“Mine. All mine.” Oddly enough, he meant it. He wanted to tattoo everything he was all over her body so she’d always smell Bruiser, taste him, see him, feel him. Yeah, that was what he wanted. To ruin her for any other man, so she’d never want anyone but him.
He slipped his tongue inside her, tasting the salty sweetness of her body. She whimpered, arching her back and pressing her hips upward to meet his mouth. He licked her back to front. Sucking on her clit, he pushed a finger inside her, high and deep, while he tortured that little nub of pleasure.
Mac wriggled on the bed, making little sounds that made his dick ache. She arched her back and pressed her crotch against his face, while he lapped at her juices, sucked on her clit, and thrust two fingers into her tight snatch. He felt her coming before he heard and saw it.
Satisfied with the results, he waited for her to return to reality before he took his own pleasure.
* * * * *
Mac didn’t know what death felt like, but she did know what heaven felt like. She might as well have been taking straight shots for the past few hours, as drunk on sex as she was.
“Fuck me,” she begged when she was finally able to put two coherent words together.
Rolling a condom over his impressive erection, Bruiser slid up her body until their faces were even. His chest rubbed against hers, his cock rested between her legs—not that rested would be an accurate verb. He kissed her, hard and deep, nothing gentle about it, and she loved it. Loved the taste of her on his tongue and lips. Loved how he took charge of her body and her soul.
Bruiser pulled back and looked at her. The strain on his face was as clear as a Seattle summer day. “I really want to fuck you. Hard. Deep. And long. Till you beg for mercy, and I give you none. I want you, Mac.” He swallowed, and she watched as he visibly wrapped a tight leash around his control. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I’m afraid I will because I’m about to lose every ounce of restraint I have.”
“Then lose it like a man. I can handle it. I want to handle it.”
“A man, huh?” His blue eyes raged with lust and gratitude. “You sure you can handle this man?” He spoke through gritted teeth.
“Positive. Ride me like you’ve never ridden a woman before.”
“Ah, fucking hell.” He rose up, holding himself above her with his arms on either side of her shoulders. He entered her with one hard, long thrust and slammed inside her balls-deep.
He went in even deeper when it came to her heart.
She wanted more. “Harder. Harder,” she yelled, and he obliged, both of them consumed by an animal lust as old as the earth itself, an uncivilized mating ritual of two civilized souls. Over and over he powered into her, taking her sanity and her breath away until the only thing she knew was his name. And she cried out that name as she rocketed out of this reality into another, leaving everything behind and entering uncharted territory. Bruiser was right there with her. She could feel him, not just physically but as an emotional presence deep inside her.
And then she knew the truth of what she’d been denying all along.
This wasn’t just about sex.
Chapter 13—Blindsided
Bruiser pedaled the stationary bike faster and faster with the resistance set on high, hoping fatigue would wipe out visions of a naked Mac tied to her bed, legs splayed open and vulnerable. Sweat ran down his face, and he swiped it out of his eyes, pushing his damp hair off his forehead. His chest and back were drenched through his T-shirt. His leg muscles cramped, begging for relief, but he pushed harder, relishing the cleansing pain, embracing it, waiting for exhaustion to replace thoughts of one sexy little groundskeeper.
Instead, images of Mac played through his mind like the lines of a favorite song he couldn’t shake. It’d been a week since he’d first slept with her—not that he’d slept exactly. Once they’d finished the second round, he’d stolen out of the house while Mac snoozed in a pile of rumpled sheets. At least he’d cut the zip ties first. The last thing he wanted was for her father to find her that way. He almost laughed at the thought. As obsessed as the old man was, he wouldn’t bat an eye, if he even noticed. Tragic in a way, but true.
Only that second night, the one that should have been his limit, hadn’t been enough, and for the last week, Bruiser found himself standing on her doorstep late at night. They fucked each other’s brains out until the early-morning light, then he dragged himself home for a few hours of sleep, as if not waking up with her in the morning would keep his emotions out of it. To make things worse, he hadn’t dealt with Brett either. The entire situation made him feel like a selfish shit, yet he couldn’t stay away.
So here he was on a Friday night catching up on the workouts he’d neglected, even though he suspected wild sex with Mac qualified as an adequate replacement.
Bruiser got off the bike, steadied himself on numb legs, and headed for the showers. A desolate weekend stretched out in front of him. Mac promised her father she’d go on an excursion to Oregon to chase down yet another lead, which left him at loose ends.
He could hunt down Trudy, do some sleuthing, or party with some of the guys.
After toweling off, he dressed in front of his locker and pulled on his shoes. He looked up as a shadow crossed in front of him. “Hey, Brett, my man, what’s up?”
“How about a drink?” Brett studied him oddly, and a
