His cupped hands moving under her bottom, he lifted her up, withdrawing almost completely. She started to protest, but when his hot mouth fastened greedily on her breast and sucked hard, Heather gave a soft cry. Her cry turned to a keening moan as he lowered her once more onto his thick, swollen instrument of pleasure. Whimpering, she clung to him, her arms and legs gripping, trying to hold him inside her.

He tortured her with exquisitely slow thrusts, driving deep, only to withdraw as he raised her up. With each surge he sucked more strongly at her, his wet mouth searing her as he slid her up and down on his shaft.

Heather writhed against him, clenching him tightly within the depth of her body. “Sloan…” Her hands gripped his shoulders, she began to move helplessly, shamelessly, frantically.

“That’s it… ride me, baby … harder … faster.”

His hands gripped her buttocks, working her up and down in rough, powerful strokes, in cadence with his thrusts.

In only moments, her breath was coming in sobbing gasps. Blood surging, heart pounding, she strained wildly against him. She thought she might die from the brutal flames that licked and seared her senses, but Sloan’s hands kept urging her on, moving her in a merciless, maddening rhythm that wouldn’t stop.

Her body burned and shook for him; her flesh took on a life of its own, trembling and shaking and dissolving. A scream of pleasure pulsed deep in her throat as the long, endless orgasm quaked through her.

The wrenching, tearing release was violent enough to shatter her. Sloan held her convulsing body still for his thrusts, catching her sobs in his mouth, but he couldn’t hold back much longer. His rough excitement matching her own frenzy, he gritted his teeth, but the sweetness of her hot, tight body destroyed his shaky control. He surged upward. His passion suddenly exploding, he rammed into her, pumping hotly, groaning his savage release against her mouth as wave after wave of grinding pleasure ravaged him.

It was a wild, delirious coming, so powerful it left him grasping for breath.

Even in the shuddering aftermath, when the fierce rapture subsided, he could feel the delicious clasping and gripping of her body around him. Passion slaked, Sloan sprawled weakly in the chair, with a limp Heather still clinging to him.

After a long moment, he managed to stir himself. With her legs wrapped around him, their bodies still joined, Sloan slowly stood and carried her to the bed, where he lowered her beneath him.

Still sheathed in her hot, moist center, he let his weight settle over her. His lips nuzzled her flushed face with a tenderness as devastating as the wild loving had been.

“You okay?”

She barely had the strength to nod. She could forgive his savagery. She had felt the same fierce urgency, the same reckless need.

“A man likes it,” he murmured hoarsely, “when his woman goes wild.”