Unforgettable (The Dalton Gang #3) by Alison Kent

between her legs. He laughed as he settled his mouth over her pussy, pushing apart her thighs to slide a finger deep. She gasped, groaned, and he crooked it to rub against the sensitive pillow just inside her opening, a grating sort of scratch that sent her soaring.
    His tongue slid low, dipping into her entrance when he pulled his one finger free, sliding back up through her inner lips when he pushed back in with two. She raked her fingernails over his scalp, and he laughed again, a growling, guttural sound, his teeth catching lightly at her clit and scraping over it before he sucked her into his mouth. The pressure was too much. She lifted up onto her toes and let go, shuddering, tugging at his hair as she came.
    Sensation rushed her like a wave, knocking into her and nearly taking her off her feet. Boone wrapped an arm around her waist and held her, finishing her off before moving up her body, drawing the flat of his tongue up her midsection until he’d reached her throat, then her mouth. And then he kissed her, his lips demanding, his teeth sharp, his tongue finding and mating with hers.
    When he dipped to lift her, she grabbed his shoulders for purchase, holding on while he carried her to the bed. There, he rolled the both of them to the center, sheathing himself with a condom before covering her. His big body made her feel fragile and small. She pulled her knees along his hips, and he settled between her thighs, reaching down to guide his cock into place, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he did.
    “Does this mean you’re happy?” she asked, running a finger over his lips and into his dimple hidden by beard stubble.
    He turned his head to bite at the heel of her palm. “I was just thinking this is a hell of a way to spend a lunch hour.”
    She couldn’t disagree. And as he pushed into her, filling her, joining their bodies fully, she hooked her heels in the small of his back for the ride. He rocked against her slowly, his elbows above her shoulders on either side of her head, his fingers toying with her hair where it fell across his pillow, no doubt in a messy splay of waves that would soon be tangles—and she couldn’t be bothered to care.
    How could she when her body was buried beneath his, the mattress soft beneath her, the sheets smelling of Boone and Boone smelling of the wide-open spaces? He pushed in and pulled out, buried his face in the crook of her neck, grunted against her skin and bit down. A tingling sensation, like an electric buzz beneath her skin, raised the hair on her arms, at her nape, and coursed through her limbs until even her fingertips prickled from the powerful surge.
    They’d been in bed for only minutes, yet she was ready to come for the second time. She wanted to wait, to draw out all of what she was feeling, to let it take her over, pull her under, consume her, but Boone chose that minute to increase his speed, and the strength of his thrusts sent her over. She cried out, pushing up against him as he shoved her down, quaking on top of her, grinding against her, the base of his cock like a steel rod shoved hard to her clit.
    He groaned, a long, gut-wrenching sound that vibrated through his whole body. She felt it in his chest, crushing hers, in his belly, where his hair sparked friction against her skin as he writhed, in the short ragged bursts of air blowing furnace hot on her neck. She finished as he did, both of them sighing out long, exhausted breaths, both of them laughing softly.
    She came down from an incredible high, rubbing circles along his spine, loving the resiliency of his skin, the muscles beneath, the way he shimmied under her hands. It was magical, making a big man like Boone Mitchell react to her touch, and one so simple after the near violence of the intimacy they’d just shared. Yet it was a violence she’d invited, and engaged in, and wanted more of, because this was Boone; and he was giving, not taking, not demanding, not hurting. It was a heady