Page 33 of The Devil's Scars

Zoe felt a spark starting to flicker and burn in her stomach. He was just so deep, so huge, and he was panting so hard and fast in her ear, his voice so full of need and urgency as he breathed her name.

“Ready?” he said at last, and she nodded, gripping his shoulders again. “I want you to come again, Zoe, nice and hard and loud… and I want you to scratch up my back. Give me some marks, baby. I fucking love them.”

“Yes,” she breathed, and she moved her hands down his back a bit. “I will.”

They started to move together, over and over, and a tantalizing friction built and built between them. Scars started moving faster, thrusting into the hot heart of her, and her pussy muscles started to pull on him, hard and steady.

He fought to hold off his own orgasm, wanting her to come again before he did. Almost crazed by her moans and movements, he slammed into her as hard and fast as he could, and she writhed above him, around him, wild and abandoned, her nails leaving red welts in his skin, just as he’d demanded.

“Scars…oh, God. I’m coming… now… now.”

He angled her hips to hit that sweet spot over and over again, and she gave a small shriek as she rode the longest, hardest orgasm of her life. The look on her face set him off, and he gave one last thrust before releasing inside her in helpless, throbbing bursts.

“Fucking mine,” he growled, even as his face was buried in her shoulder, his mouth open and hot as he panted against her throat, his eyes closed in ecstasy. “Zoe… God…”

Exhausted, spent, he looked into her luminous eyes. He kissed her gently, still inside her, never wanting to move again. She took a deep breath, nestled against his shoulder, and ran her hands up and down his muscled back, not wanting to be anywhere but where she was right at that moment.

“Zoe?”

She raised her tousled head and looked at him. “Yes?”

Just then, he did something so surprising, so unexpected, so damn gorgeous, that her heart stood still in her chest.

Scars reached up, traced the curve of her cheek with one finger. Slow. Soft. Gentle.

“Beautiful,” he said, and this wasn’t a growl or a grunt. His deep voice wasn’t harsh, or hard, or full of sex. No, it was full of wonder, of awe. Full of light. “So damn beautiful.”

He slipped out of her then, but still held her closer, and they were quiet for a few minutes. Just breathing together, recovering together, rejoining this world together.

Scars smiled to himself, simply unable to believe that she’d just shown up at Satan’s, just wandered on into his life. No way he was letting her go, now that she’d appeared. He wanted to take her back to his place, and love her properly. Long and hard and deep… and then make her coffee in the morning. Then they’d make love again, then shower, then get filthy all over again. They’d talk too, talk until they wanted to do anything and everything except talk. God, he wanted to get to know her. He wanted to know every single damn thing about this beautiful, passionate, wild-eyed angel.

Zoe, meanwhile, was starting to think that Scars had to be ready to let her go by now. He’d had his fun, after all, and she had an early morning. She wriggled away a bit, and was startled when he gave a low growl and held her close again.

Huh. A biker who likes to cuddle. Who the hell would ever have thunk it?

Ignoring how good it felt to be held against that hot, hard body, Zoe pulled away more forcefully this time. She stood up, located her bra and panties, started to put on her shirt.

“Hey.” Scars sat up straighter, a look of confusion on his rugged face. “Where do you think you’re going, beautiful?”

“Home.” She turned slightly, yanked on her skirt. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow. Keira, remember.”

“Awesome.” He got to his feet too, totally unselfconscious about his nudity. But then again, why the hell would he be? Hundreds of women had seen him like this, she figured, and God knows, the view was spectacular. Every impressive inch of it. “I wouldn’t mind doing that all again in a bed.”

“Whoa. Wait.” She blinked. “What?”

“What what?” he rejoined with a grin. “You really think I’m letting you go that easy, beautiful?”

Zoe’s breath stopped. She actually stopped breathing. Was he going to physically stop her form leaving? Restrain her? Hold her against her will?

Scars must have seen something on her face, because he stared at her. “Zoe? You good?”

She nodded and backed up, her heart in her throat, looking for her stupid shoes. Praying the whole damn time that she was overreacting.

He watched her move away from him, wondering why she was as white as a sheet of paper. He disliked her pallor, and he disliked her getting dressed at warp-speed even more. He knew that he had to lock this down before she got into her shoes and hit the door.

“So, as I was saying,” he continued. “I’m coming with you, OK?”

“You – you what?” she stammered, totally wrong-footed. “Why?”

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