Roughly, he shoved his arms under her thighs, folding her in on herself. She was secured to him, open and vulnerable. Spread wide. With the change in angle, the head of his dick nudged the perfect spot inside her on every wild thrust. Again and again, he pumped into her. Mating. Rutting. Pillaging. Her nails made his skin sing.

He felt his cock thicken and lengthen as his release became imminent. Wide-eyed, Maggie gasped, feeling it. He rammed into her harder, faster, grunting against her neck. Desperate to find release.

“Come for me now,” he commanded. “Don’t hold back on me, Maggie.”

“Silas!” She wasn’t quiet now. And neither was he. When she clamped down on his shaft, he lost his fucking mind on a long, guttural groan. He was coming with her. His entire body tensed as his climax exploded up from the root of his dick just as she closed those hellfire muscles around his cock. It was too much. Not enough. More than he could handle. He poured himself into her as she bucked and begged and came.

Gutted. Hollow. Sated. His orgasm ripped him apart and put him back together again.

Long after she quit quivering around him, he held deep inside her, knowing it still wasn’t enough. Knowing he would never be the same.

26

26

The man went from easygoing flirt to savage lover in a heartbeat. Maggie was consumed by Silas Wright from the inside out. Her ears were ringing from the orgasm that hit her so fast, so hard, she was still dizzy.

His cock was still buried in her. His body was pressing hers into the mattress. She couldn’t tell if she was being seductively smothered or if her cardiovascular endurance was so poor that two orgasms were the equivalent of a marathon.

Two orgasms that had exorcised every rational thought from her brain. There were no to-do lists, no schedules, no concerns circling when Silas Wright was making her come.

“Am I crushing you?” His voice was muffled by her hair.

“Maybe. I can’t tell,” she wheezed.

On a sigh, he rolled, reversing their positions. She sprawled across his chest with him still inside her. He was also still reasonably hard.

“How is that physically possible?” she murmured, her finger tracing a shape through his chest hair.

“What?” he asked, brushing his knuckles over one of her nipples. His eyes were closed, and there was a sleepy, smug smile playing at his mouth.

“That,” she repeated and squeezed her inner muscles around him.

He grunted and stroked a hand up and down her spine. “That is what weeks of fantasizing about you does to a man.”

“That’s a lot of fantasizing,” she mused. “Did I live up to your internal hype?”

Those gray eyes opened to study her. He slid a hand behind his head. “Baby, you surpassed it. My filthy fantasies have nothing on the real thing.”

“So it was good?” she clarified.