by Anne Kane
“It’s the truth.” He let his hand drift lower, exploring the satiny skin of her belly. “And you like it when I fuck your brains out.”
“Mmmmm.” Her eyelids drifted down to cover those startling blue eyes. “And you do it so well.”
“Thank you.” He covered her sex with one palm, and slid a finger between the moist folds to find her clit.
“Oh yeah.” She arched her hips to push against his hand. “Keep doing that and maybe we can compromise.”
Roark chuckled and plunged a finger deep into her pussy. He knew he’d do whatever she wanted. In the short time since he’d dragged her aboard his ship, the blue-eyed witch had stolen his heart. He inserted a second finger, pumping them in and out.
A low whimper escaped Breanne’s lips, and she rocked her hips in time to each thrust of his fingers. Roark picked up the pace, marveling at her deeply sensual nature. She moaned, her body thrashing beneath his hand. Her breath came in short gasps, and he withdrew his fingers, ignoring her sharp cry of protest.
He swiftly moved to cover her sinfully gorgeous body with his own, his painfully engorged shaft bumping eagerly at the entrance to her sex. Breanne arched up against him, but Roark held back. He wanted this to be special. Deliberately, inch by agonizingly slow inch, he penetrated her moist depths. Her inner muscles pulsed around him, and he let out a low growl, giving up any pretence at control.
Breanne gripped his shoulders tightly, and he buried his face in her magnificent mane of hair as he plunged in and out of her tight pussy. She met him thrust for thrust, her soft cries of need sending fiery darts of want searing up his spine.
“Roark. Please. Oh goddess, please!”
He felt her orgasm starting, the walls of her channel rippling around his cock and throwing him into his own orgasm. Wave after wave of sheer pleasure pulsed through him. With a triumphant cry, he emptied his seed into her as her body shuddered against his.
He felt whole. Complete. Bonded to this amazing witch who’d stolen his heart and brought it back to him wrapped in the glorious gift of her love.
Anne Kane
Anne Kane lives in the beautiful Okanagan Valley with a bouncy Jack Russell terrier, a cantankerous Himalayan cat, and too many fish to count. She spent many years trying to fit in and act normal, but finally gave up the effort. She started writing romance, and her fate was sealed when Changeling Press accepted her first submission. She hopes you enjoy the characters that escape from her imagination and the worlds they choose to inhabit.
Her hobbies, when she’s not playing with the characters in her stories, include kayaking, hiking, motorcycles, swimming, skating, karate, playing guitar, singing and of course, reading.
