Page 46 of Forbidden Access

His cock strained against his jeans, throbbing with unfulfilled desire. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to explode.

As she recovered, he stripped off his clothes, letting them fall to the floor. The bed creaked as he crawled onto it, making her eyes flutter open.

“Damian, that was…” She gave a shy smile. “Wow.”

Her flushed skin, the way her eyes shone when she gazed at him, and that soft, vulnerable expression on her face—hell, he wanted her so bad.

“That was the warmup,” he said, his voice low and throaty. Her eyes dropped to his cock and widened. What he saw there nearly sent him over the edge. No fear, no apprehension, just a quick gasp and a silent invitation. Heat surged through his body, the need almost too great to handle.

She grabbed at him as he collapsed on top of her, their bodies slamming together. His mouth hungrily found hers, as her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him close.

He positioned himself at her opening and slid inside her. She was wet and slick, and so goddamn hot he could barely hang on. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced—intense, raw, and completely consuming.

“Jesus, Thorn…”

She whimpered as he encased himself fully inside her. Holy fucking hell, he was drowning in her tight heat. It was all he could do not to shoot his load right there and then.

He tried to savor the moment of complete connection but didn’t have the control. It was too intense, and he was too thick and swollen, too close to the edge. He withdrew and plunged in again, harder this time, with more force.

She cried out as he buried himself deeper, feeling her soft folds envelop him, absorbing him like they were meant to be together. The perfect fit.

He repeated the motion, knowing he was fucking close to coming, but wanting to prolong the exquisite agony. She moaned as he pounded into her, over and over again, until she was shifting up the bed with every thrust. The headboard slammed against the wall, and her glorious breasts jiggled up and down with the force. Both their bodies were coated with perspiration.

He'd never seen anything more sensual. In this moment, she was totally and fully his.

Time seemed to blur as they moved together, matching thrust for thrust, perfectly in sync. He plunged so fucking deep that he worried he’d split her in two.

Her cries escalated until her orgasm hit. Her body convulsed, lifting high off the bed like a woman possessed. Her head tilted back as spasms rocked her body.

Her sudden tightness sent him flying over the edge. A groan tore from his throat, his entire body shaking as he let go. And then he was coming deep inside her.

Like a pressure valve had blown off, he emptied his hot seed inside her, over and over again, until he had nothing left to give.

CHAPTER 19

The piercing scream cut through the silence like a bullet, yanking Thorn out of the deepest sleep she’d had in days. Adrenaline flooded her system, pushing away the fog of exhaustion. Damian had made her reach heights she’d never dreamed of, never even knew were possible, but now that was the furthest thing from her mind.

She reached instinctively for the Glock under her pillow, the cold metal familiar and comforting in her grip. Her mind snapped into focus, heart pounding in her chest as she scanned the room, senses on high alert.

Damian lay naked beside her, his chest rising and falling steadily. He hadn’t stirred, hadn’t heard the scream, and was blissfully unaware of the danger that might be closing in on them.

Had she imagined it?

Had it been another nightmare, another ghost from her past?

But the hair on the back of her neck prickled, an old instinct warning her that something was off. Years of training told her to trust that feeling.

She peeled back the comforter and slid silently out of bed. The room was dim, the only light coming from the sliver of moonlight slipping through the partially open blinds. Thorn pressed her ear to the door, holding her breath as she listened.

The low murmur of a man’s voice drifted up the stairs, deep and menacing. It was followed by the shaky, high-pitched response of a woman. Thorn’s jaw clenched. Fear was thick in the woman’s voice—Isabella.

Definitely trouble.

Moving quickly, Thorn pulled on her leggings and T-shirt with the efficiency of someone who had done this too many times to count. She unlocked the door and edged her way to the top of the stairs, her body pressed close to the wall, out of sight. The voices became clearer as she crept forward.

"¿Has visto a este hombre?"

She knew enough Spanish to understand: Have you seen this man?

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