Free Shattered Souls by Delilah Devlin

body quivered with anticipation as he circled his hips and began to screw slowly inside her. Air hissed between her clenched teeth. God, she’d forgotten how big he was.
    “You OK?” he asked, his voice thick.
    “Ego need a little stroking?”
    His mouth curved, and he pushed deeper. Then his head sank. Forehead to forehead, he groaned again. “Goddamn, you’re wet. And so fucking tight.”
    Sam rarely cursed, except when she got under his skin. Cait tilted back her head and kissed him hard. “Don’t go easy on my account.”
    Like a greyhound leaping out of the starting gate at the crack of a pistol, Sam thrust deep, pushing the air from her lungs in a harsh gasp.
    Cait didn’t care. She clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging deep. She bounced her hips off the mattress, her movements opposing his, until their bodies slammed noisily together.
    Sam began the rapid-fire pistoning that never failed to get her off. His strokes powered into her, rough and targeted—aimed straight at her core.
    Unbidden, tears filled her eyes. She savored every moment—the taste and scent of his clean sweat, the tensile strength of his hard, muscled frame, the thrusts that churned her juices like silky butter as he rammed past her rippling walls.
    Sam filled her up in more ways than the obvious. How could she let him walk away again?
    His body tightened like heat-tempered steel, and he heaved himself up on his arms. His biceps flexed, and Cait couldn’t resist gliding her hands over the sweat-slick muscle. She glanced down between their bodies to watch him power into her. The sight of his cock gliding quickly in and out fed the tension ripening in her body. At last, she dug her head into the pillow and arched her body, grinding her pelvis into his, rubbing her clit against the crisp hairs surrounding the base of his slick shaft.
    Abruptly, he pulled out, leaving her on the edge. Still needy, she cried out.
    Sam didn’t give her time to rail at him; he flipped her over and lifted her ass into the air.
    Before she had a chance to get her arms beneath her, he was stroking inside her again, pounding against her bottom. Grateful he’d arrested her orgasm, she delighted in the heat and tender violence he delivered.
    But Sam never missed a trick, never let her rise toward heaven on a steady glide path. He reached around her and thrust his hands between her legs. Fingers exposed her clit and rubbed in wet circles on the sensitive knot until she bucked wildly against him.
    When she came, only then did he clutch her hips and deliver the final salvo. She gave a muffled scream, and her torso collapsed toward the bed, her breasts rubbing on the cool sheets, as he thrust in an uneven rhythm. At last, he jerked against her, his labored groans the sweetest sounds she’d heard in a long, long time.
    Spent, he collapsed on top of her, blanketing her back with his cock still lodged deep inside her. “’M not moving,” he slurred tiredly.
    Cait snickered softly and wiggled her ass.
    Sam blew out a deep breath; his arms snuggled close to her sides.
    Completely surrounded by him and happier than she had a right to be, Cait drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Eight
     
    Sam awoke to the sound of Cait’s soft whimpers, something he’d heard often during their marriage. Cait had always deflected his questions, leaving him wondering to this day about the cause. She’d been tight-lipped about a lot of things.
    Sam came up on an elbow and shook her gently. “Cait, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
    Her breath hitched and her legs scissored. When she settled again, her ass was thrust deep into the cradle of his hips. A thready moan broke the silence.
    He bent and glided his lips across her shoulder. “What were you dreaming about?” he asked softly.
    Cait lay still, her body slowly stiffening. Just when he thought she wouldn’t answer, she rolled to face him and placed a hand on his chest.
    Her gaze stayed lowered, watching her fingers stroke his