with her original plan, which was to try to get away so he’d chase her.
But she was too slow and he made the decision for her, grabbing her hips, jerking her down the bed and underneath him. She gasped as his bare skin slid over hers, the heat of him scorching her, and then she was being pressed down on the mattress, the weight of him coming on top of her.
He didn’t allow her any time to get comfortable, his mouth covering hers almost instantly, ravaging her. She groaned, putting her hands on his shoulders, pushing at him, wriggling and struggling, wanting to feel his irresistible strength.
Jack cursed against her mouth, then grabbed her wrists, forcing them up and over her head, holding them back against the pillows. Then he kept them there with one hand, while with the other he jerked her T-shirt up and over her head. She went still, so excited she couldn’t breathe, knowing he’d have to release her wrists in order to get her T-shirt off and that she’d take the brief chance of freedom to fight even harder. Yet the moment he let go of her wrists, he somehow managed to wind her T-shirt around them at the same time, the fabric pulling tight, trapping her.
Excitement gathered even tighter inside her, the feeling of restraint pushing her higher.
“You like tying women up?” she panted as he leaned back, his gaze drifting down her body, lingering on her bare breasts. “Or is it just me?”
He didn’t answer, reaching for her panties and jerking them down her legs in a series of hard movements that aroused her even more.
She shivered and tried to sit up, but his gaze flicked to hers, intense and hot, freezing her in place. He didn’t have to say anything, she knew he wanted her to keep still.
“Make me,” she said aloud, purely for the hell of it.
The dense green of his eyes gleamed and without a word, he reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his T-shirt. Then before she could move, he’d wound the fabric around her ankles and pulled it tight, tying them firmly together.
This time the deep, electric thrill of it pulsed the entire length of her body.
He watched her, again obviously gauging her reaction.
“I thought you were going to hurt me.” She felt drawn tight as a telephone wire, little trembles shaking her. “So far hair pulling and a rough blow job isn’t really cutting it.”
His mouth twisted and she thought it might have been a smile, but then all thought went completely out of her head as he moved closer, straddling her before putting his hands on either side of her head and leaning over her.
Her breathing began to slide out of control as those hot green eyes burned into her, mere inches from her own. The heat of his body was astonishing, the scent of him driving her half out of her mind. He wasn’t touching her anywhere but she could feel him against her skin and it made the fact that her hands were bound beyond frustrating.
“Untie me,” she demanded. “I want to touch you.”
Again, he didn’t reply, merely leaning down and giving her another hard kiss. Then he sunk his teeth into her bottom lip, delivering a sharp pain that made her jerk and gasp, and her hips lift. As if he’d touched her clit directly.
She opened her mouth, lifting her head to try to kiss him back, but he was already moving away, his teeth scraping the delicate tendons of her neck, tearing a gasp from her, before his lips settled at her throat.
His kiss burned like an ember pressed directly against her skin and she shuddered, her back arching, wanting more. The ache between her thighs was relentless and she was desperate to spread her legs, relieve it somehow, but since he’d tied her ankles together, she couldn’t. And the restriction made the ache even worse.
She shuddered as his hot mouth moved down from her throat, then gasped once more as his lips brushed over one exquisitely sensitive nipple. He did it again, softly, lulling her with gentleness before taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking hard.
A strangled cry tore from her, the suction almost on the edge of pain. Then he nipped her and it became pain, bright and sharp and yet somehow delivering a pulse of the most intense pleasure deep in her pussy.
“Jack,” she whispered, shuddering all over and unable to stop as he repeated the nip, delivering yet more pain before soothing it with his tongue, then sucking hard again. The contrasting sensations made her pant, made her writhe, made her shift her hips, desperate for something to relieve the relentless pressure.
He merely moved his mouth to her other breast, torturing her, teasing her, inching her close to the edge of orgasm yet not touching her where she wanted it most. Perhaps he was trying to make her beg, and if so, he was going about it the right way, because she would. If that’s what he required, she would.
“Please . . . Jack . . .” She couldn’t stop the words that slipped out, her voice sounding husky and desperate. “Please . . .”
He lifted his head from his torture of her breast, his gaze burning. “Is this hurting you, Princess? Are you in pain now?”
Bastard. Was that what he was doing? Making her hurt with pleasure? Making her so desperate to come that it was almost pain?
Good. He could try that. But if he thought she couldn’t take it, if he thought this would scare her, he could think again.
“I can handle it,” she said hoarsely, staring at him, daring him to do his worst. “I can handle you.”
He gave her another of those scorching glances before he moved, shifting down her body, his hands coming down on her hips, the heat of his palms on her bare skin making her gasp for breath. Then he gripped her, holding her still as he shifted his body until he was lying over her bound legs, his weight pressing her down into the mattress. His head lowered and she felt his breath against her stomach, so close to her aching sex that she nearly whimpered. He moved again, nuzzling gently against her curls and she tried to lift her hips, desperately seeking pressure or friction, anything that would relieve the need that was driving her insane.
But he held her down with that incredible strength, making it so she couldn’t move. Then before she’d had time to even gasp, he put his mouth directly over her pussy.
The sensation was electric, like she’d been struck by lightning, and she bucked against him as his tongue teased her clit, an orgasm crashing over her without warning, tearing a scream from her throat.
It stunned her, overwhelmed her, and all she could do was lie there and shake as the aftershocks pulsed through her. But clearly Jack wasn’t finished, because he didn’t move away. He kept teasing her clit with his tongue, then licking through her slick folds. She groaned, overloaded with pleasure and struggling a little to get away. He didn’t let her go. Instead he used his fingers to spread her open as much as he could, adjusting the angle of his mouth and sliding his tongue inside her pussy.
Callie shuddered and twisted, because it was almost too much, and yet he was holding her down, making her take it. Driving the pleasure from too much to not enough. She panted, writhing, because the feel of his fingers on her slick flesh and his tongue pushing inside her was making her insane. And for some reason the fact that her legs were tied together only made it worse.
She knew she was saying stuff, hoarse, desperate words pouring out of her mouth, but she couldn’t stop them. His mouth was systematically destroying her piece by piece and she seemed to have completely lost control.
Maybe it should have frightened her, but she hadn’t been frightened by anything he’d done so far and she wasn’t frightened now. It felt like she was riding a giant wave that kept building and building, or a roller coaster that was climbing higher and higher. And she couldn’t get off. All she could do was hold on tight as the wave began to peak and the roller coaster began its descent, crashing down, speeding so fast, yet another orgasm rolling through her, making her arch up into his mouth and strain against the fabric binding her. The pleasure was astonishing and it seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of it echoing through her, drawing hoarse cries from her throat.
Mercifully, he pulled away from her after that and she lay there staring up at the ceiling, her heartbeat like a symphony in her head, like something from Beethoven or Wagner, so loud she couldn’t hear anything but that. Her cheeks felt wet and her throat was hoarse, and she didn’t think she could move if she tried.
Okay, maybe he’d broken her. But if this was what it felt like to be broken, then she didn’t care. He could break her anytime, that was for damn fucking sure.
She lifted her head at the same time as he gripped her hips again and flipped her over onto her stomach. Turning her head against the musty smelling quilt, she tried to twist to see what he was doing, because if it was wringing another orgasm out of her, she didn’t think she could do it.
But then he pulled her up onto her knees and she heard the rustle of foil. And she began to pant, her whole body drawing tight in delicious anticipation. Then she felt heat against the backs of her thighs, the head of his cock pressing against her pussy. She groaned as he slid inside her, her tender flesh stretching, making room for him. He hissed, his fingers digging into her hips, gripping her tight. Then he shifted his hips, his cock sliding out of her, then slamming back in again.
So good. She didn’t think she could do this again, but it looked like she was wrong. She could do this again. She wanted to.
He thrust again, deeper, his palm coming down on her left butt cheek at the same time, the sound of flesh hitting flesh resounding through the room. She jerked, the pain sharp and hot, yet twining with the pleasure, with the feel of him inside her and making it somehow brighter, more complex, more intense.
An intricate rhythm, a fascinating melody. Building her up, making her strong.
She shoved her hips back against him, moving with him, and he must have taken that as a go-ahead, because his palm came down again. And again. Timing it with each thrust, pushing her higher and higher.
“You want to be mine, Princess?” he demanded roughly at last, harsh and dark, just like his soul. “Because this is what it means. I’ll take everything you have and then some.”
Her thighs were shaking and she was trembling, another orgasm just out of reach. And quite frankly, right in this moment, she couldn’t think of anything better than being his. “I don’t care,” she gasped. “You can have it. You can have everything.”
And as soon as the words came out of her mouth, he suddenly hooked one arm around her waist, hauling her back against him and angling her hips so he could drive deeper. Then she felt his fingers push between her thighs, finding her clit, stroking her and stroking her as he continued to fuck her. Slamming himself into her over and over.
She came screaming into the quilt, barely conscious as his rhythm suddenly got faster, wilder, harder. Until the arm around her waist tightened and she was held hard against him, his hips bucking, a low guttural sound breaking from him as he found his own release.
And she was lost in the music of it.