Heat: Fifty Fictions For The Fevered Mind
The cool night air of the library brushed her cheeks, sending tremors of contrast across her flushed skin.
"You're so fucking tight," he murmured, voice low and thick. "Poetic little pussy-built for fucking."
He pulled out halfway, then slammed into her-hard. The sound of him filling her echoed off the metal, wet, obscene. Claire's head rolled to the side, trying to catch air; she bit her lip, throat burning.
Rowan leaned in close to her ear.
"Her breath came in staccato whispers, wet and desperate as he drove into her..."
He quoted from the book, voice husky, each line timed with his thrusts. His grip on her hips tightened, guiding every brutal pulse.
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