Free The Muscle Part One by Michelle St. James Page A

soaked with need for him.
    “Luca…”
    He positioned himself over her, lowering his head to kiss her. He was gentle at first, but it didn’t last long. Their desire was like a powder keg, poised to explode, and soon they were kissing with ferocious abandon, his tongue diving into her mouth, exploring every corner while she ran her fingers up his sculpted back.
    He nipped at her lower lip, then kissed his way down her throat, tonguing the hollow at the center of her collarbone. She tried to reach for his cock, needing more contact with him, all the contact she could get, but he quickly wrapped both of her wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head.
    She felt a moment’s panic then. She was pinned to the bed, could hardly move under his strong body. He must have seen it, because he stopped, searching her eyes.
    “Are you afraid, love?”
    She thought about the question, wanting to be honest. But she wasn’t afraid. Not of Luca. The only thing that scared her now was the past. She shook her head, and he released her hands, touched her face.
    “I will never, ever hurt you, sweetheart. You have my word. But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”
    She shook her head. “I might die if you stop.”
    His laughter was a low rumble that vibrated through her body. “I might die if I have to.”
    Then he was kissing her softly, his mouth sweeping hers more tenderly, another promise that he wouldn’t hurt her. But the longer he kissed her the more she didn’t want his tenderness. She wanted his mouth everywhere on her body. Wanted his cock to drive into her, stretch her, fill her. He must have sensed it because his kisses became more urgent, and then he was making his way back down her neck, pausing over her breasts, raking his teeth gently over the erect nipples, pausing to suck and lick, using his teeth all over again in a cycle of torture that threatened to send her over the edge before he’d even been inside her.
    She grabbed a fistful of his hair. “Please, Luca. I don’t want anything right now but to feel you inside me.”
    “I want to taste you,” he murmured against her belly. “I’ve been dreaming about how sweet you taste every minute since that night by the pool.”
    “You can taste me later," she gasped, reaching for his cock. “And I’ll taste you later, too. Right now I just need you to fuck me.”
    He groaned and reached for the nightstand, then kneeled between her legs. He was a work of art, as beautiful as any sculpture in any museum in the world. She sat up, took him briefly in her mouth before rolling the condom over his massive shaft.
    He growled and pushed her back on the bed. “You don’t have any idea what you do to me, do you?”
    “Is that a rhetorical question?” she gasped as he positioned the crown of his cock at her entrance.
    He answered by sliding it back and forth across her folds, wetting his cock with her desire, circling her clit until she was digging her nails into his hips, begging him to take her.
    Finally he bent down, careful not to put his full weight on her body while he kissed her, plundering her mouth with his tongue at the exact moment he sunk into her so hard and deep that she cried out in his mouth.
    He buried his face in her neck for a few seconds. “Fuck, you’re so wet, so tight, Isabel. Like you were made for me.”
    She stroked his hair, relaxing her muscles, letting her body open to him. “I was made for you, mi amor. Now fuck me until I scream.”
    He growled again, dragging out of her in an exquisite kind of torture. When only the tip was still inside her, he thrust deep and hard again, sinking into her until she felt him hit the top of her womb, until there was nowhere else for him to go.
    And still she wanted more.
    She grabbed his ass, lifted her hips off the bed, pulled him into her while she met his thrust. He stifled a groan and kept moving, dragging his massive shaft through her wetness again and again.
    She felt the orgasm at the periphery of