“Yes, that sound.” He licked the hollow of her throat and she made it for him again.

He held her bound in place as he spent long minutes kissing her. Lips and mouth. Jaw. Neck. It made her faint that he wanted her so much and yet took such exquisite time to taste her.

But his free hand shook a little. She knew he needed this as much as she did.

When the fingers of that hand brushed over her mound, she spread her thighs, rolling her hips. “Please.”

He hissed as he spread her open and drew a fingertip from her gate up and around her clit. “You’re so wet and hot. I love that your cunt is this way because of me. I love that here it’s just you and me, Gillian and Adrian, and you are the finest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He removed his hand and she gasped and then moaned when he licked his fingers and then kissed her. That taste, her pu**y mixed with his taste, the way he changed her even at that most basic level, knocked her utterly off balance until she nearly spun with it.

“Please what?” he asked into her mouth.

“Put your c**k in me and f**k me. Come inside me. I want you.”

He rolled and was on her so she wrapped her thighs around his waist to keep him from going anywhere. And then he was pushing in. She should have been embarrassed at how wet she was, but there was none of that between them.

“Oh god, English, you’re so good.” He pressed all the way home and paused.

She writhed and he hissed.

“More!”

“I’m not going to last very long if you keep that up. I want to rut on you. Mark you. I’m trying to take this slow.”

Oh. My. She shivered at his words.

She tightened her legs around his waist to draw him in deeper. “I don’t want slow.”

He let go of her wrists and grabbed the edge of the bed for purchase and, true to his words, let go of that control and began to f**k her in earnest. Not slow. Not gentle. And yet reverent. The tenderness even in such a raw moment brought emotion to her throat.

She scored her nails down his shoulders the way she knew he liked, the way she liked to mark him.

“Yes. Fuck yes.”

He delivered a series of bites and sucks across her chest, leaving a love bite on the side of one breast. He moved on her, in her, like a man barely leashed.

She reached down between them and fingered her clit. He whispered something close to a curse and his speed picked up. This loss of control, this frenetic pace, the intensity of his thrusts as he f**ked into her body made her swoon.

That he knew it, understood it and loved it as much as she did, was a gift she’d never cease to be thankful for. Even when he was a prat.

So close . . .

“I want to feel your juicy pu**y grip me when you come. Do it,” he whispered, his voice taut.

It was the hard nip to her left nipple that tipped her headlong into orgasm. She arched and rolled her hips over and over to meet his thrusts as he also drew close to climax.

Her body clamped down, inner muscles gripping him so hard that even without the way she writhed underneath him as she came around his cock, he’d have gone over. He came so f**king hard his head hurt.

Gaze locked with hers, with this woman he’d found in a completely unexpected way, he came home at last.