The emotions threatened to build as she gave in to the kiss and returned it with the same ferocity, the same hunger, which it was given. Focusing on the pleasure alone was all she could do. If she let herself feel, if she allowed that dark corner inside her, where Rafer always dominated, to open then she could be lost forever.
The sensual, dominant, and forceful plundering of her mouth was only the precursor to the pleasure, and she knew it. She could feel what was coming. She could feel the flames building, the sensations becoming stronger, piercing deeper than they ever had before. As though the primal anger, the rage that burned so deep inside her, had only this outlet to find freedom.
His hands pushed beneath the shirts, moving to her back to unclip her bra, and dragging a hungry moan from her throat. A wild, feverish heat burned through her womb. It spreading to her pussy, to the swollen bud of her clitoris, and made her drunk on the need.
The lace and silk cups of her bra loosened, rasping over the tender nipples as his hands moved to cup the swollen mounds.
His fingers found the tender tips, gripping them firmly, sending a furious burst of pleasured pain through them as his fingers worked them sensually. Milking them. Sending fingers of fiery, agonizing pleasure tearing through them straight to her womb.
She could feel her juices gathering. Liquid hot, sensitizing her pussy further.
She should be furious. She should be fighting him tooth and nail. She should never give in to the dominant, forceful taking of her senses.
But this was Rafer.
He was dominant.
He was forceful.
His head jerked back, but only because he was quickly pulling the sweatshirt and T-shirt over her head.
He tossed them to the floor before pulling the straps of her bra over her arms and throwing it aside.
She had a chance to fight; to escape. Instead, she pulled at his shirt, buttons popping, scattering heedlessly to the floor as she tried to tear it from his shoulders. Nothing mattered but touching him. She needed to feel his flesh against hers. She ached for it. Her body pulsed with the overwhelming hunger for it.
“Damn you,” she cried out furious with him, with herself, because once he’d touched her, she’d been lost. She was lost. His lips moved to her neck, raking over the sensitive nerve endings as the pleasure pouring through her rocked her senses. “I won’t let you do this to me.” But she let her head fall back, trembled at the feel of his tongue licking over it. “I won’t let you—” She wasn’t going to let him steal her heart, too.
“Who’s asking your permission?” he growled. “Shut the hell up and give me your kiss. Damn you, you’ll fucking be the death of me.”
His lips came over hers again, hungry, seeking, his tongue meeting hers and creating a wave of powerful sensuality that that threatened to overpower them.
Cami was only barely aware they were moving, gravitating to the living room. There was no time to make it to the bedroom. There was no patience to find the nearest bed.
There was no way she could have navigated the stairs. There wasn’t a chance in hell she wanted to hold back to make it up the hall.
She wanted him now, just as quickly as possible, and she wanted all of him.
Nothing mattered now but the blazing, agonizing need consuming her, tearing through her. It was like being forced on a wild, rapidly spinning merry-go-round that refused to stop. Her senses were spinning with each touch, with each lash of sensation whipping through her.
As she was backed into the living room the fiery, biting kisses that ate so hungrily at her lips moved to her neck. His hands went to the snap and zipper of her jeans as the need for flesh on flesh whipped through her senses.
She was pulling at his shirt, one hand beneath it to feel the warmth of his skin, touching his flesh, the other jerking at the loosened edges and fighting to push the material over his shoulders.
Desperate hands, hers and his, tore at metal tabs, at zippers at buttons moored to fragile cloth. Their clothes and her boots were jerked off, cast aside, leaving them blissfully naked. Their hands hungry for bare skin stroked and caressed as Rafe tugged her to the heavy, thick rug before the warmth of the blazing fire.
As they went to their knees, Cami became the aggressor.
She remembered that first night, five years before, much too well. Remembered each sensation of controlling the heavily engorged flesh of his erection, working it inside her and crying out at the pleasure. Moving over him, her thighs had straddled his hips, the sensation of controlling his hunger had made her drunk on the pleasure.
She had controlled each thrust. She had controlled each sensation, and the power had been heady. The remembered ecstasy, the sheer rapture found at the end of that wild, impulsive ride was too much to resist.
“Let me,” she whispered desperately as he moved to force her back to the rug. “Let me ride you Rafer. Let me have it again. Oh God, I might die if I don’t have it again.”
If she didn’t have the pleasure and exquisite sensation of controlling a wild sexual beast as she moved above him.
Her hands pushed at his shoulders, her lips moving to his chest, to the flat, hard male nipples. His hands dug into her hair as her teeth scraped the tips, rasping over them, licking them as the salty male taste intoxicated her senses.
Reclining on the rug as she pressed him down, Cami followed, a wild, feral need flowing through her. It pounded in her veins, clenched her pussy, and rippled through her womb.
Staring down at him, watching the corded strength rippling through her body, Cami felt a moan rising inside her chest. The wicked sensuality gleamed in the intense blue of his eyes as his hand lowered. His fingers curled around the heavy width of his cock.
Long, powerful fingers began a slow, deliberately teasing rhythm along the thick shaft.
“Take it, Cami,” he dared her, his hand stroking up the length of his cock, squeezing the wide, engorged crest as it throbbed imperatively. “Come on, baby, show me how bad you want to fuck me, or do you just want to talk about it?”
It was a dare that hadn’t been required. A challenge she had intended to meet whether it was issued or not.
“You talk about it,” she ordered, feeling powerfully erotic, sensual. “Come, Rafer, tell me what you want. Tell me if you’re enjoying it.”
Swinging her leg over his thighs as he reached down to grip the shaft of his cock, Cami swore she could hear a sob echoing around her.
Her sob.
It was a sound rife with a need that went far beyond the lust she had promised herself she would stop. It sliced straight through her senses, and she swore she could feel the pleasure straight to her soul.
“Ah yes, Cami-girl,” he groaned. “Take it. Show me how much you want my dick.”
Sensation ricocheted through her senses as the blunt, widened crest of his cock slid through the thick, heavy juices coating her cunt. The heated, blunt crest grazed the hard, nerve-laden bud of her clit, circled it, then slid back down to tuck against the clenched entrance of her pussy.
She hadn’t had sex since the night he had given her a child.
She had tried, God knew she had tried, to replace his memory with another man. She had dated; she had even gotten close. A few times, she had even enjoyed the kisses and the touch of several of those men. But it had simply been enjoyment. There had been nothing wild, nothing that even came close to the pleasure she’d found with Rafer. No other man had ever tempted her to rush her heart and her sanity as he did.
Rolling her hips, she felt the crest parting her entrance further, already beginning that slow, pleasure-pain-edged sensation that left her feeling drugged, high on building ecstasy.
Rafer gripped her hips with one hand as he paused, waiting, his gaze narrowed as he watched her.
The world seemed suspended, poised on this moment as she stared down at him. The thick head of his cock just barely breaching at the entrance to her sex. Almost penetrating her, heating her, making her so hungry for him, so desperate to fuck him that her fingers curled against his chest into fists as she fought to hold back.
She trembled.
Shuddered.
“Rafer,” she whispered his name, wishing she could convince herself it was a dream. That she could live the dream, awaken when morning came with no more repercussions than a dream would bring. “Don’t let it end,” she begged, still poised above him and taking only the very tip of the throbbing flesh.
“I have you, love,” he promised, the guttural, raw sound of his voice whispering across her senses. “Let it last, Cami. Don’t rush it, baby; ease into it all you want.”