Marked as His by Em Petrova

twice…then on air.
    In a second he was poised at her center, his expression fierce and eyes black. “This isn’t going to be a one-time deal, Santana. Understand?”
    Did she? All she needed was fucked—long and hard by this tattooed god.
    She nodded, arched upward.
    And joined them together .
    •●•
    Paxton couldn’t stop running his tongue over his lips, tasting Santana’s delicious flavors. He hadn’t had nearly enough time to taste her properly, but he planned to remedy that.
    They had all night.
    He jerked his hips, dragging his cock through her tight inner walls until he felt the need to roar. Her liquid heat enveloped him. Between that and her snuggling next to him while confiding her most painful memories, he was in too deep.
    Hell, he wanted deeper.
    He yanked her hips into him. “Put your leg on my shoulder,” he panted.
    She did, and he sank his teeth into her full calf. So womanly, so sexy. His balls were never going to be the same.
    The broken bedpost flopped and the headboard smacked off the wall.
    Her breasts bounced and small squeaks burst from her. He slowed, unwilling to go too fast. He’d told her this wasn’t a one-night stand, but who knew what she’d try with him next. Maybe calling the cops on him, as she’d thought of doing to Tommy.
    He stole a kiss, swirling his tongue over hers until he felt her pussy squeezing his cock to the point of pain. He covered one breast with his hand and kneaded it as he moved his hips with slow, maddening thrusts.
    “Paxton,” she breathed.
    “Higher. Go higher with me. God, I wanna be so high with you.” He’d never been into drugs but this was better than anything he’d ever done as a kid.
    Her hair spilled over her breasts, over his fingers. He tweaked her nipples until they were dark pink points. Her nails scraped his ass then up to his shoulders.
    Then she did it—moved that certain way. Angling her hips and taking him a fraction deeper.
    Lights burst in his vision and he threw his head back as need rushed up from his balls. He came in short, fast bursts, unable to breathe, looking into Santana’s eyes as she came apart around him.
    •●•
    Santana slipped a long T-shirt over her head and contemplated crawling back between the sheets with Paxton. As she let her gaze travel over his long, tattooed body, she came fully awake.
    Pushing a hand through her hair, she turned from the bed. What had she been thinking to sleep with him?
    She barely knew him. A fucking club guy, to put the cherry on the cake. Damn. How was she going to get out of this?
    She could throw his ass out the door and tell him to have a nice life.
    Cuffing him to the bed again held some appeal.
    Or she could just call the cops and have him removed from her condo.
    “I swear you’re loud when you’re thinking,” he mumbled.
    Her gaze snapped to him. One eye was cracked from under his arm. Her body fired on all cylinders at the sight of dark eyes and the shadow of beard she could still feel with savory deliciousness on her skin.
    “Maybe I’m just thinking of getting into the shower.”
    He shot a look at the clock. “At four a.m.? Nice try, love.”
    After spending almost twenty hours with him, she felt strangely close to him. Like being trapped in an elevator with people. You heard their stories and learned their fears.
    Except Paxton hadn’t poured out his guts as she had.
    She went for the cuffs.
    Before she could reach the rings, he was on her. Huge body slamming her into the mattress and pressing her down. She kicked but her legs were firmly trapped under his long ones.
    “Get…off.” She could scarcely draw breath.
    He leaned over her, breath hot and not at all fetid like some guys at four a.m. Actually , he smelled a little like…her.
    Lust speared her and she fought it off.
    “I have to work.”
    “You don’t go in until seven. We have a few hours.”
    “To what? Go see my father?”
    He sighed, the force strong enough to peel the skin off her ear.