Allissa
The first thrust drove the air from my lungs and a cry from my throat, deep and claiming and perfectly aimed. He set a punishing rhythm and I rode it, meeting him stroke for stroke, the wet slap of our bodies filling the room along with his ragged groans and my climbing gasps. Each drive of his hips hit that place inside me that blurred the candlelight. His hands roamed everywhere he could reach, gripping my hips, my breasts, the curve of my ass, hauling me down harder onto him, possessive even now, especially now.
“Name,” he demanded, voice wrecked.
“Darren.” It broke out of me on a moan, and his answering snarl was triumphant.
He sat up without slipping free, wrapping an arm around my back and changing the angle so exquisitely that I clutched his shoulders and let my head fal
