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molded to him, pressed intimately, knowledgeably, to the hard length of his and ground against him. His fingers tightened in her hair and his tongue flicked out with lightning raids at her parted lips, touched her own questing tongue.
    "Now," she begged, her throaty voice husky with desire. "Take me now."
    "Not yet," he mumbled against her lips.
    She was on fire for want of him. His shaft was like steel along her lower belly and she felt her knees going weak as his right hand molded itself over her naked breast.
    "Please!" Her voice was thick, full of need. She pushed herself against him and groaned when he pulled back, denying her sensitive pubic region access to his hard thigh.
    "You can wait," he told her. His fingers squeezed her breast, his thumb rubbing insistently across the swollen nipple.
    Her arms tightened around his neck for a moment before her hand slid upward to thread its fingers through his silky hair. She pressed her mouth against his and thrust her tongue deeply inside, enjoying the low chuckle that erupted from the back of his throat.
    He pulled his lips free. "Eager little slut, aren't you?"
    His voice was raspy, tinged with a strange accent she couldn't identify, for it was like none she could ever remember hearing. There was a hardness to his playful tone, an intended insult in his easy words, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to be lying beneath him, to have him thrusting into her eager body as he had done many times in the past.
    "Don't make me ache like this!" she pleaded, moving against him. "Why do you make me ache like this?"
    His laugh was almost evil, she thought, as his hands moved to her buttocks. He cupped the high-rounded mounds and lifted her with ease, pulling her up his body until her legs went around his hips. She pressed herself to his naked strength.
    "You want it?" he mumbled against her mouth.
    Her throat closed as she felt him prodding at the juncture of her thighs. " Yes!" she breathed, arching against him. " Yes!"
    He pushed her against the wall, bracing her clinging body so he could put one hand down to his shaft. She felt his fingers scorching her as he guided his steel manhood to her eager lips. When he thrust into her, hard and savagely, she screamed her pleasure and clamped the muscles of her vagina around the velvety invasion of his body.
    "I love you," she told him as he began to stroke deeply within her.
    "Sure you do," he answered, never breaking his rhythm. His hips arched upward, his strong legs giving push to the thrusts.
    "I do, Lord Darkwind," she whispered against his cheek. "I love you."
    A snort of laughter came from him. He turned her around with him, walked to the bed, and fell with her, his weight nearly crushing her as he came down hard. He never broke contact with her as he scooted their joined bodies up the bed. He positioned her so he could brace his feet against the footboard and he drove into her hard enough to cause real pain.
    She screamed, no longer in lust and need. His throbbing shaft truly hurt her, and she knew he meant to hurt her. He enjoyed it. He always did. When would she ever learn not to tell him she loved him, she thought, as she felt her body being pummeled.
    "You like that?" he snarled against her cheek as he made her whimper. "Is that what you want, whore?"
    She took his abuse, feeling his steel-like rod jamming as far as it would go inside her. She felt his body tensing, knew he was about to vent his rage inside her, and clasped him to her, pulling his magnificent body as close to her own as she could get it.
    Although she had never seen his face, she knew his lips would be drawn back over his teeth in a snarl. She somehow knew his eyes, those brilliant, piercing orbs of midnight blue, would be hard and deadly. That had been the only thing she had ever seen of his face—those deadly eyes. Neither had she seen the hard-muscled body that was slamming against her own. She had felt it, the gods knew she had felt it, time and time