The penetration, the pressure against her pussy had her bearing down, feeling the thick crest penetrate her muscles with a suddenness that had her head falling against his shoulder and a cry tearing from her throat.
“Brogan.” She sobbed, the demands her body was putting on her both confusing and frightening. “Fuck me now. Please. I can’t stand this.”
“Just a little more, baby.” He groaned, his fingers pulling back, working more of the natural lubrication inside her before penetrating her again. “Just a little more.”
She couldn’t wait just a little more.
His hand fell against her rear again and Eve lost her mind amid the shattering sensations tearing through her body.
The fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom registered only in the most distant part of her mind. The fact that his cock was inside her, working too slowly past the clenched muscles, wasn’t lost on her.
Lifting against him, feeling the flared crest of his cock throbbing inside her, Eve lowered herself against the impalement, forcing him deeper, harder.
His fingers pushed deeper into her rear, driving her to work her hips harder, to take more of him. His hand landed against her ass again in a firm little tap, almost a little slap, and sent a flare of such wicked heat racing through her system that nothing mattered but her desperation to reach her orgasm.
The dual penetrations were building a pleasure so hot, so wild inside her that Eve couldn’t bear the rising tension whipping through her. Her thighs clenched his, straddling them as she rode the fierce length of his cock with desperate movements.
She rose and fell, the heavy width stretching her pussy, stroking inside her as Brogan fucked her rear with his fingers and had her panting for air, fighting to scream out his name but unable to find the breath to do more than gasp.
Perspiration gathered on her body as the heat inside her begged for relief.
Brogan released the nipple he’d held in his mouth, his arm wrapped around her back as the fingers of the other hand thrust in an increased rhythm into the tender rear entrance and his hips began moving, driving his cock harder inside her, faster.
The heat of the morning gathered around them; the heat burning in their bodies began to flare and flame with sensation, burning their senses. Eve felt the conflagration as it happened as though in slow motion: The rake of her clitoris against his flesh as he drove inside her. The brutal pleasure that seared delicate nerve endings revealed by the thick width of his cock stretching her with burning pleasure. His fingers stroking inside her anus, stimulating nerve endings that responded with a strident clamoring for more.
Each sensation tightened, flamed, then erupted into an orgasm that shook her to her core.
It imploded inside her before exploding outward, sending her juices gushing against the rapidly thrusting movement of his cock and the sudden, heavy spurts of his release spilling inside her.
Her eyes opened wide in shock, met his, and that feeling of being a part of him was there again. As though time stopped and stilled for precious moments. As though nothing existed but the sensation of hurtling through space, locked in an ecstasy that neither of them could escape, and both of them shared—merging, melding, ecstasy that sealed them together for an impossible moment in time before hurtling them from an edge of such rapture that nothing else mattered.
Eve collapsed against him, only barely aware of the moment he fell backward on the bench, cushioned by the pad beneath them as Eve’s body was cushioned by his.
One arm locked around her, ensuring that she stayed in place, as they both fought to catch their breath.
Their hearts raced; their breathing was ragged, frantic.
Nothing existed outside the place they’d found for this one fragile moment. There was no danger; there was no anger or pain, confusion or impending heartache. There was nothing but the two of them, the pleasure that had bound them, and the certainty that, like an addiction, the need to touch, to taste, to hold each other again would be one for which denial would not be an option.
* * *
Finding the strength to pull themselves from the bench and dress took a while. As Eve pulled the thin silken camisole shell over her head and adjusted the thin straps over her shoulders, she looked up at Brogan.
Securing the dark leather of the belt at his hips, he hadn’t yet straightened his hair. The coarse, red-gold strands had fallen over his forehead and now lay disheveled around his head.
Scratching at his chest, he leaned down, snagged his shirt from the rug that lay over the stones, and pulled it over his arms. As he began securing the buttons, his gaze lifted as though drawn by the thought that suddenly seared her mind.
“What?” he asked absently, snagging his sneakers and untying them before propping himself against the heavy support column and pulling them over his feet.
“You didn’t use a condom,” she stated, watching him closely.
He paused for a moment before resuming with his shoes. Pulling the other one on, he tied them quickly before straightening and staring back at her.
“No, I didn’t,” he admitted—a little too calmly to suit her.
“You didn’t pull out either.”
His fingers raked through his hair, pushing it back, if not neatly, then at least into some kind of order.
“I know,” he admitted again.
She stared back at him, feeling a sudden disquiet begin to settle around her. “Why?”
He sighed heavily. “Because whatever’s going to happen began last night. The condom split, and before I could think to pull free, I was already spilling inside you. This morning isn’t going to make a difference.”
“You didn’t tell me this morning,” she stated, wondering why.
His jaw clenched brutally, a sudden feeling that he was pushing back something angry and bitter filling her senses.
“I was waiting to make certain it would be too late to use the morning-after pill,” he finally snapped, his eyes turning a dark gray as he glared back at her. “I don’t believe in it, Eve.”
She looked away, frowning heavily.
She couldn’t believe he had just said that. She couldn’t believe he would even suspect she would do something so horrible. That she would abort her baby, just get rid of it as though it were trash. Damn, he sure did have a hell of an opinion of her, didn’t he?
What hurt more, though, was the fact that he seemed to think it was okay to make that decision for her. That he thought she would be so easy to control and to maneuver.
He may not have lied to her, but what he had done was by far much worse: He had tried to take her free will, her right to a choice away from her.
“What?” he growled.
She rose from the bench, smoothed her skirt, then stared back at him painfully. “At what point, Brogan, did you begin to believe that you were entitled to make any decisions for me? Let alone one so important?”
Didn’t he know her any better than that?
There had been a few moments over the years when she had sworn she had known what he was going to do or say, or what his opinion would be even before he voiced it. Yet after all this time, he believed he needed to hide something so important from her rather than trusting her?
“When the decision involves me or mine, then I have some say in it,” he growled.
She laughed, a mirthless, angry sound that she didn’t bother to hide.
“No, Brogan, you only have the right to discuss it, and you just made damned certain you no longer have even that right.”
She moved from the grotto, aware of him following behind her, silent, a dark shadow keeping pace with her as she moved quickly back to the house.
Stepping inside the glass doors and hurrying through the living room, she suddenly came to a hard, surprised stop. Behind her, she heard Brogan curse, and she would have seconded the explicit word if it weren’t for the fact that she knew it was a word her brother was attempting to erase from his vocabulary.