Wild Men of Alaska 04 - Wild Men of Alaska - Four Book Bundle

her slick folds, rubbing the sensitive area that had her wrenching her mouth free on a cry, and sinking her teeth into his shoulder.
    He refused to enter her. Not yet.
    “ Sergei. ”
    How he loved a demanding woman.
    His mouth captured the nipple of one breast, his fingers the other as he continued to grind against her.
    She growled, losing patience with him, and tossed him over onto his back. The strength it took for her to be able to move a man like him, one who had expected her to make the move, so astonished him that he lay there on his back stunned for a moment.
    A moment that was his undoing.
    She straddled his thighs. He could see where they would have control issues. They both liked dominant positions. This was going to be fun.
    And torture.
    Retribution shined in her eyes as her hands teased their way down his body, her mouth following in their wake as she licked and nipped at his chest, his nipples, down the contours of his stomach, to grasp the base of his shaft in her hand.
    Her tongue circled the tip.
    He snarled, watching her as she took him in her mouth. Heat infused him, and colors painted the room. She knew what he liked, how to run her teeth, her tongue, enclose her lips over his flesh to where if he didn’t get her to stop he’d lose himself right then and there.
    He had more planned for them.
    He grabbed her shoulders and lifted her off him. She gave a startled cry as he tossed her onto her stomach, and twisted to hunch over her. His hands held her arms, his feet locking her legs down to the mattress. In a sense, he’d restrained her again. She couldn’t touch, tease, torment, or fight him this way.
    “Sergei,” she warned, a little apprehension coming through in her tone.
    He was beyond speech, overcome with need. He kissed her neck in a vain attempt to express regret for not taking this slower like he’d intended. Next time. Or the time after that. His teeth raked her skin, his mouth trailed down her back, all the while keeping her imprisoned within his dark embrace.
    Spreading her legs, he pushed himself heavy between them and penetrated her from behind in one hard, deep thrust.
    Air escaped her in a gasp while he growled with the intense pleasure, tightness, and heat as he sheathed himself deeply within her. His hips drove into hers, the power and weight of his body keeping her captive beneath him. He released her hands and burrowed his under her, one banding her chest, his hand holding her breast, the other snaked down her stomach to find and stroke her clitoris.
    She screamed as she came, and he still rode her. Not giving any quarter as he took her, forcing one climax after another from her until he could no longer withhold his own.
    A guttural sound escaped his lips as he gave himself over to the pleasure that had the power to bind him to her forever.

C HAPTER F IFTEEN

    Kate woke up...alone.
    Memories of how devastated she’d felt the last time this had happened sank into her consciousness. Quickly followed by the heavy guilt of Perry’s death later that same morning. Her shame and culpabilities had been hard to explain to her superiors and herself. She’d promised herself that this wouldn’t happen again. And here she was.
    Alone.
    Sunshine sliced through the windows. The blizzard had blown itself silent much like the fervor she’d had for Sergei’s blood. By her calculations, since the sun didn’t rise early in Alaska this time of year, it was around noon. The aches and tenderness in her body bore testimony that she hadn’t dreamt last night or early this morning. She’d been well used. And had done an equal amount of using herself.
    She tossed her hair out of her face and rubbed her eyes. How much ground had she lost? Each time they’d come together, she’d lost more of her heart to him until she didn’t know how much of it was actually hers anymore.
    The door suddenly opened, and Sergei entered. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder and he held coffee mugs in each hand.
    He paused in the doorway. “ Dobriy den’ ,” he murmured, his tone gritty, slumberous.
    “Afternoon,” she returned, understanding at least that much Russian. She didn’t want to think about how she looked as his eyes drank her in. She’d never cared about her appearance before. Just because this bear of a man stood there all hot and sexy didn’t mean she needed to add a bit of make up, though she suddenly felt compelled to do so. Sergei had dressed in another flannel shirt, this one a