Mine Until Morning by Jasmine Haynes

buttons on his shirt. “And you want it.”
    She should have crawled off the bed and run, but the sight of his chest mesmerized her, all that muscle, the dusky nipples, the thin line of hair arrowing down to his slacks. Then it was too late. He came down on top of her, straddling her, his hands pinning her shoulders, and put his face right down in hers, his breath sweet with Kahlua.
    “I’m spending the night tonight, and a helluva lot of nights after this. I told Kern I’d take care of you, and I will the only way I know how. By making you all 70
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    mine in every way.”
    Oh God. He wanted to control her, steal her independence.
    “So don’t fight me on this, Dani.”
    Her independence was the only thing she had left that was her own. She wasn’t giving it up without a fight.
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    MOONLIGHT KISSED HER CHEEKS, AND EVERY EMOTION PLAYED across her face. His cock was hard, his lungs aching with each breath. The feel of her beneath him stoked the fire burning in his belly. He knew she would fight. As much as she wanted the sex—oh yeah, heaving bosom, tight nipples, soaked pussy; she wanted that—she’d fight against every inroad he made into her life. He put his lips to her throat and bit her. “I always win every battle. Didn’t Kern tell you that?” he whispered, taunting. He wanted the war out of the way, over and done, victor taking the spoils.
    She thrust her hips, trying to shove him off, and pushed on his shoulders.
    “Get off me.”
    “Make me,” he muttered.
    She heaved, twisted, wriggled, pummeled. Not his face, but everything else she could reach. He’d never manhandled a woman, and he didn’t now, but her efforts turned his cock to pure steel.
    “If you do this, I’ll never forgive you.” She glared, an inferno in her gaze.
    “Maybe you won’t.” He reached down, grabbed the bottom of her dress where it had ridden up past her hips with all her squirming, and yanked. The seams gave, the threads popping. “I’m willing to take the chance.”
    “It’ll be rape,” she hissed.
    He held her chin in his hand. “Will it?”
    Her gaze flicked across him, from one eye to the other, and he wondered if she’d lie.
    “It’ll just be fucking.” She said the word with all the distaste she could muster, but he knew she wanted it. As badly as he did. Her panties went the way of her dress, in tatters and tossed to the carpet. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He bent to a beaded nipple, sucking it into his mouth, and pinched the other hard.
    She moaned, arched, her pussy riding the outline of his cock in his pants. He fucked her through the material, grinding his hips against her. Her sweet, hot scent rose around them.
    He tipped her head, thumb beneath her chin. “Ready?”
    “Whatever.”
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    “Undo my belt.”
    “Do it yourself.”
    He reached between them. Her pussy was slick, sweet, hot. He circled her clit, dipped inside, back out, rubbed slowly. She shuddered beneath him, her lids falling closed, lips parting.
    “Tell me you want it,” he whispered.
    “I hate it.” But she gasped, rolled with his rhythm, getting wetter, hotter.
    “You need it as much as I do.”
    She didn’t say a word, but raised her legs to his hips, locked her ankles across his ass.
    He kept it slow and sweet, taking her closer, but not giving her the ultimate, keeping her on the edge, but not pushing her over.
    “Oh God” slipped from her lips.
    “Undo my belt,” he said again, this time on a whisper of breath. She fumbled, finally got the job done. He backed off to let her pull the zipper, his fingers maintaining the slow, steady, mind-altering rhythm on her clit. Being naked would have been the best, but he didn’t dare leave her for the amount of time it would take. “Back pocket, there’s a condom.”
    She lifted her lids and smirked. “Aren’t we prepared?”
    He bent his head, his lips to hers. “You damn well know how much I want you. You’ve