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

her consciousness, an ache that originated deep in the well of her pussy. The friction of his body against her clit, his cock pushing and pulling through the depths of her core, spiraled her closer to the explosion that she knew was waiting for her. Now she had to have it, and she ground against him when he pushed inside of her, letting his body rub her clit while he filled her, reaching for the orgasm that was speeding toward her like a lit fuse.
    “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, baby?” he asked.
    The words sent another surge of wetness to her pussy. There was no inhibition. No second guessing. Only this moment. This sensation. This man.
    “I’m going to come so hard, Luca. So hard.”
    “Do it,” he said. “Let me feel you come around my cock.”
    Her pussy was tight around him now, clenching down on his shaft as he grew bigger, close to his own orgasm. She could feel it building in him. Could feel it in the way he got longer and harder.
    “Come with me,” she gasped.
    “Oh, I’m going to come with you, Isabel. I’m going to give it all to you.”
    He was pumping fast now, thrusting all the way inside her, brushing her clit with every motion until the tiny bundle of nerves was almost numb with anticipation. She lifted her hips higher, pulled him deeper, and her pussy gave one last clench around him before the orgasm rocked through her body, releasing all the tension that had built there in one giant wave that kept crashing and crashing, the roar of it making her feel like she was sitting on the bottom of the ocean while the waves rolled violently over her head.
    He groaned as he found his own release, but he kept moving, letting her milk him of every last drop before he lowered his head to the hollow of her throat, his breath coming fast and heavy.

18
    L uca lay quietly , Isabel’s dark hair fanned out across his chest. He knew she was asleep from the steady rise and fall of her slender back, the soft, rhythmic breath against his skin.
    He’d just slept with the daughter of his employer. An employer who was violent and unpredictable. But it didn’t matter. Because now that he’d looked into Isabel’s eyes while he moved inside of her, he wasn’t going to leave her side.
    Would she tell him her secrets now? Tell him the thing that haunted her, kept her prisoner in this house with a bastard like Diego calling shots? Forced her to raise Sofia here when he knew she wanted more for her little sister? For herself?
    He didn’t know. He would have to take it slow with her. Show her that she could depend on him, that her secrets were safe with him. He didn’t know how long it would take, but he had the distinct feeling that they didn’t have all the time in the world. There was a storm looming on the horizon. He felt it in the tension seeping through the house like smoke in a three-alarm fire. In the way Diego’s eyes had darkened as he’d railed against Isabel and the way her gaze became shuttered when he asked why she stayed.
    He kissed the top of her head and gently lifted her arm off his chest, then eased from the bed. For a minute, he just stared down at her in wonder, taking in the delicate face with high cheekbones and full lips, her gorgeous ass barely covered with the sheet.
    Fuck. He hadn’t been lying. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
    He pulled the covers up around her and bent for his clothes, then slipped on his jeans. He would have to wake her soon, but he wasn’t looking forward to the moment when she would leave his room. Now that he’d had her, he wanted her close to him every minute of every day. Wanted to hear her throaty laugh and breathe in her soft, musky scent, feel her hand in his.
    There was a lot to work out before that could happen, but right now he was thirsty, and he thought she might be, too, when she finally woke up. He would go down to the kitchen, get them both a glass of water and maybe some ice cream out of the fridge, anything to delay