“Like that, baby?” he crooned, the lyrical flow of his voice deepening. “That little bit o’ bite? The way your pretty little rear burns and gets greedy for more?”
She whimpered at the intensity of those sensations.
With each thrust inside her, his other hand delivered a heavy pat to the rounded curves of her butt, each heated caress intensifying the burn beneath her skin and inside the far-too-sensitive channel his fingers were working inside.
“No. Don’t stop,” she demanded when his fingers slid from her entirely, leaving her aching, that entrance flaring with a demand that he return. As though the sexuality he was unleashing inside her were a force all its own, the building hunger no more than an extension of it.
It was terrifying, exhilarating. Like an adventure itself. One far more extreme and dangerous than she’d ever known before.
“Oh, sweet, I’ve no intention of stopping,” he promised her. “Not until your body is lying limp and exhausted beneath me and my cum is spilling deep inside your sweet little ass.”
A shudder raced through her at the warning, then shook her when his fingers returned. Slicker, the cool gel was worked inside when he returned with a less burning thrust. A single finger working the slickness inside her, over and over again, pushing in deep, past the ultratight ring of muscles where he teased the nerve endings there, built the increasing hunger for more before retreating again.
“Ah, sweet Zoey,” he whispered. “Ya look so pretty with my fingers stretching your tight little rear. I wish you could see how sweet, how fucking hot it is when I see this.”
Stretching. Burning.
Zoey wailed at the additional force of the fiery pleasure attacking the clenched entrance when he returned.
“You stretch so sweet and tight around my fingers,” he breathed out, his voice rough. “You’re almost ready, love. Almost ready to stretch around my cock and milk me inside. Almost, baby.”
His fingers lodged inside her, stilling for a moment. That didn’t mean he had any intention of giving her a chance to adapt to such destructive pleasure. Doogan had little mercy in him when it came to pushing her into the heart of the storm building inside her.
As his fingers stilled, she felt the broad press at the entrance to her pussy, then a slow, deep vibration as Doogan pushed the vibrator inside her.
“Son of a bitch,” he groaned. “That’s it, sweet love, take it. Let it fill your sweet pussy.”
His fingers began stretching inside her, scissoring apart slowly, pulling back as they remained widened, until he slid free of her entirely.
That buzzing inside her, the vibrating pulse of the dildo worked further inside her, distracting her. It was thick and heavy, almost as thick as his cock, but not nearly as warm and satisfying.
His fingers returned again. All three, pressed close together but still so thick, so wide . . .
Zoey tried to scream as the vibrator was pushed to the hilt, the flash of intense, rocketing pleasure blazing through her senses a second before Doogan sent his fingers tunneling inside her rear, driving in deep before spreading apart again. The stretch of that inner ring, so tight and sensitive, had her clawing at the blankets.
She wanted to demand he stop. She needed to demand he give her more. Her hips moved, pressing back, rocking against the dual penetrations, pressing into them, her senses out of control with the lashing bursts of rapid-fire pleasure-pain.
“That’s it, Zoey.” His voice was rife with gathering lust. “Fuck back into me, baby. Damn me, when I get my dick inside your tight ass I’ll be lucky I don’t spill inside it on the first thrust.”
His fingers jacked inside her, a short series of rapid little thrusts that had her wailing his name, burning from the inside out and eagerly awaiting each intense flare of agonizing pleasure.
“Now.” She had to force the words past her lips. “Please. Doogan, please. Now.”
He shouldn’t talk to her. Each time he did, she lost more of herself to him.
Rather than giving in to her demand, he pulled the vibrator back, worked inside her again, pushed his fingers back in another, blistering thrust.
She should kick his ass for torturing her, but instead she was pushing back into each thrust, low, desperate cries spilling from her as instinct began to demand, and her body’s response began tightening, nearing her orgasm.
Doogan chuckled, his fingers easing from her. “Not yet, my Zoey. You’ll not cum yet. Not until my cock is buried balls deep and I’m shooting inside you with a force that may kill me with the pleasure.”
TWELVE
Zoey fought her rocking senses as she felt his fingers retreat. The vibrator wasn’t retreating, though. With surprising speed he anchored it firmly inside her before she felt him rising behind her.
Her body was a mass of sensations, fiery pleasure and intense demands.
“There, love.” Doogan’s lips pressed to her hip, one hand reaching beneath her, and a second later Zoey cried out desperately, the buzzing vibration filling her vagina, rippling through it and sending tremors of desperate sensation rocking her body.
“Now, baby.” His voice was hoarser, deeper. “Now, I get to fuck that pretty little ass. Do ye know how often I’ve dreamed of it, love?”
The broad, blunt crest tucked against her back opening, the pressure blooming through the nerve endings building as the heated cock head began pressing in slowly.
So slow.
“Oh God . . . Doogan . . .” She pressed her forehead into the bed; her body shook, shuddering as she felt the opening parting, stretching around him with a slow, fiery buildup of agony and ecstasy. The most pleasure she’d ever known mixed with a desperate, white-hot burn she eagerly accepted. Accepted and sought more of.
Doogan didn’t ease back, he didn’t allow the flames attacking her senses to falter, he only stoked them, built them, let them begin consuming her.
“Doogan. Please . . .” she begged, crying out desperately as the slow, stretching burn began to consume her, to build in her flesh.
Like a drug. This pleasure was like a drug. She couldn’t possibly survive . . .
“Should I stop, baby?” he crooned behind her. “Damn me, you’re so pretty. You’re opening for me love, flared around the tip of my cock, parting so sweet. And it’s like flames beginning to wrap around my dick, you’re so fucking tight.”
Steady, stretching, burning, pleasure and pain and the heavy vibration destroying her senses, leaving her to exist for nothing but the increasing detonations of sensations so deep and intense her entire body entered a state of hypersensitivity.
“Ah, Doogan.” She cried out his name again as the full width of his cock head slid inside, her muscles clenching with a spasming response and a surge of static sensation raced up her spine.
Her buttocks clenched furiously, involuntarily, the tissue locked beneath the blunt force rippling, working furiously to adapt to the invasion.
“That’s it, baby.” Guttural, rasping with pleasure, the hint of Irish, a shadow of emotion, he encouraged her acceptance as the tighter, more sensitive ring of tissue began flaring around the crest.
She couldn’t take more.
Grinding her forehead into the mattress, she sobbed out at the increasing demands whipping through her, the heightened sensation, her flesh stretching, pleasure-pain building, taking her . . .
Inside her pussy the vibrator’s deep, internal strokes and teasing caresses only aided the steadily rising, remorseless burn and demanding intensity overtaking her.
It wasn’t pleasure. It wasn’t pain. It was such a mix of both, so heightened, built to such a level it should have been terrifying. Should have been. If not for Doogan’s soft croon, one hand steadying her hip, the other stroking, caressing.
“Now, love,” he warned her gently. “We’re almost there, sweet. Just here . . .”
Zoey screamed.
That place she existed within burned white-hot, with sensations fracturing inside her, pulsing with such a viol
ent overriding response that she knew that when it was over, she would never be the same.
He hadn’t been certain she would take him, Doogan realized as he forced his eyes to focus on the point where his body became a part of hers. The responsive tissue hugging the base of his cock rippled and pulled at his shaft. Inside, the bite of the inner ring of muscles locked down on his erection and rippling around it was nearly too much pleasure to bear.
It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a woman’s ass, but it was the first time he’d heard that scream of surrender and felt a woman give herself to him like that.
He could feel it. She was open to him, taking every moment of pleasure, every shocking second of carnal hunger into her woman’s soul and locking around it while she gave a part of herself to him.
“Zoey, baby . . .” He wanted to sob for both of them. Because he felt her inside his soul, a presence so subtle he hadn’t even realized what had been spurring the hunger for her until now.
He shook his head.
No. Emotion wasn’t allowed. He could regret, hunger, he could even care. Love wasn’t reality. It was a fantasy. A fucking chimera . . .
And it was digging into his soul like talons.
A hard shake of his head didn’t clear it, no more than it cleared the beads of sweat stinging his fucking eyes.
Gripping her hips with both hands, Doogan concentrated on the pleasure, rather than the coming agony. Nothing mattered but this. The sweet lancing heat he could feel surrounding him, spilling from her, easing him.
Pulling back, watching the slick width of his cock stretching her flesh, he was still amazed she was taking him, stretching for him and begging for more. She was so tiny, so delicate . . .
He pushed inside her again, watching her take him. The need to cum was agony. Holding back wasn’t going to last . . .
Fuck.
Fire and lightning surrounded his erection, whipped through the sensitive flesh and arrowed so deep inside his chest he wondered if it had struck his soul.
She was so damned tight.
His fingers clenched at her hips, feeling her tighten further, her flesh rippling around him, the vibration of the erotic toy lodged in her pussy echoed to his cock, making each sensation stronger, deeper.
Ah God.
Sweat dripped into his eyes as he focused on that point where she stretched around him, watching her hug his cock, feeling her flex and tighten around him as he moved. He couldn’t stop moving. He had to fuck her, had to feel her like this, take her, bind her . . .
Whatever he’d meant to do when he began this, what he ended up doing was ripping away the lies she told herself and revealing a truth she feared would destroy her before it was over.
The sensations rocking her body, what he was doing to her, was more than just the physical act. The implications of it she might have enough brain matter left to ponder later, but she wondered for the briefest second, if she even wanted to consider them.
Restrained, at his mercy, nothing to hold on to but the instinctive awareness of trust or fear, Zoey learned she had the ultimate trust in Doogan.
The preparation, the penetration, and now the hard, heavy lunges of his hips, his flesh burying inside hers, rocking her to the core with so much burning pleasure she didn’t know if she would survive the coming cataclysm. But she didn’t try to avoid it either.
The explosion began in her clit, where Doogan tucked his palm between her thighs, allowing her to ride the sensations, to stroke the highly sensitive bud against his roughened flesh. That first detonation was all-consuming by itself. It ripped through her, jerking her body against his and setting off the explosion deep inside her pussy.
Her muscles clenched tight, dragging a groan from Doogan as he thrust into her rear channel, stroking the suddenly tense tissue despite the rapid-fire shudders and primal tightening of her body. When the powerful, soul-deep eruption reached its peak she screamed—or she tried to scream. Racking, heaving spasms attacked her as sensations so deep, so cataclysmic that they ripped through the very heart of her began setting off mini explosions of white-hot rapture.
She was flying through a storm of pure sensory awareness. Her body felt everything. The hard, jetting pulses of Doogan’s release shooting into her rear, the rasp of his flesh with each jerk of her body that raked her too-sensitive clit against his palm. The brush of the air. The feel of his heart racing against her back, the feel of his cheek against hers, his weight held from her by the strength of his arm next to her.
He didn’t mark her neck this time, but he didn’t have to. There was no reason to leave a mark for others to see ever again. He’d left his mark inside her, in her soul, and that would keep any other man from her bed far more effectively than a mark to her skin.
Then she couldn’t sense anything but the tidal wave of sensations as they converged and stole her ability to do anything but feel. The pleasure, the emotions suddenly running rampant through her heart, and the man behind her. And what she sensed there, she couldn’t hide from either. A man who refused to acknowledge that he could feel, that he could love.
The man who would break her was far too broken to ever be put together again.
Doogan lay with Zoey spread across his chest like a living blanket, boneless, recuperating after he’d released her, wiped the moisture from her body with a damp cloth, then dried her skin.
She might not be moving, but she was thinking, and she was thinking hard.
He’d known during that time he waited for her to return from her sister’s what he was going to do. Why he was doing it, he had refused to delve into at the time.
It wasn’t because she’d threatened her cousin with the possibility of a complete move and a relationship with two men known to give little mercy where the sensual pleasures they could give a woman were concerned.
It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d threatened to move in with one man, two, or a whole fucking unit. When the words slipped from her lips that she’d dare to allow another man to touch her, Doogan had existed on autopilot. Get to Zoey, take her, establish himself in the most intimate, the most instinctive way possible.
By marking her sensuality.
By owning it.
“Doogan?” The drowsiness in her tone was real, but he could feel what he had known was coming even before he’d touched her.
“Yeah, baby?” God, what had he done to both of them? He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lie to her.
“If I were really cold and called you, would you come keep me warm?” There was a note of amusement to her tone, as though it didn’t matter the answer. He knew the answer mattered, though.
“Every time,” he promised, knowing he would, knowing he’d be helpless against her need.
God, she’d slipped in when he hadn’t meant to let her in. Stole right past his determination to keep her out of his heart.
“Why did you wait so long to find me again, then?” She kept her head against his heart, and he wondered if she heard what was left of it break. “Why did you wait?”
He forced himself to swallow, forced himself to answer her.
“Because I was married.”
—
Zoey froze.
A chill washed through her. Where she’d been lazy and warm but a heartbeat before, she could now feel the icy fingers of fear invading her.
“Are you still married?”
“No, I’m not still married,” he assured her, his hand stroking down her shoulder. “And it takes more than a piece of paper to make a marriage, I believe.”
“Yeah, that’s what Dawg says.” Frowning, she tried to decipher the odd, dark note in his voice. “Did you divorce?”
“No. She died two years ago, the same day our daughter Katie was killed when she was struck by a car.”
That tone, it was pain. Regret. And Zoey sensed there was far more to it than the brief explanation.
“I’m very sorry, Doogan,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest, just over his heart. “That’s a
terrible loss.”
“Yes, it was.” Something in his voice had her heart breaking for him.
He’d lost the woman he loved and their child; where did that leave her where the future was concerned? The man she loved . . .
Dammit. She was in love with him.
That sucked.
His heart belonged to another woman, a dead woman. A woman who’d had his child, and that child was taken as well.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispered, stroking her shoulder once again. “I have a meeting in an hour or so. If you wake and I’m gone, I’ll be right back.”
Lifting her head, Zoey met his gaze, the somber, dark eyes watching her intently. “Super-spy stuff?” She arched her brows playfully, aching to take just a little of that too-serious, dark regret from his gaze.
“Super?” he snorted. “Not hardly. Boring, tedious follow-up. The life of a super-spy isn’t always guns blazing and cars racing.”
No kidding.
She was actually trained for guns blazing and cars racing and still hadn’t experienced it. The bad guys didn’t often get to Somerset.
Yawning and settling against him again, she curled into his warmth and let her eyes close. “Wake me when you get back. I have things to do.”
“Sleep, baby.” His lips brushed over her forehead.
As she closed her eyes, her last thought was the painful realization that Doogan had far more secrets than she’d ever imagined.
THIRTEEN
“I have the information you requested earlier.” Eli was angry. “Do you want company?”
Doogan nodded. “Wait in the truck till I get there. I have a few things to check before we head out. Text me the information and I’ll be down when I’ve finished.”
Eli nodded. Glancing to Zoey’s door, he gave a shake of his head before turning to leave the living area.
“Eli?”
The young agent turned back to him slowly. “Yeah?”
“Stay angry all you want, but the insubordination is going to begin causing problems soon,” Doogan warned him. “It’s time to let it go.”