Free Let Me In by Carolyn Faulkner

it?"
    He heard her impatient sigh.
    Suddenly he asked a question against her ear. "Can you speak at all, honey?" he asked, just curious.
    She opened her mouth and tried to tell him to get the fuck on with it, but nothing but a whisper came out.
    Mace threw back his head and laughed. "Well, you usually scream when you cum. It'll be interesting to hear what it is you do in this case, because I'm going to make you do that right... now."
    The fingers inside her began to plunge roughly in and out of her, raking his thumb over her clit merely by dint of their motions. It only took about five strong thrusts before he felt her stiffen and spasm around and beneath his demanding hand. She amazed him with the strength of her contractions that barely seemed to diminish over time as her ruined voice tried to scream but couldn't, but she continued to try – had to try, apparently as helpless against that impulse as she was against him. Eventually she found a very high range and began to squeal rhythmically as he relentlessly molested her into another violent peak only seconds after the first, then a third that took quite a bit longer but was, if her ragged vocalizations were anything to judge it on, much more satisfying than the last.
    He held her there, helpless, until he'd wrung seven orgasms from her, not relenting in the least until he felt he'd truly exhausted her.
    Mace couldn't keep from touching her as she floated down from on high – not demandingly, because, although he was hard, he knew it was false advertising, that he was too wiped to do her justice, and she was too exhausted to live through another bout of him. But it was his deepest need, when they'd been intimate like this, to simply touch her, to be in contact with her, everywhere at once if he could manage to do it. It seemed to soothe her, too, although he noticed sometimes, when he'd used her particularly hard, that there was moisture on the arm beneath her head, and he knew that he'd driven her to tears.
    He wasn't at all sure how he felt about that – whether it was a good thing for her or a bad one. It didn't happen all the time, and he hadn't addressed it with her at all because she seemed to prefer to ignore it, so he allowed her to, at least for now.
    Whereas he had relaxed the arms that had held her so close while he was fondling her, he contracted them around her as she began to wilt, encouraging her to fall asleep with their safety, and, minutes later, she did.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    They had originally met through mutual friends. She was having a small show at a tiny gallery he supported in their nearest larger town. He came to the opening and took one look at her, feeling as if he'd been struck by a bolt of lightening. She obviously hadn't felt the same way, in fact she did her level best to avoid him the entire evening, even though he'd seen a painting he wanted to buy from her. But somehow, when he had set his sights on meeting her, either someone came up to him that he felt obligated to talk to out of courtesy or she managed to slip away, into the surprisingly large, enthusiastic crowd that attended.
    So he decided to simply bide his time, having secreted himself into a bit of an alcove, and made damned sure that he was the only person there after she'd said goodbye to what she thought were the last two people in there. But then he appeared – the man she'd been dodging all night.
    When she'd realized that every time her eyes glided past his, he was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her whole, Miranda had asked her best friend, Penny, who had helped her book this show, who the hell he was.
    "Oh, God, that's Mace Kennedy."
    "Of the Kennedys?" she asked, her eyes wide.
    "Hell no. Of the Bar K Ranch, not far outside of town. His family – read: he – owns most of the land around here, and he started and owns a lot of companies himself. He's rich as Croesus." Penny licked her lips. "Not to mention hot as hell – look at the way his suit coat