Free Going Down by Vonna Harper Page A

convince herself that the cock of the moment was the one, a massive member belonging to the one man she’d forsake all others for.
    But that had always been fantasy because she couldn’t remember when she’d last been in love or even if what she’d felt at seventeen or eighteen truly qualified as love.
    Not tonight, she ordered as heat chased along her spine. She wasn’t going to pretend or fantasize or recall or even wish. She’d live in the moment. With the man who called himself Reeve.
    â€œI didn’t want this,” he muttered, his breath warming her forehead. Still gripping her buttocks with iron strength, he pushed at her, withdrew a little, pushed again.
    â€œYou—why not?”
    No answer, but then she hadn’t expected any, and even if he’d handed it to her, would she have been able to make sense of whatever he said?
    Probably not, because her arms were now around his neck and she was standing on her toes, and the too-familiar demanding ache gripped her.
    Given the right circumstances and even some that were less than perfect, she could climax before the average man did. In an attempt to level the playing field, she’d developed a number of strategies. Granted, most of them took place once clothes were no longer an issue, but something told her she shouldn’t wait until then.
    Teeth clenched against another kind of clenching in another part of her anatomy, she tilted her head so she could rake her teeth over the side of his neck. His response—predictable—was to release her left cheek so he could grip her hair and haul her head off him.
    â€œWhat the hell?”
    â€œWhat’s the matter? Can’t you take it?” she challenged. “It’s called foreplay.”
    â€œIf you’ve drawn blood—”
    â€œThen I’ll pay for a transfusion.” The grip on her hair held her head immobile, but then she was used to being restrained and knew how to use helplessness to feed her libido. “I didn’t take you for a weakling.”
    â€œAre you always this aggressive?”
    â€œWhen I want something, yes.”
    â€œYou want then?”
    No more words, action. With her head still forced to a less-than-comfortable angle, she rocked her lower body forward. His cock fought back, a length of hot lumber more than ready to accomplish what she needed it to. No question about it, this man was built for sex. Oh, she might have encountered a larger cock, not that she was into making comparisons, but it was obviously capable of fulfilling its assigned task.
    And then?
    No, damn it, she wasn’t going to let that question intrude tonight! She hated the part of her that insisted on looking beyond the moment, that needed a future.
    Sex was good. Sex was tonight’s goal.
    Nothing else.
    Still, as she rolled her pelvis from one side to the other, she didn’t entirely succeed in staying in the moment. This man, this gift from the sex gods, was nothing more than another in a long list of prime candidates, and yet he could be.
    Maybe.
    Releasing her hair, he pressed his fist against the small of her back as if trying to reach her womb. He had to know how close he was, how quickly the pressure had claimed her attention. If he thought he was going to gain control over her this way, he was mistaken. Damn him, mistaken! She wasn’t that easy.
    Or was she?
    Rising onto her toes, she again touched her mouth to his neck, this time sheathing her teeth with her lips. And if her tongue dampened the soft skin there, that was his problem. His sensation to deal with.
    When he jerked and tensed, she smiled a secret knowing smile and sucked in a deep breath. Her breasts still pressed against his chest, but the contact was now tentative instead of possessive, a tease and a promise.
    The air had a wild smell to it. That coupled with the lonely horn took her far from brightly lit sets and cameramen. There was no director here, no need to pause