Page 43 of His Loyal Rebel

He slid his tongue against hers. At the same time, he stroked her with his cock—slow and deep. She brought her legs up and hooked her calves over his ass. His muscles bulged against her, and she slid her arms around his neck, pulling herself off the mattress, pressing her breasts against his chest.

All the while, his hips created a wave within her. She moaned into his mouth. The man could move.

The slickness of her body eased his way. She kissed him back, taking his tongue, loving it, sucking it.

He rolled with her until she was on top and her knees were planted firmly on the mattress. Not wanting to sit up and leave him, she took the kiss deeper, sucking his tongue while lavishing attention to it.

Whip pushed up into a sitting position and swung his legs off the bed. He manipulated her body, molding her to him until they were both sitting, entwined with each other. Able to wrap her arms around his neck, she used the new position to ride his cock, plunging completely down before stroking him again with her pussy.

Her stomach muscles tightened. Her need quickened.

She fisted his hair, rubbing her breasts against him. Throwing back her head, she gasped for much-needed air.

Whip's hands tightened on her hips, guiding her, helping her. Her core coiled. He effortlessly picked her up and pushed her down with little effort from her, but to feel.

And it felt wonderful and freeing.

There was nothing holding her back. She ran her hands through his hair, holding him close, consuming all he gave her.

A moan erupted from her, and he quickly swallowed the sound, keeping it between them. Frantic for release, she became swept up in pleasure. Her thoughts weren't her own. Her movements weren't her own. Her life wasn't her own.

It was all Whip.

Once she gave up holding back, preparing for disappointment and faced her fears, she exploded. Her spine bowed. Her fingers knotted his hair. Her body convulsed.

Whip held her down, taking it all with a groan of his own. She quivered as every muscle in her body relaxed. Her head fell forward, and she pressed her cheek against the side of his head, not wanting to separate from him.

What they'd done...was wonderful. It was more than anything she'd experienced. It wasn't sex. It was closeness, and sharing, and giving, and taking, and bonding, and...

***

"SIS?" WHISPERED WHIP.

Twyla remained limp against his body. Her head pressed against his shoulder.

He rubbed her back, trying to rouse her. His cock had slipped out of her several minutes ago, and the condom threatened to fall free of his body.

His body shook in amusement at her ability to fall asleep after having sex only made him want her again. He shifted, picking her up, and put her down on the bed.

She whimpered. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, inhaling deeply. Possessiveness took hold of him.

A spitfire that fought his every step. A survivor who held her independence tightly, not letting anyone in. A beautiful woman who bounced between seeing her worth and not believing others could see her importance.

He closed his eyes, gripped by how strongly he felt for her.

Then, he covered her naked body, grabbed the used condom hanging on for dear life, and left the room.

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