Page 31 of Moonlit Temptation

I kind of hated it, too.

It was too good to only be for a night.

We barely began and already I knew it wasn’t enough.

“Saint,” I cried as he pulled out, twisting my body into a new position. One that was more to his liking and had my vision dancing with dots of light.

His lips crashed into my shoulder, teeth grazing up my skin to my throat, to my jaw. His hands were anchored on my hips, keeping them where he liked. Where he was able to drive me wild as he drilled into me with the force of powered machinery.

Where I felt nothing, thought nothing, wanted nothing but him.

Saint, Saint, Saint.

His name was a chant, a prayer, a curse.

Saint, Saint, Saint.

I yearned to touch him, feel him. Mark him like he was marking me. But it was like he could see it on my face, in my eyes. With one hand leaving my hips, he grabbed my hands before I could move them an inch.

Tied around the wrists by his fingers, he raised my arms above our heads, stretching me out into yet another position.

God, the feel of him between my legs was delicious in a way I didn’t know existed. Could exist.

“Fuck, Madelayne. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled the words with lust and loathing. They mixed together in a deadly concoction.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Despite the rough way he was moving inside me, the iron grip he was holding me with, Saint pressed the most delicate kiss on my forehead, my nose, and finally my lips.

“Not even a thought in my mind, little dove.”

My overdriven mind short-circuited with the touch. It was such a contrast to everything about him–rough and primal, hard edges and possessive touches–that I felt my body falling. No. Finishing meant it was over and I wasn’t ready for that.

Saint pushed my wrists into the mattress, my eyes snapping to his. “Let go,” he whispered with the authority of a command. “I’m long from being done with you.”

I shook my head, though I didn’t think I could stop the feelings that were piling up inside me.

Saint ducked his head down and captured my bottom lip between his teeth. He bit and tugged as his hands dropped my wrists and cupped my breasts. They were heavy under his hands.

“Let go,” he commanded again. Louder, firmer.

I did.

I came with his name rasping between my lips. Saint quickly followed, his hips pinned to mine as he buried his face in my neck, and I swore my name escaped as he did.

I closed my eyes. All the energy had been zapped out of me. I couldn’t even bother opening them as I felt Saint roll off me and heard him shuffling around the room. I was acutely aware of water running, but I just lay on the bed useless and lost in the lingering ecstasy of what we did.

I knew Saint had returned when I felt a warm, damp cloth press between my legs. His touch was gentle, if not carefully meticulous, as he cleaned me up.

It was the softest, kindest gesture that had my heart swelling three sizes as he finished and wrapped me in his arms.

As I turned into his chest, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering how long these feelings were going to last.

After all, we only promised each other one night.

Too bad for my heart, I was lying.

A groan hit my ears as I woke to a dark room, the bed rustling with it.

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