Make Me Feel by Beth Kery

answers from Cyril about him, either. They entered his suite and he slammed the door after him. His frothing frustration spilled over when, without pause, she walked briskly toward the guest bathroom.
    He lunged toward her, grabbing her upper arm and spinning her to face him.
    “You’ve got me twisted in every direction, Harper.”
    “I’m
so
sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But
I’m
not responsible for your pissy moods.”
    He gripped her upper arms tight. “I haven’t spoken to Cyril since I saw him with you this afternoon. I wasn’t saying that you could hurt me because you have access to my life. I was saying it because I care about you. Too fucking much.”
    He saw her eyes widen slightly before he swooped down and kissed her. She stiffened at first, but he was so far gone, he didn’t care. He required her taste, her scent, the sensation of her soft, firm lips moving against his. He bit at her lower lip, demanding she join him in this boiling lust. Instead, she bared her teeth, pressed closer to his body, and nipped him back. He saw red. Her hands clutched hard at his shoulders, and her fingers delved into his hair. The feeling of her nails scraping his scalp made savage arousal tear through him. He opened his hands along her sides, encompassing her slender torso, and plunged his tongue into her mouth.
    Need assaulted him. He lifted her several inches off the floor and walked with her pressed tight against him. He set her on the edge of his bed, still feeding hungrily from her hot, responsive mouth. Everything seemed to be striking him in sharp, bullet-like flashes of awareness, like his brain was overloading with sensation. Her hands moved anxiously along his shoulders and neck, pulling him to her, urging him onto the bed. Before he came, however, he reached around her neck and unbuttoned the collar of her dress. He broke from their kiss, snarling at the deprivation of her mouth.
    He jerked her dress down, baring her breasts. They felt so soft in his hands, so firm and sweet, the tight, coral-colored nipples killing him. They were his to touch—for now—and that knowledge unleashed a desperate excitement in him. He heard Harper’s whimper through the blood pounding in his ears. The next thing he knew, he was pushing her back on his bed and coming down over her, clutching a condom in his hand.
    Everything was cast in a haze as he fed again from her mouth, and her supple body writhed beneath him, fueling his lust.
    Another flash of clarity came to him. He held his throbbing cock in his hand and was shoving her dress roughly up to her waist. There was a ripping sound of cloth, and he stared at the heaven of her pale, parted thighs and pink sex. He dipped a finger into her, growling at the sensation of her tight, lubricated sheath.
    His groan ripped at his throat as he entered her a moment later. He thrust, his eyes rolling back in his head at the slicing pleasure of being submerged to the hilt. The haze cleared as he stared down at her tense, flushed face, reddened lips, and eyes that were shiny with lust. She was stunning. So gorgeous.
    Harper.
    Supporting himself on the mattress, he used his free hand to reach for her wrists. He pressed both her hands to the mattress above her head, his gaze fixed on her bare, vulnerable breasts rising and falling as she panted. He kept his hand there, restraining her and bracing his weight at once.
    There was so much feeling inside him, he thought he’d explode from it. He wanted to feast on her breasts and her mouth. He wanted to taste every square inch of her skin. His hands itched to grab fistfuls of her lush, sexy hair. But he
needed
to take her now . . . to be buried deep inside her surrender.
    “You make me so crazy,” he grated out before he started to move.
    His bed shook. She did. He knew he took her hard, and that he was ruthless. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was like something else drove him, some savage force that