“Another drawing?” Tessa stands at the door of the bedroom, in a tight-fitting black dress and high heels, all dressed up for the party she’s throwing Dylan for his birthday. Her blond hair hangs around her face in soft waves. She’s so pretty I gape at her.

Dylan is an idiot if he doesn’t want her.

Then again, maybe he likes his women a bit more spunky?

I twist and glance at my back in the mirror. I’m wearing an off-the-shoulder black T-shirt with the logo of our band, and the drawing Zane made on my upper arm two days ago is still visible. I’ve taken pains not to scrub it when showering, to keep it on me a while longer. It’s a hawk, wings spread, its beak curved toward the inside of my arm. When I hold my arm close to my body, it’s right over my breast, as if it’s about to bite my—

“Wasn’t it a bird last time, too?”

It was. He likes drawing birds on me—birds in flight.

“So what are you going to wear, the skirt or the pants?” Tessa, obviously fed up with my lack of answers, picks up the items from the pile of clothes on my bed. Black stretch pants and a short black skirt with ruffles. “I’d say the skirt.”

“Why?” I take it from her hands. I’m already wearing ripped black tights. I look tiny next to Tessa and awkward, like a boy. She looks like a supermodel.

“Boys like seeing your legs. And there will be plenty of boys tonight.”

“That wasn’t so subtle,” I mutter. “I mean, I get that you’re worried about Zane breaking my heart, but I’m not interested in boys.” Just Zane. “Isn’t he going to be there?”

“He’s been invited, but he never replied. He’s been like that lately. It’s driving Ash nuts. But I’m sure if someone tells him you’ll be there, he’ll come.”

I smile in spite of myself. A rush of warmth fills me. “Do you think Zane would like me in a skirt?”

“Zane likes you in just about anything, girl. He’ll have to be pried off you with tongs if he comes tonight. He’s acting like he’s in heat when he’s around you.”

I laugh. “He’s cute.” And hot like hell.

“Yeah… I’m worried.” She sits on top of the pile of clothes. “I told you how Zane is with girls. I mean, are you just friends or…” She wiggles her fingers.

I think of how he has always watched me, with such heat in his eyes, and how he made me come on his sofa that night after the disaster at the park. I think of how he let me hold him two days ago, how he spoke of his sick sister, how he asked me if this was all a game to me.

“I don’t know,” I confess. “We aren’t anything. We just hang out together sometimes. I like him.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “We all like him. He’s an awesome guy. But this business of drawing on you, and the way he looks at you…”

So she noticed, too. Heat climbs up my neck. “Like what?”

“Like he wants to lick every inch of your body.”

Oh God. I clutch the skirt to my middle and sink into the bed beside her. “He’s gorgeous.”

“One hundred percent,” she agrees. “And normally I’d encourage you to jump his bones and have his babies, but this is Zane we’re talking about.” She sighs. “Truth is, I’m worried about him, too.”

“Because of his sister being sick?”

Tessa’s gaze snaps to me. “He told you about that?”

I shrug. “Why, is it a secret?”

“Sort of.” Her gaze hardens. “What else has he told you?”

“Nothing.” I lick my lips, feeling nervous under her scrutiny. “Just that she’s his only family. That she took him in, and looked after him, and now he can’t help her.”

“Oh God, he told you all that?”

“Come on, Tessa, it’s not much. I swear that’s all, and it’s so vague.”

“You don’t understand.” She bites her lip. “You don’t know Zane like I do. You’ve met him only a handful of times.”

“So?”

“So Zane doesn’t open up like that to people he doesn’t know well.”

Yeah, I realized that. “Is that a jab? I’m getting to know him. It takes time.”

“No, I mean he’s letting his defenses down for you. He’s acting weird.”

“So what does it mean?”

“I don’t know. All I know is… This isn’t like him. He’s letting you in. And if you hurt him, that could destroy him.”

* * *

The bar is dim and noisy. It’s also too warm. The music is a mixture of Latin and pop, and I wince inwardly. Not my kind of thing. But the guys are there, drinking and talking, and I let Tessa lead the way.

Zane isn’t with them. That’s the first thing I notice as we approach their table. Disappointment drapes over me like a leaden blanket. I was really hoping to see him.

“Hey, Dakota.” Ash drags a chair to the table for me. “What’s up?”

“Hey.” I like Ash, especially since he got together with Audrey, and I get to meet him often. He’s a cool guy, quiet and intense, although he smiles a lot more now.

His brother Tyler is there, too, with Erin, and she waves at me. I’ve met their son, the cutest little boy. The way they look at each other makes me shiver. They’re so in love, it’s mind-blowing.

Rafe comes toward us, carrying beers. He slides one in front of me, and I take it without a comment. I don’t have a fake ID, so I’ll take whatever I’m given—at least as far as drinks are concerned. Tessa’s words of warning echo in my head, but I can’t help looking around, still hoping for a certain boy to appear.

“Where’s Dylan?” Tessa asks, scanning the bar as well.

Looks like I’m not the only one disappointed tonight.

“Relax, he’s on his way.” Tyler places his cell phone on the table. “Said he had to run an errand first.”

“He’d better. It’s his birthday we’re celebrating,” Tessa mutters and takes a long swig from her beer.

Whoa. Looks like I’m the designated driver tonight. Which shouldn’t be a problem, but not seeing Zane here makes me want to get plastered and forget how much I want him. How much I like being with him.

Tessa is right to be worried about me. Even though she told me how Zane treats girls, I haven’t stopped a second to wonder whether I should keep away from him. Not sure I can.

“He’s been acting off lately,” Ash says, sipping his beer. “He said something about his dad being back home.”

“Crap. That’s never good,” Audrey says.

“Who are you talking about? I ask.

“Dylan.” Audrey frowns down at her own beer. It’s still full. “Without his mom, he has to take care of his two brothers, and his dad has mental problems, or so we think. Dylan won’t talk about it.”

“Need to talk about this with Zane,” Ash says, and I turn to look at him, to see if he’s serious.

Tyler is nodding, too.

“Zane isn’t exactly in the right state of mind right now to deal with this.” I look at Tessa for support, but she’s staring at something at the back of the bar and doesn’t seem to hear me. The guys give me skeptical looks.

“Zane’s the strongest of us,” Ash says.

“But his sister…”

“She’s been sick for a while now. What you saw, Zane getting shitfaced and vanishing from the world… It happens from time to time.”

Crap. “So he’s not worse off than usual?”

They share an uneasy look.

Rafe shrugs. “Sunday night when he wouldn’t answer the damn door or the phone… That rarely happens. But it has happened before.”

“And that episode at the park?” I ask.

“Yeah, what the fuck was that?” Ash whispers. “But even I don’t know half his triggers.”

I make a mental note to ask Ash about this later. No matter what he says, he seems to know Zane much better than Tessa.

“We should keep an eye on him anyway.” Tyler tugs Erin onto his lap and wraps his arms around her. “Just in case.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing, motherfucker?” Rafe raises his beer bottle. “Bottoms up.”

“Shush, Dylan’s here.” Tessa gets up and waves. “Here!”

Dylan stands above the crowd. Well over six foot tall, with shoulders like a lumberjack and pale short hair. Very short. As he approaches, I notice he’s lost the purple streaks and is now sporting a crew cut. The light catches on the silver hoop in his lip.

“What’s going on?” He bumps fists with the boys and bends to kiss the cheeks of the girls. When he reaches Tessa, he smiles and nods.

God, she’s so in love with him. Her eyes sparkle as she stares back at him, and her hands shake.

“Happy birthday, Dylan!” Erin and Audrey giggle as they clink their bottles and drink.

He raises his bottle in response. “Damn. I was hoping you forgot all about it.”

“As if we’d forget.” Tessa rolls her eyes. “Are you crazy?”

He’s a handsome guy, and I can see why Tessa has fallen for him. The boys tease him about his new haircut and ask about Zane. It sounds like Dylan dropped by Damage Control on his way here to convince Zane to come.

Not that I’m interested in this conversation or anything.

“Pisser said he wasn’t coming.” Dylan winks in my direction. “But when I told him Dakota would be here, he changed his mind.”

Holy shit. Tessa wasn’t kidding. I realize I’m gaping and shut my mouth.

Ash laughs and toasts me. Everyone turns to look at me, brows raised.

My ears are burning. But then where is he? Another scan of the crowd doesn’t reveal any gorgeous, tall, broad-shouldered guys with Mohawks.

“Next round’s on me,” Dylan says, then turns to talk to a blonde with a body like an hourglass, and I see the light in Tessa’s eyes dim.

Damn. For all her words of wisdom about avoiding having my heart broken by Zane, she hangs on to someone who doesn’t seem to realize how in love she is with him. And if she won’t follow her own advice, why should I?

Caution, that little voice in my head pipes up. You’ve been with a crazy guy like Zane before. You know what it did to you. You should know better by now.

I should, true, but logic is swallowed up in heart-pounding excitement when I finally spot Zane, leaning against the bar, dressed in a black muscle shirt that shows off his tattooed arms.

My mouth goes dry, and my heart accelerates when he tilts his head to the side and grins, then leans over the bar and says something.

To a brunette dressed in a tiny top that shows off her cleavage and trim waist. She laughs at his words and reaches over to stroke his cheek.

My eyes feel hot. There’s a whistling in my ears. He leans toward her, and she laughs again and shakes her head. I can’t look away. It’s like a train wreck.

Tessa had warned me. I never thought seeing him with another woman would make me feel so crappy. I want to punch that woman in the face. I want to slap him and storm away like a drama queen.

But I don’t. I feel sick to my stomach. So I just put my beer down quietly, slip out of my chair and head out.

* * *

“Dakota, wait up! Wait!” The voice isn’t Tessa’s. Maybe Audrey’s?

It doesn’t matter. I can’t stop. My combat boots thump dully on the sidewalk. Wrapping my arms around me, feeling chilled although it’s a warm night, I try to put as much distance between myself and the bar where Zane is flirting with the girl behind the bar.

Jealous? a snotty little voice in my head asks.

Shit. I walk faster, breaking into a jog, letting the rhythm of my steps settle my racing heartbeat. My left leg sends a little twinge up my spine. I ignore it.

That was stupid of me, falling for Zane. Good thing this happened before I fall harder. Before he breaks my heart. It’s only held together by a Band-Aid and a string, and if that goes…

Why did I think I was ready for this?

“Dakota!” Audrey sounds breathless. I remember she’s wearing ridiculously high heels, like Tessa, and I slow down. A few months ago she twisted her ankle running like that.

“What?”

“Jesus. Wait.” She slows to a stop and bends over, hands on her knees, wheezing. “I saw. I saw you.”

“Saw me?”

“Saw you looking at them.”

I stomp away from her. “Yeah. Tessa warned me. Stay away from Zane, blah, blah, blah. I know, okay? I know. Learned my lesson now. I’ll stay away from him.”

“No.” She straightens, her red curls wild. “Listen. That girl at the bar. That’s Megan.”

I blink. “What do I care about her damn name?”

“She’s just a friend. Of Zane’s. Damn, you run fast.” She wipes a hand over her mouth.

“They were awfully friendly with each other.”

“That’s just how they are. I pinky swear. I wouldn’t lie to you.” Audrey glances back, and I see Ash coming our way.

I need to go before he reaches us. I don’t want to think more about this. “I don’t know, Audrey.”

“Megan wants Rafe. And Rafe... Well, we don’t know, but Zane is trying to get them to meet.”

I shake my head. It all sounds too easy, too convenient. “I saw the way she was looking at Zane.”

“No, Dakota. Wait…”

She curses as I turn and start running again. How did she look at him? Fondly, my mind supplies, but I wonder about it now as I hang a right and run down another street. Random streets, random thoughts. I didn’t even see his face, his expression. Could they be just friends, he and Megan? Thinking back, I recover vague memories of them talking and laughing together in parties. Are they really just friends?

Audrey would have no reason to lie about this. She hasn’t exactly encouraged my interest in Zane. I remember once we visited him at his apartment, the time I first met him. Asher had been staying with him, and Audrey wanted to talk to him. I remember taking off my blouse to show Zane my ink—and to shock him a little, because he had a mask of steel I wanted to peek behind—and Audrey had gone all scarlet. Afterward, she pretended she didn’t know me. It was so funny.

Not so funny anymore.

I turn into another street and slow down again, trying to get my bearings. Problem is, I don’t know this area well, and I didn’t pay much attention when Tessa drove me to the bar, because I figured we’d return to her apartment together.

What I should do is give Tessa a call, and I reach for my bag—only to realize I don’t have it with me. I must have left it at the bar.

Brilliant, Dakota. Just brilliant. Absolutely fantastic.

I puff out a long breath and bury my hands in my hair, tugging a little, hoping to jumpstart my brain. No reason to panic. I’ll just keep walking until I find a familiar landmark, or else another bar where I can borrow a phone and call Tessa.

Right. No panic. I resume walking, kicking at the trash in my way—a can, a broken plastic cup, a shoe. I shouldn’t have run away. I’m not a quitter. If I was, I wouldn’t be standing here today.

I wouldn’t be standing at all.

A car honk sounds from behind me, and I walk faster. The street is deserted, and I don’t have my pepper spray.

The honk sounds again, and a pick-up truck appears next to me, the window rolling down. I see a familiar Mohawk and a pair of exotic dark eyes.

“Dakota?” Zane stares at me hard, his truck idling. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “What are you doing here?”

“I came looking for you.” His gaze is earnest. Holy crap, he actually came after me.

I can’t help a smile. “Thanks.”

“Hop in. I got your purse, too.”

He leans over and opens the door for me. I climb up and settle into the seat. His truck smells of exhaust, ink and faintly of cigarettes. I slam the door shut, and Zane gazes at me sideways, his big hands on the wheel.

“So where to? Back to the bar or home sweet home?”

“Home.” I swallow and look away. “I think I’m done for tonight.”

He gives a soft snort that I don’t know how to interpret and pulls off the curb. “You’re staying at Tessa’s, right?”

“Yeah.”

His scent overlays the scent of the truck—something dark and sharp. Delicious. I steal a glance at him as he drives, at his clean profile, the square cut of his jaw, his beautiful mouth. His inked arms flex as he turns into an avenue, the colorful designs shifting. I see black waves, clouds and blossoms.

My bag is on the seat between us. I grab my phone and send a text to Tessa, to let her know I’m okay and heading home.

“Did something happen?” He changes gears, and I’m entranced by the way his hands move, strong and graceful. “I mean, you ran out of the bar. We were worried.”

“I just needed air. Were you really worried?” Ah yeah, my mouth tends to spew out my thoughts without a filter when I’m around Zane. Crap.

He doesn’t answer my question and doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but he gives me a quick, crooked smile that makes my heart flip over. “I like your skirt. You have beautiful legs.”

I open my mouth and close it, then turn my face away. My cheeks are hot. He makes me feel like he’s the first boy to ever pay me a compliment. Like he’s the first boy I believe. The first I trust.

Ironic, on the heels of what happened at the bar. You’d think my trust would be shaken, that even if Megan is just a friend, I’d be more wary. But his solid presence next to me, the fact he left right after me, looking for me, makes me feel warm all over.

He turns into Tessa’s street and parks outside her building. He kills the engine, and the silence is deafening.

I suck a deep breath. “Thanks for driving me here. And for my bag.”

“No problem. Got your key?”

“Yeah.” I lean over and give him a peck on the cheek, then turn to open the door and get out.

“Dakota?” His voice is strangled, and I turn around to look at him. He’s trailing his hand over his cheek, where I kissed him.

“Yes?”

He lowers his hand and cocks his head to the side, regarding me. Emotions flash through his eyes, too quickly for me to decipher. Then he says, “I’m coming up with you, to make sure you’re fine.”

* * *

The short ride in the elevator is… interesting. He’s so close, it’s hard not to touch him as I turn to press the button. I can hear him breathing, and when the doors open, I brush against him to get out.

He follows me and leans beside the door as I unlock it. “Invite me for a drink?” he whispers. He pushes off the wall, his T-shirt stretching tight over his muscular chest and broad shoulders.

“Sure.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. “Come in.”

It’s not until I close the door and turn to face him that it hits me: Zane Madden is alone with me in the apartment. Holy shit. I mean, sure, we were alone at his apartment twice already, but that felt different. I had gone over to check if he was okay. This time he asked to come in. For a drink.

I turn toward the kitchen. “Let me check what drinks Tessa has—”

“No.” He’s at my back, his hands on my hips. “I had a different drink in mind.”

The front of his body molds against my spine, and his arousal is scorching hot through our clothes. A throb starts between my legs. When his breath warms my nape, I shudder and press back. His hands stroke down my arms, then slip around my waist.

“I want to taste you,” he says in my ear, and oh God, that makes me ache with need.

I’ve wanted him ever since I first saw him, that day at his apartment. I can try to fight it, try to convince myself it isn’t true. It’s no use.

He prods me forward, until I place my hands on the backrest of the leather couch and bend over. “What are you doing?” I whisper, breathless.

He lifts my skirt and runs his hands over my ass, stroking along the thin strip of my lacy thong. “Damn, you’re beautiful.” His voice is hoarse, and a tremor goes through me. “Spread your legs for me.”

I swallow hard, my mouth gone dry. “Zane…”

He nudges them apart with his knee and pushes me down more, so that I’m completely bent over the sofa. Not sure I like where this is going, I start to straighten—when he grabs my thong and pulls it up, so that it rubs over my throbbing seam.

I moan, the sensation going through my veins like lightning.

And before I recover my senses, he pulls my panties down, spreads me open with is fingers, and puts his mouth on me. Fire lashes through me as he licks me in sure, long strokes.

Something hard presses into me—his tongue piercing, my foggy mind informs me—and it sends lightning up my spine. His fingers move over me, touching my clit, pressing, and he never stops. His full lips press against me as his tongue drives deeper, spearing into me.

I cry out, lost to sensation. My legs tremble, my knees buckle, but he manages to catch me and support me. His stubble scratches my inner thighs, and his rough tongue burns me, the velvety softness of his lips a contrast that drives me crazy.

I’m going to come. It’s starting, I feel it deep inside me, the pressure mounting, cresting. As if sensing it, he rubs his fingers harder on my clit, and his tongue thrusts deeper. I clench hard and cry out again, sobbing his name as I come against his mouth. The waves of pleasure roll over me, drowning me. They go on and on as his mouth keeps eating me, tasting me.

He finally pulls back. Panting, I slide down to the floor, and he catches me, lowering me gently until I’m back in his arms, in his lap, held securely.

“You taste amazing,” he says in my ear, and his erection is harder than ever, pressed against my back. “Like strawberries and cream.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper. My body twitches with aftershocks. My eyelids feel heavy. I’ve never come like this before.

He nuzzles my neck. “I want you, Dakota.”

You have me, I want to say, but I just moan instead.

“Need to fuck you,” he says, and his hands move up to my breasts, cupping them. “Right now, right here.”

My body burns at the thought of him entering me. “Oh God, yes.”

He groans and pulls back.

Want to see him, want to watch every detail of his body revealed, but he won’t let me turn, keeping a hand on my shoulder. I hear him toss off his T-shirt, then his zipper opening, and finally the sound of foil being ripped.

Both his hands are now back on my body, stroking up my ribs, massaging my breasts through my blouse, turning my nipples into hard pebbles. My head falls back as the sensations overwhelm me. I’ve never been touched like this before, without seeing the person doing this to me, and although I can picture Zane’s face perfectly in my mind, it’s not the same.

It’s as if my senses have sharpened, throwing every touch into sharp relief. His fingers drag under me, opening me up, and bolts of pleasure shoot through me.

Oh God. “Need you,” I whisper, unable to take this any longer, shaken that I really do need him, like no one ever before. “Please, Zane.”

“Are you ready for me?” he growls in my ear. His broad chest is pressed to my back so that I can feel his muscles shift against me. His fingers push inside me, stroking me, and I’m going to fall apart again soon. Too soon.

“Zane…” I start to twist around, but his other hand grips my hip in a steel vise. His fingers slip out of me.

“Stop,” he grunts. I can hear his ragged breathing at my back.

I freeze. “I want to see you.”

“No.” His breathing is irregular, fast. “Fuck… I need to do this my way. It’s this way or not at all. Do you understand?”

What’s going on? It’s hard to think when his hand moves between my legs again, teasing me. I want to tell him to stop, but my brain is shutting down, giving itself over to pleasure.

“Trust me.” He pants at my back, and something large nudges my throbbing entrance. “It will be good.”

But no matter how much I want him inside me, filling me all the way, no matter how badly I want him to come undone, to lose control—I also need to see him, see his face as he comes, see his body, see if it’s as I imagined it under the clothes.

Get closer.

“Please,” I whisper, my breath catching as the broad head of his erection prods at my entrance again. “Need to see you. Can’t do it otherwise. Please, Zane.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” He shifts behind me, drawing away. I hear the sounds of him standing up. “This won’t work.”

Shit. I twist around. “Why? I’m not asking anything strange. I need to see you.”

He suddenly grabs me around the waist and lifts me in his arms. One minute I’m on the floor, the next I’m thrown over his shoulder, and then I’m dumped on my ass on the sofa. Zane leans over me and slams his hands on the backrest, on either side of my head.

“Why can’t I say no to you?” he growls, his eyes burning black. “I should walk out. I shouldn’t fuck you. I shouldn’t touch you. But I can’t fucking stop.”

I want to ask him why he shouldn’t do all these things to me, but I’m speechless. In the golden light of the lamp, his ripped torso is a work of art—taut muscles, defined pecs, a six-pack to die for and colorful ink everywhere—skulls, spiders, flowers, wings and a huge oriental dragon. His small brown nipples are pierced with silver studs, and I want to touch them, see how sensitive they are.

But then my gaze trails lower, and I lose that train of thought, too. Whoa. His pants are open and riding low on his hips, his briefs pulled down, and his hard-on juts out, big and flushed, pointing up. He’s so much bigger than I thought, and that’s not all. On the fully exposed underside, his cock is pierced with a series of silver studs, like a ladder.

A Jacob’s Ladder. Holy shit.

“Still want me?” he drawls, and my gaze shoots back up to his face. His expression is unreadable, his dark eyes flat.

He needs to ask? He’s gorgeous, and my body aches with need.

I swallow hard and lick my lips. “Why didn’t you want me to turn?”

His eyes harden, but he doesn’t reply. I place a hand on his chest, over his heart. It’s racing under my palm.

He grips my wrist and pulls my hand away. “No touching.”

I blink. I feel as if I’ve stepped into the twilight zone. “What?”

“You won’t touch me.” He leans closer, bringing that impressive erection closer, and my mouth waters. I want to lick it, taste the tiny bead of moisture shimmering on the crown. “But I will touch you everywhere.”

I frown. Is this a game? I’ve touched him before. Hell, I’ve hugged him, and he didn’t complain. So what’s this about?

“Say yes,” he whispers.

“Yes,” I say, because I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of not doing it, of not feeling him inside me. Of him leaving. “Yes.”

His eyes close, and he lets out a long breath. A small vein in his jaw ticks rapidly. I wonder for a moment if he thought I’d refuse, if he really doesn’t want to go through with this. If he regrets this already and would rather go—but then he pulls the open condom foil from this pocket and kneels between my legs to pull it on.

Giving me more time to study him—the way his abs contract and ripple as he rolls the condom on his rock-hard erection, over the metal balls of his piercings, the way his beautiful mouth purses in concentration, the way the muscles shift in his strong arms, making his tattoos move and dance. His long lashes cast shadows on his broad cheekbones. With his tall blue crest of hair, he looks dangerous and beautiful, like a fairytale warrior.

Then he straightens and strokes his thumb down my center, making me shiver and shake. “You’re smoking hot,” he breathes, guiding the tip of his hard cock between my folds. With his other hand, he grabs my leg and wraps it around his back as he pushes into me. “Oh fuck.”

A moan rises in my throat as he opens me up, stretches and fills me up like no one else has ever done before. It’s pain and pleasure, the piercings stroking the deepest part of me, and I need to move. I reach for him, to wrap my arms around him, push our bodies flush together.

But he grips my hands and presses them into the backrest as he slides the last inches in. His lips are so close I feel his breath on my mouth, but when I lift my head to kiss him, he turns his face away and snaps his hips.

Pleasure slams into me, the sting of the rejection washed away in burning need. I rock my hips against him, the slide of his hard cock inside me taking my breath away.

A dark grin lifts a side of his mouth, and he thrusts into me again and again. Shadows flash through his uptilted eyes as he moves in and out of me, his hands pushing mine against the leather, holding me in place.

But I need more of him, so I lift my other leg, curling it around his thigh, drawing him deeper.

His movements falter. He groans deep in his throat, his lips parting, and his cock swells bigger inside me.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps and pulls out only to slam back, as deep as possible. He bends his head, his teeth grazing my neck. “Christ, Dakota. Oh shit…”

His breathless moans and curses are so sexy I clench around him, another orgasm starting in my core. I can feel it roll through me. It’s like an explosion in slow motion, blasting through me in soft, then harder waves, making me wrap my legs around him tighter and hold on for the ride. The waves come faster now, cresting, crashing, making my whole body tremble, and I cry out, lost.

I can’t remember sex ever being so good. I moan softly, my mind blown away, my body still quivering with pleasure.

He’s still rock hard inside me, and his eyes gleam, half-closed. He’s panting as harshly as I am, and his arms shake. I can feel the tremor in his hands holding mine against the leather.

“What do you need?” I whisper as he rolls his hips, my voice breaking on another sharp wave of pleasure. “Zane…”

With a grunt, he releases my hands and grabs the backrest so tightly muscles stand out in his arms and chest, and tendons strain in his neck. He draws out, then slams back into me, again, and again. Faster and faster, building up pressure inside me again. Too much. I can’t… He nuzzles my neck, sucks on it, and his chest rubs on my breasts.

Oh shit, this can’t be… I’m going to come again.

The pleasure burns through me, rips me apart. I scream as I break into a million pieces, and this time he breaks with me.