. . simple possession, in its basest of forms.She was so tight around him; he could feel her body pulsing and trying to accommodate him, her hips arching and rocking as she came to grips with the sudden, stark pleasure of being both pinned and pricked so unexpectedly.He hadn’t so much as moved, beyond claiming her inside and out, and yet she was soaking wet and panting already. Clint reached down and tugged the nightie over her head, hating even the flimsiest of obstacles to the joining of their flesh, top to toe.Tongues danced, lips sucked, nipples pinched and tweaked on both sides, and then he reached under her and clenched that still sore, cute little rear of hers that he’d so recently tended to, forcing her even closer against him to avoid his grasping hands, making her groan in a way that had him wishing they were on an island of their own, where no one would ever hear her scream, in pleasure or in pain.In lieu of the island, he covered her mouth with his and dragged himself out of her so slowly that she was begging him to take her before his hips had made it halfway back.Her answer was his most evil chuckle, which, to her, was false advertising. There wasn’t an evil bone in his body .
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