Rhyannon Byrd - Rush of Pleasure

He was standing in the middle of a forest … and he was with Will. A bloodred moon hung low over the trees, scarred by the jagged edges of dark cloud that stretched across the sky. The air was warm, sweet with the scent of Willow’s skin, the night silent but for the whispering of the wind and their sawing breaths.

They were both dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but her nipples were pressed tight against the thin cotton, and Noah felt himself reaching out for her, covering the soft weight of her breast with his hand. She gasped, her head falling back, and with a low growl on his lips, he took her mouth in a desperate, searching kiss, as if he was trying to find the answer to something important. Something … vital.

Noah didn’t know how long they stayed in that tight, clutching embrace, arms wrapped around each other, the tenor of the kiss bordering on violence. He thrust his tongue against hers with a greed that left him shaken, then nipped at her bottom lip, unable to get enough of the sleek, petal-soft textures … the warm, honeylike taste. It was a rich, drugging sweetness that made his blood go thick, his cock pulsing with a raw, insistent ache. He ran his hands down her back until he gripped her ass, then yanked her close, her body soft and pliant against his hardness, melting into him.

God, he needed this. Even if it was only a dream. He needed all of her. Needed her on his tongue, on his skin. Needed to spread her open and drive his body inside hers until she’d taken every demanding inch of him. Until he could feel the hammering of her heartbeat thrumming around the heavy length of his cock as he stretched her open, her arms and legs locked tight around his body, holding him close. Binding him to her.

His hands gripped tighter as he lifted her up, grinding her against his erection with an animal-like sound of pleasure. He moved forward a few steps, trapping her against the gnarled trunk of a towering oak tree. Curving one hand around the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her soft curls, he slid the other down the back of her thigh. As he lifted her leg higher on his hip, the position allowed him to rub more fully against the warm cushion of her sex. She moaned in response, whispering his name, and the soft sound of longing pierced right through him, like a bullet. It struck with a violent force that ripped him from the lush, delicious depths of the dream, jerking him back to a shocking awareness.

With his chest heaving, Noah opened his eyes and took in the startling reality of his surroundings. The cheap motel room, instead of the forest. A scarred headboard instead of the gnarled, towering tree. But Willow was still in his arms. Still moaning and writhing against him, her legs hugging his hips, his knees braced in the bedding. She moved like she wanted to crawl under his skin, driving him out of his mind.

Driven by blinding urgency, his hand shook as he grasped the hem of her tank top and shoved it up, his mouth closing hotly over a sweet, pink nipple. She cried out at the intimate contact, the throaty sound making him wild. He used his tongue to stroke and lick, nipping with his teeth, before sucking on her with a hunger that just kept rising. He could not get enough. Not of her taste or her skin or those provocative little sounds she kept making. The way she arched against his mouth, seeking more … or the breathtaking quiver of desire shivering through her limbs. The way she wound her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer.

God … I need her. Want her.

Just her. Her. Her …

In that moment, all of Noah’s concerns were forgotten. He was an animal, primal and male, at the mercy of his baser hungers. He grunted with feral satisfaction as he lifted her body higher, trapping her against the headboard with the burning heat of his body, his muscles coiled hard and tight. Her dazed eyes went wide as he gave a raw, guttural growl, just before he covered her mouth with his, his blood roaring in his ears as visceral craving bore down on him, obliterating reason and logic. Smashing it with a violence that should have shaken him … but he was too far out there, existing in pure sensation.

She didn’t fight him, but her mouth had been shocked into stillness beneath his—passive, simply taking, accepting—and he wanted her hunger. Wanted the bite of her nails and her mind-blowing passion.

He wanted her wild for him.

“Goddamn it, kiss me back,” he snarled, holding the side of her face in his hand. She moaned, tilting her head, fitting her mouth more closely to his. “Please,” he gasped against her silky lips, his voice cracking as he begged her … pleading. “Kiss me back, Will.” And then he felt the soft, sweet stroke of her tongue, and his body shuddered violently in response to that delicate, seeking touch. Within seconds, the kiss became something explicitly carnal, devastating in its power. Noah kissed her like he wanted to consume her. Like he never wanted to stop. And he didn’t. He wanted it to last forever. Wanted to keep drinking in that warm, heady flavor, loving the way she tasted on his tongue. Loving that for once in his godforsaken life, reality was so much better than the dream.

With another feral, rumbling growl, he broke the kiss, pressing his mouth to the sharp point of her jaw as he sucked in lungfuls of her mouthwatering scent, his chest heaving. Heat shot up his spine, roaring through him as he reached for the waistband of her pajama bottoms, wrenching them down as far as he could get them with her legs wrapped around his waist. His body shuddered as he pressed his hand between her thighs, stroked through the plump, slippery folds that were drenched with heat, then thrust a long finger inside her. She cried out again, panting against the side of his face, her nails biting into his shoulders, while her inner muscles spasmed, clasping him tighter, fighting to hold him inside her. He made a thick sound as he pressed deeper, loving the way she clung to him, so tender and hot, and he pulled his head back so that he could watch her eyes. Watch the pleasure climb, shocking her, the moment so intimate it made his chest hurt. He’d done this with too many women to count, and yet, in that moment, he couldn’t remember a goddamn one of them.

Not. A. Single. One.

All he could see was Will.

It was mesmerizing, watching the emotion flash through her dark eyes as he stroked inside her, penetrating the plush sheath, pushing deep, then slipping his finger back out and swirling the callused tip wetly over her clit. She trembled, her mouth open for a soundless word that looked like More, and he locked his jaw as he pushed back in, giving her two fingers this time. Her sex was tight and wet and scalding around his fingers, burning him alive, and he braced her with the press of his body so that he could free his other hand to shove down his boxers.

She cried out again, his name spilled huskily from her kiss-swollen lips, and the next thing Noah knew, long, lethal fangs were bursting into his mouth, heavy and throbbing and hot—just like the ones he had in his nightmares. But he was too far gone to care. He pressed himself against her, stroking the heavy head of his cock through her slick, swollen folds, his breath leaving his chest in ragged bursts as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Her skin was deliciously smooth against his scratchy cheek, her scent an intoxicating lure. Unable to resist, he put his mouth against the tender column of her throat, the hunger demanding that he possess and mark her in the most primal, savage way that a male could mark his mate.

Just as the blunt tip of him nudged her entrance, he scraped his fangs across her sumptuous flesh, on the verge of taking his first bite, when she gripped two handfuls of his hair and wrenched his head back.