“Yes,” she cried out.

And she did. Too much. A distant part of her brain connected the dots. She knew what each touch was doing, what each fiery slap against her ass was creating. It was drawing her deeper into the web he was weaving around her soul. Making certain she belonged to him forever. That her soul always followed him, whether his followed hers or not.

Dawg watched as Crista’s ass turned a pretty, heated pink. It mesmerized him. Seeing her body accept each delicately placed, heavy caress. Never too hard. Always just enough to heat rather than burn.

And it was heating her. Not just her flesh, either. Her legs parted farther, mindlessly following the direction of his hand beneath her knee as he lifted her small foot to the desk drawer he had pulled free.

He propped it on the edge, watching as her rear parted, as the soft curl-laden folds between her thighs were revealed.

Dew glistened on those folds. Sweet, soft little droplets that had his mouth watering to taste, to lick. He parted the soft swells of her rear once again and leaned forward, groaning as his tongue found the heated core of her pussy and the hot syrup filling it.

Crista flinched, cried out his name, and pressed back, giving him more, begging for a deeper caress.

Not yet. Hell no, not yet. When he finished, he wanted to be certain that not so much as a hint of her former lovers remained in her dreams. He intended to brand her body and her mind with his touch, his possession. When the summer was over, leaving him would be like tearing out her own soul. He’d make certain of it. He had to make certain of it, because he couldn’t imagine losing her.

He nearly paused at the thought. Dawg, getting possessive. It was damned unheard of, but he was. So possessive that he growled, nipped at her smooth rear, then stiffened his tongue and drove inside the liquid hot depths of her pussy as he slid from his chair to his knees behind her.

Sliding the sweet, slick juices from her pussy back to her ass, he lubricated the little hole enough to take the tip of his finger. She flinched, cried out, then drove back, burying the digit to the first knuckle as he fucked his tongue hot and deep inside her.

She was like a fire, burning in his arms. Each time he took her, more memories from that long-ago night coalesced inside his head. They twisted and formed and raced through his mind with a force that left him breathless.

She had taken him then as she was taking him now: eagerly, heatedly, calling out his name in that broken little voice filled with need.

Pulling back, he turned her, ignoring her frantic little mewls of denial, and lifted her to the desk.

“Lie back.” His own voice bordered on demented. “Lie back, Crista. Give me what I need.

Now.”

She fell back, her hair fanning out around her sweat-dampened head as her hands reached back and gripped the edge of the desk.

Dawg spread her legs slowly as he lifted them, arranging her feet at the lower edge of the desk and staring at the swollen, wet folds awaiting him.

He bent forward, his eyes closing as his tongue took a slow, greedy lick through the narrow slit.

Crista jerked beneath him, her hips lifting, a low wail leaving her lips. The sounds coming from her throat were making him crazy.

“The sweetest pussy in the world,” he told her gently as he leaned back, smoothed his fingers over the wet curls and stared up her. “Will you have it waxed for me, Crista? Will you have all those pretty curls removed so I can taste your skin, lick all your juices, and show you how sweet and hot it can be when nothing hides you from me? Will you do that for me, sweetheart?”

He pulled the tube of lubrication from the opened bottom drawer as he let the fingers of his other hand smooth over the drenched curves.

“Dawg.” There was an edge of hesitancy and feminine distress in her tone. But her hips lifted to him, her body unconsciously seeking more.

Moving slowly, Dawg spread an application of the lubricating gel on his fingers, let it warm, then lowered his lips to the succulent flesh before him, while his slickened fingers moved to the sweet portal lower.

She cried out his name again as he pressed against the entrance to her anus. Her hips jerked, lifted, and a ragged cry filled the air as he pierced the narrow channel.

His tongue flicked around her clit, then he drew it inside his mouth as the second finger penetrated her tight rear.

God, she was fucking hot. She twisted beneath him, her juices spilling from her. His cock was aching like an open wound, and his balls were drawn so tight against his body that they were in agony.

“Answer me, fancy-face,” he groaned, lifting his lips from her sweet pussy and staring up at her as he worked his fingers inside the tender back hole. “Will you do that for me? Have your pussy waxed.

Make it all slick and soft for me.”

He reach back to the drawer and drew out the small butt plug he had taken from the package earlier. She liked that edge of pain. She liked the burning pleasure that seared her nerve endings and made the need for orgasm an erotic agony.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Anything. Anything you want.”

He drew his fingers from her rear.

“No. Don’t stop,” she pleaded raggedly. “Not yet, don’t stop.”

“Shh, baby. I’m not stopping. I’m going to make it better.” He lubricated the tapered toy. “So much better.”

He straightened, lifted her legs, and drew them together before pressing them back.

Her eyes snapped open. Nearly black in arousal now, they watched him warily, knowingly. She knew what was coming. She had seen the toys, knew he wouldn’t wait long before using one of them.

He pressed the narrow tip against the tiny puckered opening.

“No,” she whispered. “Not the toy. I want you there.”

His cock jerked as a grimace tightened his face.

“I’ll be there later, sweetheart,” he promised. “I want you to know what this is like. Filled from one end to the other. So hot and tight that you won’t know where pleasure ends and pain begins, because it’s all going to be so damned good that you can’t stop coming.”

The toy eased inside her, stretching her, causing her to arch and whimper with sensation as he watched the pleasure contort her face.

Dawg worked the toy inside her, easing it in, watching as the little hole spread to accommodate the toy and finally tightened around the narrower base. He watched as the muscles of her rear tightened and flexed as she fought to adjust to the stretching. Heard her muttered moans as he picked up the little remote that would activate the vibration inside it.

Placing her feet back on the edge of the desk, he pressed the switch and growled as she jerked, bucked. Her hips began to move, swaying and jerking as the plug began to not just vibrate but also flex inside her.

Her eyes flew open. Between her thighs, her juices began to build on the soft folds and silky curls.

Her body flushed, her nipples tightened.

“Oh God, Dawg.” She arched to him as he stepped closer, his dick gripped in his hand, the heavy crest tucking against the flexing opening. “Oh God. Fuck me. Fuck me, Dawg. Before it kills me…”

Dawg had to fight for control. The feel of silky wet heat on the crest of his dick had his teeth grinding together as he fought for control. Just a little more control. Just another minute to relish her surrender, her pleasure.

But she was so fucking hot. And he knew how tight she was, how hungry her pussy was when she was aroused. And he needed. God help him, just for a little while, he needed…

What had he done to her? Crista could feel the insidious vibration in her rear, the slow flex, an easing, then a stretching that began to make her insane for more.

Her eyes slitted open; she couldn’t manage to lift the lids fully, sensuality made her gaze heavy, made her body weak and melting. But she was able to watch Dawg.

His broad hands held her legs up beneath the knees. His eyes were centered between her thighs, to the spot were the head of his cock was tucked at the opening to her vagina.

She could feel him, a heavy presence at the entrance, hot and thick and ready to fill her.

“Dawg,” she whispered his name, a sigh of pleasure, a questioning breath as he paused.

Thick black hair fell along the sides of his face, straight and raven black, framing his savage features.

“Taking you is like losing myself,” he groaned roughly. “I feel you clasping my dick, Crista, but I feel you pouring into my soul.”

Celadon green eyes, so light they were like pale green ice, burned now. They flickered with a darker edge, gleamed with carnal knowledge.

Crista whimpered at the words as well as the look.

“Don’t do this,” she whispered tearfully, seeing the dark longing on his face, not the need to share, but the need to possess more than just her body.

He shook his head roughly, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a silent snarl as his hips moved, the broad head of his erection working inside her, stretching her, burning her.

“Did you walk away—” A hard breath hissed between his teeth. “Did you leave without looking back?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t do this. She could let him have all of her.

“Answer me.” He paused, the head of his cock filling her, teasing her. Daring her. “Did you look back?”

“Please, Dawg…”

“Tell me.”

Another inch. The movement he made didn’t ease his cock inside her, that additional inch was taken with a hard flex of his hips and a destructive flame along the tender nerve endings it stroked.

“Yes,” she cried out. The words falling unbidden from her lips. “I’ve always looked back.”

His hands clenched on her legs.

“You didn’t forget.” His voice softened then, his cock shifted and moved inside her, stroking her, taking her by the smallest degrees with each movement.

She couldn’t hide from him. She wanted to. She needed to.

“I never forgot.” A tear fell from the corner of her eye. “I never forgot you, Dawg.”

Her heart never forgot. Her soul never released the memory of his touch, his hard voice whispering at her ear, his hunger, or her need for him. Her love. The soul-deep, unquenchable agony of loving him.

“Don’t cry, fancy-face.” His voice was graveled now, thick and rough as she felt the agonizing pleasure beginning to engulf her. “I’ll take care of you.”

Each inch of his erection inside her was like a brand laid to the tender muscles. A brand of fiery sensation and exquisite pleasure.

Crista arched, driving him deeper inside her, feeling the piercing, burning sensation of being doubly penetrated, exquisitely stretched.

“There, sweetheart.” He wrapped her legs around his hips as he leaned closer, his head lowering to her nipples, adding to the ecstatic pleasure already gripping her by drawing one tight bud into his hot mouth and suckling it deeply.

His hips were moving, his cock thrusting slowly, working into her with each thrust as the overwhelming sensations of heat, stretching, and brutal pleasure began to build inside her.

It was always like this with Dawg. The world centered to two beings, time stopped, nothing mattered but this, with him, the feel of him fucking her, owning her.

He owned her.

He thrust inside her, and she arched to take him deeper.

His lips, teeth, and tongue consumed her nipples, one then the other, and her hands threaded into his hair to hold him closer.

“So good,” he whispered. “So sweet and tight.”

Her body reflexively tightened further around him, muscles contracting, her soul glorying in the harsh male groan that whispered around the nipple his mouth returned to.

“Beautiful.” He buried his head between her breasts, the rhythm of his hips increasing, and she spurred him on with her cries and her pleas for more.

“Mine!” he snarled, and she exploded around him.

Her orgasm tore through her as his thrusts became harder, deeper. He pounded into her, shafting her with surging strokes and fucking into her with an ever-growing greed.