Page 79 of The Woman Left Behind

Electricity flashed through her. She almost came, almost went over the edge. If he’d bent her over and pushed his cock into her right then she would have, but he didn’t and desperately she regrouped, pulled her response back. She didn’t want to come the way she had before, without him even inside her. She wanted him as desperate as she was, as hungry, as on fire and blind to everything except the sensation of being together.

She jerked away and fell back on the bed, her gaze angry and defiant and daring. Take me if you can, big guy.

He could.

The fire in her would scorch him alive. He knew it, and relished the burning. She challenged him, she pushed him, she dared him. She absorbed him on a level he’d never experienced before. Even her invitation was like beckoning him to a fight—and a fight was something he’d never backed down from. They might never settle this between them using words, but they would, by God, settle it in bed.

He crawled onto the bed, grasping her knees and pushing them apart. He paused a moment to look down at her crotch, dark pink and soft and wet, the sight setting him on fire. He slid between her legs and pulled her to him. He didn’t stretch out on her—that was something he intended to relish when he didn’t feel on the knife-edge of both tension and orgasm—but sat back on his haunches with her hips in his hands and her ass on his thighs. The expression on her face was so belligerent he wouldn’t have been surprised if she took a swing at him. Nothing she dared would surprise him, yet on another level she was always surprising him, amusing him, interesting him.

He leaned forward a bit, gripped his cock in one hand and brought the thick head of it to her body, rubbed it back and forth, nuzzling her with it until he felt the soft give of her body as she opened to him, then he pushed forward and inside. He watched as the thick head of his penis slid inside her, stretching her around him. She sucked in a quick breath, stiffening a bit. He rubbed her belly, comforting, reassuring. He was big and she wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to hurt her by being too fast or too rough. He went slow, savoring every inch, burnt through and branded by a year of wanting exactly this, and now having it, having her.

She made a gasping sound, her body arching, her eyes closing. Watching her, he saw her nipples tighten and darken even more as he sank deep into her, pausing when he felt resistance, pulling back a little, then nudging ever deeper. Sharp pleasure arrowed up his spine, drawing his balls tight. Just the sight of his cock sinking deep into her, seeing the wet sheen on his skin when he drew back, was enough to send him dangerously close to climax and he willed himself to stillness, taking the time to look at her and memorize every detail of this first time.

She lay there completely exposed and penetrated, her head tilted back, eyes closed, fists knotted in the sheet beneath her. She felt fragile to him, small and slim, her skin soft. His hand would span her hip bones. Inside her, slick, wet muscles gripped him, clasped and relaxed on his cock, gripped again. Jesus, she could milk him dry, make him come with just that inner pulsing.

He pulled back, pushed in again, watching sensation ripple through her muscles.

Her.

The single word reverberated through his brain, shot power and heat and sensation all through his body. His balls tightened to the point of pain, his cock throbbed.

Her.

He stroked over the smoothness of her belly, up to tweak those tight little nipples, rub his palms over her breasts until they were harder and rounder, pushing into his touch. Jina’s eyes were still closed, her neck arched, her lips parted as she reached for every sensation.

Shutting him out.

She was taking his body, but she was closing him out and taking only the sex, masturbating with his cock. She wasn’t trying to touch him with her hands at all, wasn’t reaching for him, wasn’t gripping his thighs where they framed her hips.

Fuck if he’d let her.

Swiftly he changed position, letting his weight down on her, the movement sending him so deep she gave a small involuntary cry and her legs came up, clasping his hips as if she could control his penetration.

Her.

It had been her from the beginning—not just sex, not just interest or attraction or any of the other terms he was more comfortable with. This was a sea change, crossing a boundary into completely new territory without a map, GPS, or any other means of navigating. All he could do was what his instinct drove him to do... which was claim her.

He captured her head with both hands, sinking his fingers deep into her hair, and ravaged her mouth with a kiss so deep he lost part of himself. He lifted his head, snarled, “Look at me,” and when her eyes flared wide, startled, he pushed in as deep as he could go, as deep as she could take him, and kissed her again. Angrily she bit at him and he laughed, kissed her again, fucking her mouth with his tongue as he fucked her body, wrenching a response from her and feeling her catch fire under him.

Her.

The knowledge slammed through him. Her. Only her. Forever her.

He pulled her legs high and took her as he’d wanted to take her for this past damned year, deep and hard, giving her everything he had and taking everything she had, pushing her into pleasure, blasting through the mental barrier she tried to keep between them, feeling her lose control and bite and claw as she came, riding her even harder through his own climax. Fucking her was like fighting a wildcat and he exulted in it.

Her.

His.

He stayed.

Jina lay limply, exhausted and devastated by the almost violent response he’d forced from her. She had almost done it, she had almost managed to reduce their coming together to nothing more than sex, but he hadn’t allowed it and now, hollowed out and emptied yet again, she thought she might be glad. She’d thought this would never happen but now he was here with her, naked in her bed, and what they’d just done was more intense than she’d ever imagined. Levi made herfeel. Even when she didn’t want to, when her bruised emotions wanted nothing more than to hide, he read her and destroyed her barriers.

She expected him to leave—despite the scary presence of his duffel—but he didn’t. He got up and turned out the light, then got back into bed with her and pulled her tight against him. Having him there was a shock to her system; she wasn’t used to sleeping with anyone, much less someone so big and hard and hot. He threw off heat like a furnace. She thought about making him leave... for about two seconds, which was when exhaustion swamped her. She melted against him, finding a comfortable resting place for her head in the curve of his shoulder, and went to sleep with his muscle-corded arms wrapped around her.

He woke her in the darkness a couple of hours later, his heavy weight on her, her body already lifting to his as if she recognized him even in her sleep. He stretched out a long arm and turned on the lamp, as if what was between them needed the light. The first time had been fierce and intense; this time was slower, hotter, and she gave up even the thought of keeping him at a distance. She couldn’t, didn’t want to. She felt richly feminine, strong enough to take him, to wring pleasure from him and also seize it for herself. She matched him, she fought him to a draw, climaxing twice before both of them were satiated and exhausted.

Yes!This was what she had wanted, to see him sweaty and almost unable to move, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, a faint smile curving that hard mouth. She loved feeling him come inside her, loved the deep sounds he made, the way his powerful body flexed and shuddered.Shebrought him to that, put that expression on his face.

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