He swore, gritting his teeth, driving into her as she rode him hard. Rode him rough. Matching his out-of-control hunger. Matching his savage. His wild cat. He drove her up twice. Fast. Brutal. Listening to her music, the panting sobs, the pleas, the chanting of his name. He felt every sound vibrating right through his cock. Each time he took her over the edge, she gave that to him, biting down hard with her small teeth, sinking them into his shoulder, saying his name. Her hot, silken muscles so tight, clamping down to seize him so tight he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

She never stopped moving. Lifting her hips, riding him harder with each orgasm. Her face was a study in pure pleasure. Her eyes dazed. Lips parted. He fucking loved that about her. When she gave herself to him, she gave him everything. He tipped her farther, needing deeper. Needing to bury himself so deep she could never get him out. He pounded into her, his thick shaft driving through those tight, scorching-hot folds, jackhammering through her tight muscles, while the flames burned him clean.

He took her up a third time and knew he couldn’t hold out this time. “Again, baby, give me that again,” he said. It was his. Her orgasms. Her body. All of her. Heart and soul. She’d given that to him, and nothing was going to take it away from him.

Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. Little mews escaped and still he took her higher. Pushing her limits. He felt the score of her nails along his back, heard her sob, but she kept riding. Kept slamming her body down to meet his. Because he’d asked for it. Because he’d asked.

Then her body was rippling around his. Ecstasy. He felt the tidal wave start somewhere in his toes and sweep up his thighs to boil in his balls. He slammed home three more times and then planted himself there, feeling the eruption, the hot jet of his seed, the release that swept him away with her. Her tight sheath gripped him hard, clamping around him like a vise, holding him to her, in her.

He took his time, letting his lungs have air. Just holding her. Staying where he wanted to be. All the while, her fingers sifted through his hair, caressing. Stroking. Her body stayed soft, melted into his. Boneless. Pliant.

“I love you, Siena.” What else could he say? He’d said it all. She’d seen him at his worst so many times, and she still held on tight to him. Still gave him everything.

“Let’s let our leopards run, Elijah. I think they need it,” she said softly. Still not moving. Still holding him tight, her legs wrapped around him, her heels digging into his hips.