Page 22 of Fuse

“Ohhhh!” It’s more a collection of gasps and groans than a cohesive exclamation, but I’m feeling a hundred kinds of opportunistic bastard right now—and prove as much with my long, dominant, decadent surge all the way inside her. If that drawn-out vowel isn’t the only way she can respond, then I’m not firing enough electrons right.

But I guess the circuits are connecting fine, because her second iteration is more fragmented than the first. Could have something to do with my really bastard move of sliding my grip to her ass and parting the cheeks far enough to gently finger her back there.

“Oh, baby. Now you’re really mixed up. O is after M too.”

“Damn it!” She all but snarls it while pounding my spine with her heels and thrusting her berry-hard nipples into my chest. “Who cares? For the love of fuck, who cares?”

Damn great point. Not that I’m weighing her logic, once her filthy word choice rockets all the way up my cock. But hell, how I love ramping her to the point that F-bombs flow from her, meaning more of the perfect honey from her pussy will soon follow.

And it does.

Yesssss, how it does, until the slicks between our crotches are as loud as the harsh, hard pants from our lips and the rhythmic, erotic chings of the handcuffs.

“So you’re serving me alphabet soup instead, Miss Crist?”

She opens her eyes enough to show me the thick lust in her gorgeous turquoise depths. The rest of her face is sheened in sweat and passion, with the exception of her kiss-stained lips. “Soup is good food, Mr. Richards.”

I lift a smile that darkens her stare and hardens her nipples. Both beckon me to twist a bruising kiss on her succulent mouth before I push myself all the way back up and in, using my hold on her ass to turn her body into my grinding, pounding plaything, her pussy lips ignited by my juices as they suck me inside over and over again.

“You’re just…good,” I grit out. “Dear Christ, Emmalina, you’re so good to me.” And perfect for me. And spellbinding to me. She’s got me damn near hypnotized now, filled with demented victory as the electricity from my thrusts grows and spreads along the plump tissues continuing to let me invade and incinerate and excite and ignite. I never just fuck this woman. I fuse with her. Unite with her. Lose myself in her. And never, ever want to be found. I’m going to wander in her wilderness for the rest of my days. Roam in the electric abyss of her blissful heat and offer every drop of my energy in worship to her magnificent matrix…

“Reece. Reece!”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“Then set me free. I need to touch you. I need to show you…”

“You already are, Velvet.” I stretch a forefinger in, circling her asshole with insistence—and delighting in what my glowing digit does to the hot torque of her cunt. “Fuck, in so many ways.”

“But—”

“Just take me, Emma.”

“But it’s so—”

“Take me, Emma!” I bellow it because I don’t have any choice now either. Because the heat and pressure and need in my dick are at the complete command of my senses, ordering me to push and pound and stretch toward a conclusion as inevitable as lightning erupting from clouds and the earth it’ll scorch in the end.

I need to scorch her.

Gash her.

Mark her.

As she’s already branded me. Emblazoned herself onto me. Forever.

“God!” She thrashes her head from side to side as her skin breaks out in a million points of bejeweled light. Damn, the woman turns even sweat into a work of art. I’m in awe as I continue to plunge in, ramming her deep every time, watching her carefully. Waiting for just…the right…moment…

As her womb seizes.

As her channel constricts.

As her breathing stops.

And becomes a scream.

I fall forward again, landing back on my elbows but gripping her face between my hands. “Watch me,” I dictate, digging fingertips into her hairline. “Watch me as you come.”

And then I rejoice. She doesn’t hesitate to obey, the flushed curves of her face fixed in a mixture of agony and ecstasy, of climax and completion, of orgasm and ovation. Just as that intensity wanes, her eyes pop wide from the force of her second climax—as my balls squeeze in and then punch a load of liquid light through my shaft, exploding deep inside her with rope after rope of blinding, blaring, bursting fulfillment.