Page 28 of Lost in the Wild

When he palms my boob, my back arches automatically, pressing into his touch. My whimper is needy as hell. He’s already teased me, damn it. I’m ready! I’m there!

And Rowan must see the desperate glint in my eye, because he hushes me and rolls onto me fully, hitching my knee higher around his hip. The hard line of his cock skates along my most slick, tender place, and every time Rowan sucks in a heaving breath, our fronts press together.

He’s searing hot. So solid and manly, his chest and arms dusted with dark hairs. As he ducks his head to kiss my throat, a wonky patch of his hair cut catches my eye.

“Shoot.” My hips roll, chasing the blunt head of his shaft, hoping to coax him inside. “I need to go over that bit behind your ear again.”

Teeth scrape against my throat, and Rowan grunts. “Hm?”

“Your hair. It’s wonky behind your ear.”

His laugh rumbles right the way through me, all the way down to the pelt. My nerve endings jangle together like wind chimes.

“Not now, sweetheart. Can’t you feel how badly I need you?” Rowan thrusts gently, sliding against my seam, and I stop breathing for a second. “We’re not stopping to trim my damn hair.”

“I didn’t mean now—”

His hips shift without warning, the blunt head of his cock lining up with my entrance. It’s big, big enough that doubts flit across my mind, but then he’s pressing forward and the words dry up on my tongue.

Of course he’ll fit.

Even if it stings at first. Even if the pressure squeezes all the oxygen from my lungs. Even if I pant and moan and smack at the brown pelt below us, wound so tight when there are still inches yet to go.

“There she is.” Hot kisses trail along my collarbone and up my throat before Rowan’s breath puffs against my hair. He sounds strained, like he’s hanging on by a thread too. “Feel that, Evie? Feel how well you’re taking me already? Christ, you’re so perfect. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock.”

My head spins, and the cave is all blurry. When I squeeze my eyes shut in a long blink, the firelight glows golden behind my eyelids.

So good.

So freaking good.

Gah!

“Evie?” Rowan has stopped, pushing up to blink down at me with concern. He’s stopped, right when I need that stretch and pressure, that feeling of being filled, more than I need my next breath.

“Keep going,” I gasp. “Oh my god, keep going.”

Fierce satisfaction and determination settle over the wild man’s handsome features, and then he thrusts forward again, harder this time.

An inch or two deeper—then he withdraws to let me breathe.

In, then out.

In.

And out.

Pushing deeper and deeper each time, until the backs of my knees are sweaty and my toes curl behind Rowan’s back. Until we’re sealed as tight as we can humanly go, sweat mingling on our skin in the heat of the fire.

“Okay?” Rowan asks, his voice ragged.

“So okay,” I tell him, my teeth chattering from the onslaught of sensation. “Holy shit. Feels so good. Why haven’t I done this before?”

A low growl fills the cave, and Rowan’s hips draw back before slamming into mine. My boobs jiggle with every punishing thrust as the Wild Man of Starlight Ridge pins me to his pelt and lays his claim.

“Because you’re mine,” he says between thrusts, licking a stripe up my neck. “You’re mine, Evie. That’s why.”

No arguments here.

---