Wound Up. Kelli Ireland

into him. Her body came alive under his touch. Breasts heavy and core aching, she wanted him inside her. She craved him, needed him to stretch her and fill her and take her over the edge again and again.

      The sound of a zipper was followed immediately by crinkling foil. Seconds later, the weighted heat of his cock settled against her ass even as unseen fingers slid over her hips and down.

      “Sweet hell,” he whispered into her ear as he worked his way into her folds. “You’re so damn wet, baby.”

      “Please.”

      “I thought you wanted me to be the one to beg,” he teased, tracing his tongue along the shell of her ear.

      A desperate, choked laugh escaped her as she slapped her hands on the walls. “No more playing. Finish me, Justin. Please.”

      Her slick arousal coated his fingers as he dragged them forward to the small, firm knot of her clitoris. Several short, swift flicks and she came apart in his arms.

      Her hips bucked wildly, her breath came hard. Her eyelids slid closed. A deep keening escaped her. She shuddered, pulling a hand off the wall to clutch his and hold him closer as she rode out the crest of adrenaline and raw lust pounding through her veins, thick and viral. He scraped his teeth along the nape of her neck, sending her careening over the edge into a second brutally hard orgasm.

      Nothing made sense for several minutes—not the thundering of her heart, not the sound of blood rushing through her ears, not the way her legs had gone to rubber. She was lost in space and time, nothing more than a product of her various pieces.

      She was full and heavy, yet vacant, wanting.

      She wanted him buried inside her, wanted him to drive her to abandon, wanted him to use her body well.

      The images those thoughts conjured took her even higher, as did the knowledge it would all come to pass. She wouldn’t have to fantasize about Justin Maxwell in the dark. Not tonight. Tonight the man was manifest, the fantasy a reality—and the reality was superseding anything her mind had dreamed up, whether in the light of day or the darkest reaches of night.

      He calmed her, soothing her with words and fingertips and firm lips on sweaty skin. “That’s one and two. Now turn around.”

      Her legs refused to cooperate. Hot hands closed on her bare hips and spun her, pressing her bare ass against the cold wall. “Justin,” she said on a breath.

      “Hold on, baby.” His words were strained, heavy, full of his own sensual need. Grabbing her behind the thighs, he lifted her and pinned her to the wall with his weight.

      The heat of his arousal branded her, left her gasping as she reached for him.

      “Arms around my neck.”

      She complied.

      He lifted her higher, tilting her hips to receive him.

      The broad head of his cock breached her outer folds and she whimpered. “More, damn it!”

      “I don’t want to hurt you.”

      “Do it,” she pleaded.

      With one hard thrust, he seated himself to the hilt. His mouth crushed hers, swallowing her shout.

      She’d known he was large, but being impaled by him was a whole different thing. Stretched farther than she would have guessed possible, pain and pleasure hovered together, shining bright and dark on ecstasy’s horizon. Then he began to move with slow thrusts. Aching, heavy heat burned in her pelvis. Using his neck as a fulcrum, she pulled herself forward and nipped his ear. “Harder.”

      His groan vibrated through his chest and into hers.

      She shivered.

      Fingers dug into her hips. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

      He pistoned in and out of her with sheer strength, using his hands to draw her off his shaft before driving home over and over.

      Sweat slicked her hold on him as she tried to pull herself onto him even harder. “Please,” she said on a moan. “I need...I need...”

      His hand slipped between them and, as she rode him, found her clit. First contact nearly threw her off his length when she jerked, but he tightened his grip on her hip and set up a rapid thrumming in time with his thrusts.

      In seconds, Grace felt the release roaring toward her. “Don’t stop!”

      “I’m with you, baby,” he said on heavy breaths.

      The spasm of orgasm started in her pelvis and spread. Then she came apart in his arms. Head thrown back, she took everything he had to give. Sensation overrode the last of her common sense and unintelligible sounds rose from her throat.

      He sank his teeth into the soft spot between her shoulder and neck, and she reveled in the raw, animalistic behavior. Justin’s entire body tensed and he groaned loudly as his thrusts became erratic. The pulse of his orgasm rolled through her. She reveled in the power of it, the power she wielded to make this beautiful man lose his control here, now.

      The breath sawed in and out of her lungs even as her muscles went limp.

      He pulled her free and let her slide down the wall until her feet hit the floor.

      When her knees buckled, he caught her with his whole body, pressing her into the wall.

      “Sorry,” he murmured into her hair.

      “You’re apologizing?” Her gasp was lost to laughter.

      “For mashing you against the wall. Nothing seems to be working right at the moment.”

      Fighting to regain her footing, she stood and wrapped her arms around him. His jacket smelled faintly of his cologne, and she took a moment to close her eyes and bury her face in that scent before sweeping up her pants.

      “Drop the jeans, Ms. Cooper. I’m far from done with you. Far, far from done.”

      Grace’s belly fluttered in anticipation. Sliding her arms around his waist, she gave in to the urge to snuggle in closer.

      He held her tight, whispering against the crown of her head his intent to give her pleasure until the sun rose.

      The raw power he wielded over her pushed her closer to the edge of falling for Justin Maxwell—far closer than was safe. But there was time enough to distance herself. Tomorrow she’d let him down easy. Tomorrow...

       4

      HIS ASS AND ONE FOOT were cold. That was the first thought that went through Justin’s sleep-addled mind before the click of the room’s air conditioner further invaded his consciousness. Air-conditioning is clicking instead of whining? That meant he wasn’t at home. One eye squinted open, fighting to focus on the alarm clock’s huge red numbers—a few minutes after eight in the morning.

      The mattress moved as his bed partner rolled over and stole more covers. He grunted softly as he pushed up to his elbows and turned to look at the tangle of curls spread across the pillow. In the dim light, her hair appeared dark. He knew that wasn’t true. Grace’s hair was actually almost brown until she stepped into the sun. Then it blazed like flame. A truer, deeper red than he’d ever seen anywhere else.

      She was stretched out on her side of the king bed, her face sporting wrinkles from the pillowcase. Eyes acclimated to the dim light, he tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear and simply watched her. She was beautiful. Those cat-green eyes had expressed passion, reverence, humor and longing as they’d taken each other every way they could. Then, somewhere near six this morning, they’d fallen asleep tangled together.

      He’d never had a night even similar to last night. Considering the remarkable quality of the woman at his side, he wondered if he’d ever have another. He had a real connection with Grace, something that transcended the physical. He didn’t want to lose that, but he wasn’t sure how to keep it, either.