Free The Right Mr. Wrong by Natalie Anderson Page B

herself she’d exposed.
    Yeah, that was what he wanted.
    She bent further, presenting herself to him, pressing her face into the pillow, her knees apart, her hips rotating in bold invitation.
    ‘Oh, wow,’ he growled. His hands lifted, smoothing over the curves of her butt as if he couldn’t resist touching.
    And that was what she wanted. Nothing but sex. To be nothing but the receptive female. To feel a mate’s strength pound into her. All animal. Hot, satisfying. Over.
    She waited, feeling him move into position. She groaned as she felt the strength of his thighs lock against hers. She quivered, her body shaking already in a precursor of ultimate pleasure.
    He leaned forward, his hands sliding up from her hips now—up the length of her spine. He slid one hand around her ribs, boldly sweeping, and tweaked her nipple, while his other hand continued up her spine to massage the base of her neck. She angled her head as his fingers worked, she arched her rear up higher, rocking back and forth against the hot, hard erection he was holding back just out of her.
    He gave her nipple another tweak, half laughing as she moaned. But then he slid that hand lower—his hand spread wide, firm down her stomach. Down, down, to the part of her that was burning, ready for him.
    One touch was all it took to make her beg. ‘Oh, please,’ she sobbed. ‘Please, please, please.’
    He thrust hard inside her. The force pushed her face harder into the pillow, muffling her scream. Her fists tightened as she tried to absorb the pleasure as he growled and then rocked into her, again, then again. Oh, he was good. How could she have forgotten just how good? How had she ever thought anyone or anything could ever match up to this? This was the ultimate pleasure for her.
    His fingers toyed, teasing over her too sensitive nub until she was bucking like a wild pony. But his other hand clamped onto her shoulder, holding her in place so he could continue to thrust into her with brute strength, such masculine force, she thought she was going to break apart with the pleasure.
    She closed her eyes, her face locked hot against the feather-filled pillow. She could hardly breathe. But it was good. He couldn’t see into her eyes and take everything from her. Not all her secrets. She just wanted the sex. Wanted the orgasm.
    His fingers tightened on her skin. She relished the slight pain—recognising how close he was to losing control. She wanted that. She wanted it to be a raw, physical, fast explosion. She groaned again and again as he pushed her higher, further until she was so close she—
    ‘ Damn it .’ He pulled out.
    ‘What—?’ She fell forward, bereft.
    But he deftly flipped her onto her back. Her lax legs fell apart and in seconds he’d covered her. His chest to hers, his pelvis to hers, his nose to hers. His eyes boring into hers. ‘What do you want? Tell me what you want.’
    ‘You can’t figure it out?’ she growled at him.
    He shook his head. ‘You’re offering, giving. Don’t just offer— take .’
    ‘You didn’t like that?’
    ‘Of course I did,’ he roared through gritted teeth. ‘You make it so easy to take from you. But what do you want?’
    So excited, so exposed, so needy, she was pushed beyond limits—beyond self-preservation. ‘You!’ she breathlessly screamed, her eyes watering. ‘I just want you . All of you.’
    He didn’t move for a moment. Didn’t answer.
    Then he lowered his mouth that last inch and kissed her. Another kiss of the kind before—the one she’d been unable to bear. Explicitly sensual, yes, but also warm and sweet. Loving . And as he kissed her he thrust—slid—straight back inside. So deep, so full, so right.
    He didn’t stop kissing her—his tongue stroking, the rhythm matching that of his hips. He hadn’t just settled over her, he’d sealed them together. So nearly satisfied, she wound her arms tightly around him, her hands spread wide over his muscles, her fingers digging into his