She was lost and so was he.
Who knew that two broken hearts can connect to one.
Arabella's world has been rigged since the day she was born. Her fate had been decided for her much longer before she even had been conceived in the womb. So it came as...
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"Thank you," I whisper against his lips, but he doesn't let me breathe. His lips capture mine in a lethal, possessive kiss, making me throw my arms around his neck and push closer, craving every inch of him. My hips move on their own, grinding frantically against his groin, and he groans into my mouth—a low, filthy sound that I swallow whole. One of his hands stays tangled in my hair, pulling tightly to hold my head in place, while his other hand grips my ass, lifting me and guiding my soaking body against his hardening length.
"More," I moan, pulling back for a fraction of a second, but he yanks me right back into him.
His lips don't leave mine for even a breath as he flips us over, pinning my back onto the blanket. His heavy, muscular body hovers directly above mine, dark and imposing. When he finally pulls away, his chest is heaving, giving us both a second to catch our breath. My hand reaches desperately for his belt, but he dismisses my attempt, gently taking my wrist and pinning my hand above my head.
"Let me get you ready first," he rasps, his voice a gravelly, dangerous purr.
He trails his hot lips down my throat, over my collarbone, and down to my stomach, shoving my dress up past my waist. He breathes against my thin lace underwear, the heat of his mouth soaking through the damp fabric. I shiver, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as my back arches off the blanket. I reach for his hair, my fingers tangling in the strands to force his mouth onto me immediately.
"Patience, sweetheart," he chuckles darkly against my bare skin. The warm blast of his breath against my core makes my entire body tighten in electric anticipation.
His fingers move excruciatingly slowly, tiptoeing up the inside of my thighs before hooking into the sides of my panties. He rips them down my legs with careful, deliberate precision and tosses them aside. His calloused fingers brush directly across my swollen, dripping folds. My clit twitches violently, a thick rush of heat flooding through my veins. His dark, blown-out eyes never leave mine, devouring every flinch, every shiver, and every helpless sound he extracts from me.
Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he slides one thick finger straight into me. The slick wetness coats him instantly. Before I can even process the stretch, he adds a second finger, burying them deep and curling them up against my sweet spot.
I scream out a sharp gasp, my stomach muscles seizing as my hands clutch his hair, yanking him closer. He lets out a guttural groan against my inner thigh. I look down at him through hooded eyes; his face is flushed, his jaw locked tight, watching me with a raw, hungry intensity that makes my head spin.
"Does it turn you on when I pull on your hair?" My voice is thick, raspy, and completely ruined with desire.
"Fuck yeah," he growls against my skin.
To emphasize his answer, he runs his rough, calloused thumb in heavy, circular strokes directly over my swollen clit. The intense friction makes my entire body thrash. With his other hand, he pinches my clit firmly between his fingers, snapping my hips off the ground. The sheer overload of sensation is too much—my walls contract violently around his fingers, and I shatter with a breathless, vocal cry, my hips shuddering as my first climax crashes through me.
