“That’s right,” he whispered, as her head thrashed on the pillow and tiny moans slipped through her lips. “Make some noise for me, baby. Make all the noise you want.”

He thrust deeply, and she moved with him. The sensation was wonderful and frightening. She began to spiral, and now it was not his loss of control that threatened her, but her own. Her fingers dug into the steely bands at his shoulders. Something was happening to her. Something wonderful. Something terrifying. If she lost control ... She opened her mouth and sobbed, “Stop!”

The sound he made was barely human, a strangled exclamation deep in his throat. This time she knew he wouldn’t listen. He had traveled too far and her request was no longer fair.

But he withdrew. This iron-willed man who could have overpowered her in an instant acceded to her wishes and fell back into the pillows, skin flushed, veins throbbing in his neck, chest heaving.

With his acquiescence, the shackles that had bound her for so long broke away, and joy took their place. She fell on him. Kissed him with her tongue. Took his hair in her fists as she reclaimed her womanhood and loved him with all her heart.

It seemed natural for her to mount him.

She slipped her leg over his hips and gradually took him into her body, his size forcing her to go more slowly than she wished so she could accommodate him. When she had completely impaled herself, she gazed down at him. His eyes were open, but glazed, his lips taut. She began to move, timing the strokes as little sobs slipped through her lips. He cupped her buttocks so she didn’t lose him, his fingers soothing her where they were joined.

She splayed her hands in the hair on his chest, arched her back, and rode him higher and higher. Her hair began to fly. She had become a glittering blond amazon who had claimed the mightiest of men to service her. He bucked, but she stayed with him, her thighs gripping his powerful hips. She was in command. He was hers to take.

He was blowing now. His chest heaved as he emptied and filled his lungs, an athlete reaching for the limits of his endurance. She understood then that he was determined she would shatter first. He was a man who thrived on competition, and in this particular game, second place earned the trophy. He didn’t know how it was with her. He didn’t understand that she couldn’t.

But there was something she didn’t understand. To him, winning was everything. And he wasn’t above cheating.

With his fingers, he found her most vulnerable spot. She gasped for air, her head fell forward. He deepened that thrilling, unfair touch. The room whirled around her, spinning faster and faster, and the boundaries between what was his and what was hers dissolved.

It couldn’t be happening. It never happened. . . .