“Yes. Oh, God, yes, please. Please.” He had found an angle that nudged her G spot, and Imogen almost forgot to breathe as he hit her over and over.

She could feel the fullness of him, feel the throb, his growing loss of control, and she raised her hips, anticipating both her orgasm and his. But Ty yanked back all the way out of her, panting, and dropped his mouth to her. Imogen didn’t even have time to protest before she was caught by the current and dragged under to the different kind of ecstasy his tongue offered. Raising her arms over her head, she gripped the sheet and squirmed as he tortured her with long licks over her clitoris. It was almost too much, her body sensitive and taut, her legs moving restlessly, feet finding the bed rail to rest on for a better grip, a way to hold herself in place, to ground her under his assault.

When he sucked her clitoris, she arched up off the bed, a gasp flying out of her mouth, but Ty didn’t let her stay up. With his hand on her chest, he pushed her back down, moved up, and entered her again.

“Ohmigod,” she managed, before she lost the ability to speak.

Then there was nothing, no thought, no words, no anything but the feel of him deep inside her, taking her, their bodies colliding and slapping. Imogen’s own excitement grew hotter still when Ty broke his silence and began to let out a grunt of pleasure with each stroke. It was a thrilling, satisfying sound and she dug her nails deeper into his back, needing to hold on, needing to feel him.

Ty pulled out yet again, his movements fast and jerky, and Imogen sucked in her breath at the loss. “No, Ty! Please . . .”

His mouth was on her again and all the logic she had been born with, all her ability to reason and rationalize, completely disappeared. She disintegrated into an insensible, babbling mass of nerve endings, moan after moan emerging as her eyes rolled back in her head and her arms fell to the bed. She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, could only enjoy an ecstasy so acute it was nearly painful.

She didn’t know if it was a minute or ten before he lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal, and entered her again. This time, she was too insane with want, too close. He stroked once and she felt it rising inside her. When he stroked a second time, harder, her orgasm burst, hot and explosive, from deep inside her, and she yelled out—a warning, a triumph, she wasn’t sure—but she wanted him to know that this was it, this was the best orgasm she’d ever had. Ever. Ever, ever.

“That’s it,” he said, smoothing her hair off her forehead, then clutching a handful hard enough that her head tilted. “Come for me, babe.”