Jungle Fever Bundle by Hazel Hunter

suction that would soon be drawing him back inside. Her hands were on his back and her hips tilted up to him. He hadn’t yet finished his stroke but her movement urged him back into her. He pushed again, letting her body draw him in, feeling the different angle of her pelvis opening her to him. She panted again and whimpered but there was no stopping him this time. He sank himself deeper, steadily inward, feeling her tighten around him, and her body squirm. Then, when he could no longer hold back, he thrust.

    • • • • •

    Clark's body was more than amazing–it was impossible. Though she’d longed to touch it, feel his torso flexing against hers since that night outside his bedroom, she’d never dreamed of what waited under the loose fitting shorts. His narrow hips were topped with muscles that flexed as he moved and formed a V down to his groin. His abdomen was so flat it almost curved inward. Not an ounce of fat lay between his skin and the veins and muscles that constantly moved underneath. And his arousal was almost more than she could take.  
    Suddenly, he thrust into her.
    She cried out at the sudden impact, a mixture of pain, relief, and pure ecstasy. His groin ground into her sweet spot even as his penetration threatened to split her. Massive and thick, she could barely move around it. As he withdrew, pressure released inside her and then suddenly he thrust again. She involuntarily grunted at the impact.
    “Jean,” she heard him whisper hoarsely. “Is it too much?”
    “No,” she gasped. “No.”
    And then he thrust into her again, even harder.  
    She grunted again, louder, and was about to spread her legs even wider, when she felt his arms around her. They were rolling and suddenly she was on top. She opened her eyes to see his torso spread out below her: the flaring muscles at his sides, the bulging curves of his pecs. No sooner had she realized where she was than his hands were on both her breasts.
    He tugged her lightly toward him and her hands landed on the comforter next to his head. The pressure in her abdomen lessened and her sweet spot scraped against his groin. She moaned deeply, closed her eyes and lowered her head as she gave in to the new sensation. His arousal was still immense but she could move. Her hips wasted no time.
    They began to pump into him, clenching in quick bursts, as her back arched and bowed, and then arched and bowed again. Her breathing came in rapid shudders.
    “Yes,” she heard Clark hiss below her and she felt him thrust upward.  
    It was like a pole of steel, riding straight into her. She drew her knees in to get some separation, to lessen the pressure, as his hands went to her waist. The tight coiling of tension began in her abdomen as he thrust again, even higher. Her sweet spot collided with him and the clench clamped down on him hard.  
    He groaned loudly as his hands squeezed her waist.
    Her hips jerked back and forth, striving for rhythm, but she was quickly spiraling out of control. On top, she could have as much of him as she could handle and now she wanted it all. As he thrust upward yet again, she sat back. Her full weight crushed her sweet spot and, as he thrust again, her clamping pulsed. He lifted her then, almost off her knees, and she felt him drive into her more deeply than she thought possible. But the clenching, once started, couldn’t be stopped. It rocked her torso in great waves, shook her from groin to shoulders, and she violently rode him even as he cried out.
    Then she felt his release. From the base of his arousal to the very tip, his climax shot upward and then slapped into her. She threw her head back.
    “Clark,” she breathed in a high-pitched whine, as her climax matched his.  
    She clamped on him again, wave after wave, her body rocking on top of him, straddling him, letting him go as deep into her as he could. He pulsed inside her again and his upward thrust suddenly released only to be replaced with a series of quick