Make Me Tremble by Beth Kery Page B

further into her body, applying a pressure with his pelvis the whole time.
    “There,” he exhaled, hearing her soft whimper as he pierced her slowly. She was so sweet, but her flesh resisted him subtly. He pulsed his hips, even more determined now that he felt the glory of her. He stared blindly at the corner post that held the canopy as he flexed back and forth, sinking further into her. Her gasps and soft moans fell on his ears, but this time he recognized her arousal. The sounds goaded him on, intertwining with the throb of his heartbeat and the exquisite sensation of penetrating her. A full, wild feeling swelled in him.
    His pelvis bumped against the curve of her ass. He pulled her back against him while he flexed, pressing his balls against her damp, tender outer sex.
    He felt so raw. So exposed. A shudder went through him.
    Her sharp, desperate cry pierced his haze.
    “Harper,” he bit out. Her reply was a deep moan. “Are you okay?”
    “Yes. God, yes,” he heard her mumble.
    “Good. Because I can’t take this anymore.”
    He drew out of her, a snarl twisting his lips as pleasure tore through him.
    He finally abandoned himself to it, driving into her again and again, their flesh slapping together in a taut, erotic rhythm, glorying in the perfect friction that both satisfied and prodded him onward at once. All the while, he was aware of her sleek body moving in tandem with him and of her sharp cries of excitement. But the madness of need was what ruled him primarily in those tense minutes of decadent pleasure.
    At first, he wouldn’t let himself look at her. His resources were strained to the limit as it was. He fucked her hard, drowning in her, while staring with fixed determination at the bedpost, the cabana bar . . .
anywhere
but at Harper. But as his strokes grew faster and Harper’s cries grew sharper, he found himself moving without thought of consequence. He drew out of her, his cock like a single slick, quivering, raw nerve, and reached for a pillow. He dragged it under Harper’s hip and gently pushed her onto it, so that she was facedown.
    “That’s it,” he praised, because when he’d released her wrists, she’d scooted her body into the precise position he’d wanted in his greedy possession of her. She arched her back slightly and edged her knees up on the chaise mattress, sending her ass up several inches off the pillow. He grabbed another pillow and shoved it under her. And there she was, full in his vision: her gorgeous copper-colored hair tossed on the pillows and across her elegant back, her lovely profile turned to him, her cheek flushed red, her lips parted as she panted, her round, pale ass poking into the air. He pushed back a plump buttock and glimpsed her glossy, pink sex.
    A groan ripped at his throat. Harper McFadden.
His
for the taking.
    Planting his hands on the mattress near her shoulders, he plunged into her. It was a full-fledged orgy of need. His feet clawed for a hold, and he found one on the wooden frame of the lounger. Anchored in place, his knees came off the mattress. Using his flexing legs to power him, he drove the full length of his cock into her repeatedly, heedless of anything but seeking his ultimate goal. It was selfish on his part. But that’s not what Jacob would have called those euphoric, desperate moments. To him, it was a clawing compulsion to finally burn deep inside her.
    He felt her tighten around him, and her sharp, wild cries finally penetrated his awareness. Her arms were outstretched over her head. She clawed mindlessly at the mattress while she climaxed around him, her ass flexing tight. He felt himself cresting at the vision. He took her with short, ruthless strokes intended to ignite.
    It felt like he gave all of himself . . . sacrificed everything, just like he had twenty years ago.
    As harsh shudders of orgasm began to wane, the sobering reality of that frantic realization slowly penetrated his awareness. It cleared his haze of rabid