He had taken her relentlessly as if he were some primal beast claiming and conquering. He was never the play it soft kind of man—in the bedroom or out of it—but how he took her surpassed even him. Something about her felt like a drug that he got one taste of and craved more. He hadn’t taken her just once, or twice; he had come inside her all night. Ride ‘em hard was an understatement. He had taken her long, deep, and overpoweringly so for hours until he collapsed on top of her unable to move to do more than lick, kiss and nip her neck. She had come. He knew she had enjoyed it because she had come each time, moaning, gasping for breath and even screaming out his name. And the way her walls constricted on his penis fueled his furry even more. She was the match and he was the gasoline waiting to set the forest on fire. One moan from her, one inhaled breath, pushed him harder, made him drive deeper. Control was not an option. And now she lay here with him, her hair disheveled and falling across her shoulders and over the curve of her breasts.
What do You think about Kill List (Special Ops #8)?
