Free Night Hunter by Vonna Harper

Maybe he wasn’t aware of her after all…of himself as a man.
    Feeling as if she was being propelled by an unknown force, she slowly and possessively ran her hands over his chest, ribs, throat, shoulder blades. Just doing that kicked her libido up a notch. She was already having trouble controlling her breathing, and as for not conjuring up images of having him locked inside her, well, forget it! He continued to stand unmoving. The memory of his control of her made her question how much he was responsible for what she was doing. It didn’t matter.
    She slid her hands under his arms and around to his back. That forced her closer to him. She could no longer keep him in focus. She was turning liquid from belly to hips. The inner heat rose and rose. He smelled of sweat and dirt. Far from repulsing her, the raw scents added to her arousal.
    He leaned back and stared down at her, making her wonder if he was taking inventory of her. Well, she wasn’t a Playboy centerfold, but then he’d never grace the cover of a romance novel. Besides, from her admittedly limited expertise, she knew that once a couple started tearing at each other, imperfections didn’t matter. What she needed was an old-fashioned roll in the hay, a little bumping and grinding, some hot and—
    “Kneel,” he ordered.
    You can’t order me!
    Yes, he could, she amended as her legs turned to jelly. She tried to retain her balance by leaning against him, but he grabbed her arm and pushed her away from him. He jerked down on her arms, emphasizing the command. Why should she fight? After all, she’d come here for one thing and one thing only. She sank to the ground, sliding her hands and arms down his body for support.
    She felt weak, out of control.

Chapter Seven
    Mala thought she detected a change in the sound the wind made, but she couldn’t concentrate on it enough to be sure. It was hard to think of anything else when an all-but-naked man stood spread-legged a few inches away. A young, strong and, no doubt about it, virile man, she might add.
    Her mind snagged on the word strong. Maybe because she was looking up at him, she felt just a tad overwhelmed by his size and bulk. She wasn’t a ninety-eight-pound weakling, but he’d already demonstrated his mastery over her. She might fantasize about having a man overpower her, but dreams and reality were two very different things. In the real world, nothing scared her more than the thought of not being able to defend herself—to be at someone’s mercy. At the same time, sticky juices pooled at her crotch and seeped down her thighs.
    “Now, on your back.”
    Shock slammed into her chest. She felt her clit heat and swell. “My—damn it, Laird! I’m not a hooker. You can’t order—”
    Lifting his knee, he pressed his leg against her chest. As he did, she caught a glimpse of his swollen, enormous cock. “On your back.”
    Her forehead felt about to burst, but even that pressure didn’t distract her from the unbelievably erotic image of her as this marvelous man’s plaything. He wasn’t some rapist waiting in the shadows. If her life had been in danger, she would have sensed it and fought his attempts to pull her into his world, wouldn’t she? But to be possessed and at his mercy sent hot blood charging throughout her.
    “I don’t want…” She tried to protest with what remained of her will.
    “Yes. You do.”
    “You’re not doing this. All right, you aren’t a damn brood mare. A slave.”
    Then why was she scooting around and stretching her legs out in front, leaning back, back until the earth pressed into her spine? Although it was so hot that the earth itself radiated warmth, she couldn’t stop shivering. More fluid leaked from her. She’d become so swollen that her cunt pressed almost painfully against her shorts. It took incredible self-control not to lift her buttocks toward him like some bitch in heat.
    “Spread your legs.”
    “Laird! What—”
    “Spread them.”
    Inch by