Free Wounded Beast (Gypsy Heroes Book 2) by Georgia le Carre Page B

explosion that the second eat-out brings.
    It is indescribably beautiful. Only she who has experienced it can know what it is. Words are inadequate. Words are silly. How can you explain true ecstasy? Shaking and convulsing, I finally find out what a pussy is really for!
    He is shirtless and yanking off his jeans when the waves ebb away. For a few seconds I simply lie there enjoying the show. He has an incredibly fit body. There is a beautiful tattoo on his left breast of a roaring tiger’s face and a coiled snake on one of his biceps. I would have looked at them more closely, run my tongue over them, but he pulls his boxers off and his dick springs out.
    ‘Wow!’ I exclaim, my eyes wide and an awed grin on my face. ‘Huge and straight and beautiful.’
    ‘It’s all for you, babe,’ he says cockily.
    My heart lurches. ‘Fuck me,’ I whisper.
    His eyebrows lift. ‘I fucking intend to. For hours!’
    ‘So, what you waiting for then?’ I invite cheekily.
    A slow, devastatingly sexy smile spreads across his face. He puts his knee on the mattress and comes toward me on his hands and knees. He has held back for much longer than I would have done, and now he is coming to claim his reward. 
    I lift my leg and rest the sole of my foot in the middle of his approaching chest. He freezes, a new flash of excitement in his eyes. He thought I was shy. But I’m not. I’ll be the wild temptress he could never have suspected.
    ‘My turn,’ I say. ‘My rules.’
    I lift my body upwards and place my finger in the dimple made by the meeting of muscles in his shoulders. Without warning I grab his forearms and he lets me tackle him to the mattress. I push him down hard and sit astride his thighs.
    Taking his erect cock in my hand, I toy with it, enjoying the way it jerks and pulsates in my palm. It has its own musky scent that steals deep into my mind, infuses itself as a memory that will never be forgotten. Actually, it is a scent that drives me quite mad.
    Like a feral animal, I bend my head and, taking him in my mouth, I suck the warm, satiny skin sensually and deeply. He growls, a low hum deep in his chest. The sound is erotic. I love blowing him. I lift my eyes and watch him watching his dick disappear into my face.
    I slip the middle finger of my left hand into the slickness between my legs and sneak the finger between his legs up to his butthole. Michael, I remember clearly, absolutely adored it. I probe the entrance gently. A bundle of firm muscles pushes back. Nope, no one else has been in there.
    Suddenly, a strong hand curls around my wrist and yanks it away. ‘I ain’t no pretty boy, baby. In my bed it’s always going to be your ass that gets fucked.’
    Right. Message received loud and clear.
    And that, it seems, is the end of the ‘my turn, my rules ’ episode. He fists his hand in my hair and thrusts his dick deep into my throat. Only once has a man ever done that to me and I was so shocked and offended I bit him. But with this god of a man, I’m not annoyed. Not even a bit. I let him take total control. He fucks my mouth forcefully. There ’ s almost a desperation to his movements, a sentiment that I understand and welcome. It’s good to know that at least on a physical level I ’ m as necessary to him as he is to me.
    He reaches for something on the bedside table. I hear the sound of foil tearing. He passes the rubber to me. ‘Climb on top of me,’ he orders.
    I roll the condom over his cock and hold myself poised over the massive throbbing shaft. The moment feels achingly sweet. The yearning to be totally filled is white hot. At a torturous snail’s pace I allow his thick hardness to pierce into the wet heat between my legs and stretch me as I ’ ve never been before.
    I stop the slow glide and hold myself suspended above him to accustom myself to his girth.
    ‘An inch too far?’ he growls.
    ‘No, I can take it all. I know I can.’ And I push myself down. Whoa! A shocked sound escapes and he smiles