Free Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series by Anne Marsh

him with a keening cry. Her orgasm ripped through her, tiny spasms milking her pussy. Flipping her over, he pulled her up and onto her hands and knees, swatting her ass when she protested sleepily. Savored her gasp as the heat of that erotic pain bit at her. There was so much more he could show her.
    He tucked the head of his cock against her wet opening. He needed to be inside her, so inch by slow inch he pushed carefully deeper. He was too large, and his new mate was so very, very small. Petting her, he coaxed her to open for him and let him in.
    When he finally sheathed himself completely, a low, keening wail broke from her throat. He froze, but she pushed back against him, muttering demands. Thank God. Her body was a sweet, slick vise wrapped around his cock. He reached beneath her, finding her clit. In. Out. Discovering her rhythm. The rhythm that would send her over the edge.
    “I can’t.”
    “You will, chère .” He wasn’t leaving her behind.
    When the first shivers of her orgasm started, he bit her shoulder, marking her. Branding her as his as the scent of her marked him too. He’d know her anywhere now. Be able to track her wherever she went. As the orgasm pounded through him, he emptied himself in her. She flooded his senses.
    His Lark.

Chapter Seven
     
    An angry raptor screamed and pinwheeled overhead as the bayou waters slapped the houseboat’s sides. Beneath Lark’s fingertips, the cotton sheets were still cool. Hell . Heat flooded her, teasing the pleasant ache between her thighs. She felt wet. Stretched. Filled . For the first time in longer than she could remember, she hadn’t woken up aching and unsatisfied. The Breaux brothers were every bit as decadent as their reputation.
    She’d had her one taste of the fantasy, but now everyday life was knocking, and she needed to get back to her farm. Rafer Breaux was a sweet treat, and she was a woman on a diet. Unfortunately, though, she had no definite idea of where she was, other than deep in the bayou. The Breauxs obviously didn’t welcome visitors—not unless those visitors came with a boat of their own. If there was cellphone reception out here, she could call the farm and have someone come out with a boat. Wherever here was. The sultry warmth made it hard to think clearly.
    Her foot brushed a strong, firmly muscled leg with a rough dusting of hair. Cracking her eyes, she came face-to-face with Rafer.
    His heat surrounded her, his masculine scent a seductive lure. In the soft morning light, his too-familiar face was hard and watchful. As if he knew every instinct she possessed was clamoring for her to run. No. She didn’t mistake his cool observation for anything other than what it was. He was watching her. Waiting for her to wake up.
    Fantasies spilled through her head before she could cut them off. Images of the places where he’d put his hands, his tongue. He’d seen parts of her she’d never shown anyone else. Because last night was supposed to be a fantasy . An erotic game she was in control of. One look warned her loud and clear, however: she wasn’t in charge here and never had been. He’d played with her, and now the only question was why?
    She sat up, and to her surprise he let her go. His arms fell away from her, and she told herself she didn’t miss that heat. He was gloriously, fabulously naked. And he was beautiful in a primitive, masculine way, the slabs of muscles on his tight abdomen and the long-healed scar on his side promising strength and protection. A safe harbor.  Whatever battles he’d fought in his life, he’d won. His cock thickened, and she looked away, cheeks burning, until she spotted the tidy pile of her clothes.
    “I need to get home.” She couldn’t keep the accusation out of her voice as she lunged for her clothes. The familiar things couldn’t ease her awkward embarrassment, but she pulled her pants and her shirt on like the clothes were a lifeline. Her underwear had vanished, but her sneakers and