Page 7 of Just One More Night

Indy had known many things then. That he was not a good man in the way she’d previously conceived of that phrase. That what she was doing was not a good idea, no matter how it felt. And that no one would ever understand how this had not only happened—but why she hadmadeit happen.

But she had never been the good sister.

Because she also knew—as their gazes had clashed again, as she had notched the wide head of his cock at the mouth of her pussy—that this man was her fate.

That she had always been meant for this.

Right there. With him.

Now, he’d ordered her.

She hadn’t understood until then that she’d been waiting for that, too. For him.

It had felt like running to the edge of a terrible cliff and then throwing herself off. And not caring at all, in the final moment, if she would fall or fly.

Indy had slammed herself down, impaling herself on him.

And she’d screamed out as she did it because he was so big that it hurt, so big that it was wildly, astonishingly uncomfortable to take all of him like that, and sofast.

But she’d known there was no other way to do it. It was like a kind of virginity because it was him. Them. It wastheirs, the agony she was prepared to put herself through for one staggering beat of her heart. Then another.

And it had been entirely worth it when his mouth crooked up in one corner.

Foolish girl, he’d said in that quietly dark way of his that made everything in her sing.I like that you want to suffer for me.

Then he’d moved.

And any suffering she’d felt was gone that easily.

Because he’d fucked her like he’d known all the same things she did.

Like his cock, that big, battering ram of a cock, had been specifically designed to hit everywhere she’d needed it. He’d kept his hard hand on her ass, lifting her and slamming her in time with his thrusts, so that all she could do was melt into it. Become part of it.

His other hand, tangled in her hair, had kept her arched back so he could get his mouth on her throat, her lips. Down to her breasts and back again as he liked.

And he’d liked.

Indy had lost track of how many times she’d come. Again and again. Over and over. Because it turned out that what he liked, she liked, too.

And on he’d gone anyway, because he’d been making them one.

It was some kind of magic, fusing them together. Imprinting them on each other, because this was fate.

Maybe it might look like a simple fucking, but Indy had known better.

He was making them real. He was making sure the both of them knew that neither one of their lives would ever be the same.

Because how could anything have been the same after that?

When he came she could feel him inside her, scalding her, and she’d loved that, too.

And then, for a while, they’d had to stay like that. Slumped into each other in the front seat of his SUV because neither one of them was breathing too well.

He’d recovered first. He’d lifted her, muttering another curse when she’d made a little sobbing sound at the loss of his cock. He’d set her in the passenger seat beside him, then winced as he’d folded his cock back into his jeans.

I am Stefan, he’d told her in that growl of his that had made her think of wolves again. She’d smoothed her red skirt down toward her thighs and shivered.Stefan Romanescu.

Indy, she’d replied.Indy March.