Page 33 of Rebel Protector

“Becca,” he growled again, his voice rough and broken, but she didn’t let him pull away.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and desperate as she moved against him, her entire body trembling with need. “Fuck me. Now.”

CHAPTER 13

Fuck.

He couldn’t hold on.

The desperation in Becca’s voice said it all. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, pulling him closer like he was the only thing holding her together. She was breaking apart in front of him, and he had no choice but to catch her. His lips pressed hard against hers, feeding the hunger building between them.

Becca was wild, no longer thinking, just reacting. He helped her remove her panties, before she pulled him deeper into the kiss, her body arching against him as though nothing could close the gap fast enough.

Somehow, in between kissing her, he managed to loosen his jeans and yank them down to his ankles, then he hoisted her onto the counter, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist. The rawness in her movements—so desperate, so fierce—pushed him to the edge.

His breath caught in his throat when she clawed at his chest, her fingers trembling but insistent. Her need was electric, making every nerve in his body fire like a live wire. He didn’tbother fighting it. Hell, he’d wanted this just as much, maybe more.

He grabbed her hips and slammed her hard against him. Their bodies collided, and he sunk deep within her. No resistance, just a tight, hot sheath clenching around him.

She let out a ragged cry, and bit down on his lip. Christ, he’d never felt anything so intense, so magnificent.

Becca writhed against him, her hands everywhere—his chest, his back, pulling him closer, deeper, needing more. A frantic, primitive desire took over as he rushed headlong to meet her need. He gripped her hips, anchoring her on the counter as he drove repeatedly into her, hearing her gasps turn to moans and then to rasping cries.

“Oh, God. Dom!” Her head fell back, her chest rising and falling as she gasped his name. He loved hearing it. Loved knowing he was the cause of her delirium. She looked so beautiful with her full breasts bouncing erratically in front of him, her pink lips forming a little “O” and her dark hair cascading down her back.

Adrenaline and something he couldn’t describe shot through him, and he pounded into her, harder and harder, while gripping her hips and drawing her toward him for maximum penetration.

Shit, he was in so deep he could feel the end of her. With every thrust, her cries got louder, and soon he was grunting along with her, about to spiral over the edge.

“Becca...” he growled thickly trying to keep his focus but failing miserably. “Oh, shit, Becca. I don’t know how much longer I can hang on.”

Her only response was to pull him harder against her, grinding her hips with reckless abandon. Their movements became more frantic, more desperate. Her breath escaped in short, feverish bursts as she pressed her body against his, herhands clutching at him as though he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Every kiss, every thrust was a fierce claim, an unspoken plea to drown out everything else—fear, grief, uncertainty.

Ghost’s head spun, lost in the wild intensity of it all. He’d never seen her like this—so vulnerable, yet so powerful in her need. And God help him, he was right there with her.

He growled her name against her mouth, lost in the storm she’d pulled him into, knowing there was no way back.

Becca’s legs stiffened around his waist. She was coming, he could feel it. He kept going, driving into her as hard and fast as he could. This was insane. Totally out of fucking control insane. His head was swimming. He was losing it.

Holy fuck!

She clenched around him, sending him flying over the abyss. Her fingers gripped his back, nails dragging along his skin as she cried out, convulsing around him over and over again. She was so fucking beautiful, he couldn’t contain himself.

With every desperate thrust he exploded inside her, his vision blurring, and stars dancing at the edges. He kept going until he was completely and utterly drained.

Afterward, Becca leaned forward, dropping her damp forehead onto his chest. They were both slick with perspiration, their breath labored gasps as they struggled to get themselves under control.

He held her, waiting for his head to clear, trying to formulate a sentence, but he was too shellshocked to speak. That had been the most intense, fucking out-of-this-world, crazy experience. A rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew it was something.

Something big.

And it scared the hell out of him.

CHAPTER 13