Page 20 of Snowbound with the Vineyard Owner (Angel’s Peak #6)

Even as I splinter around Dominic, shaking, gasping, sobbing against his shoulder, he keeps moving inside me—relentless, brutal, unstoppable.

His cock drags against oversensitized flesh with every savage thrust, wringing more helpless cries from my throat, battering deeper, harder, until I don’t know where I end and he begins.

He growls—a low, vicious sound that vibrates against my skin—and clamps his hands under my thighs, pinning me even tighter around his hips. His body surges against mine, slamming me harder into the wall, the wood groaning beneath the violence of it.

“Not done,” he grits against the curve of my jaw, voice wrecked and wild, every word a sharp, broken scrape. “Not fucking done with you yet.”

His mouth claims mine with a ferocity that steals the air from my lungs. There’s nothing careful about the kiss—it’s punishing, primal, all teeth and heat and the furious rhythm of his body pounding into mine.

I open for him without thinking, without hesitation, desperate for everything he’s giving, everything he’s taking. His tongue tangles with mine in a rough, desperate kiss that leaves me dizzy, his hips slamming into me with punishing force, driving me higher, driving me mad.

The muscles in his back flex under my clutching hands, taut and trembling with the brutal control he’s barely hanging onto. Sweat slicks his skin, the salt of it mixing with the smoky taste of him on my tongue, the scent of sex and fire and him thick in the air, drowning me in it.

He tears his mouth from mine, snarling against my lips, “You feel this, Elena? You feel what you fucking do to me?”

Another savage thrust, deep enough to punch the air from my lungs.

I moan, the sound wrecked and broken and needy, but I can’t answer. I can only cling to him harder, my nails digging into the hard, sweat-slicked muscle of his back, desperate to anchor myself against the overwhelming onslaught of him.

Dominic curses low and filthy under his breath, the rough edges of the words dragging a fresh shudder from my battered body.

Then he shoves in deeper, grinding against the spot inside me that makes my vision black out at the edges, that sends a brutal second orgasm ripping through me with a violence that leaves me shaking in his arms.

I don’t even realize I’m sobbing his name until he growls and clamps his mouth over mine again, swallowing the sounds like he can’t bear to hear me fall apart without claiming it, without claiming me.

The hard thrusts falter, grow ragged, desperate.

Dominic lifts his head just enough to look down at me—his eyes burning molten gold, wild and unchained—and the sight is my undoing all over again.

He slams into me one last time with a snarl torn from the pit of his chest, grinding deep as he empties himself inside me with a violence that leaves his whole body shuddering against mine.

I feel every pulse.

Every brutal, claiming surge.

Every shattered breath that rips from his lungs, I swallow into mine.

He doesn’t let go of me, even when the aftershocks tear through him. He holds me pinned against the wall, forehead pressed to mine, both of us panting, shaking, wrecked.

The only sounds are our ragged breathing, the crackle of the dying fire, and the frantic hammering of my heart against his.

Dominic doesn’t loosen his grip.

Even spent, even shaking, he keeps me crushed against the wall, his cock still buried deep inside me, locking me there like some primitive claim. His fingers flex under my thighs, bruising and possessive, like he’s anchoring me to him by sheer force of will.

I can feel the wild hammer of his heart against my chest.

The ragged pull of his breath against my mouth.

The full, brutal weight of his body trapping me there, mine now in a way that has nothing to do with words and everything to do with need.

Slowly—deliberately—Dominic shifts his weight.

A rumble vibrates deep in his chest, low and threatening, as he pulls his cock free, the wet, obscene sound of it dragging a broken whimper from my throat.

He ignores it.

Ignores the way I tremble.

Ignores the ruined sounds spilling from my lips.

He only tightens his hold, jerks me higher against him, and stalks toward the fire like a man carrying off a prize he’s fought a hundred battles to win.

My arms wind instinctively around his neck, helpless to do anything else.

My legs cling tighter to his hips, muscles spasming from the sheer brutal use of them, from the overwhelming stretch of him still throbbing between my thighs.

Dominic doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t ask.

Doesn’t give me a choice.

He takes. He shows me what it means to surrender …to him.

He drops to his knees in front of the hearth, hauling me down with him, laying me out on the thick fur rug in a rough spill of limbs and tangled hair and sweat-slick skin.

The firelight carves him into something savage—something elemental—as he looms over me. His hair falls wild into his face, his jaw shadowed with dark stubble, his eyes molten with a hunger that looks like it could burn the whole fucking world down.

He strips the ruined flannel from my body in a savage yank, tossing it aside like the thin, useless barrier it always was.

His hands roam my naked body without restraint now, rough palms and calloused fingertips branding trails across my flushed skin—up my ribs, across my belly, cupping my breasts in greedy, brutal handfuls that make me arch and whimper beneath him.

He doesn’t pause.

Doesn’t soothe.

He’s starving.

He palms my throat—not squeezing, just holding me there, his thumb stroking a rough, claiming line along the curve of my jaw—and growls low in his throat.

“You belong to me now,” he rasps, so guttural and raw it barely sounds human. “Fucking mine.” Before I can breathe, before I can even process the savage finality of it, Dominic dives down.

His mouth closes over one breast, biting, sucking, devouring me with a ferocity that sends my back arching clean off the floor.

His free hand clamps down on my hip, holding me down when I would have writhed away from the overwhelming drag of his tongue, his teeth, the brutal scrape of stubble against hypersensitive skin.

He wrecks me with his mouth.

Devours every inch he can reach, moving from breast to belly to thigh with a rough, single-minded greed that strips me down to raw, trembling nerve endings.

When he finally shoves my legs wider with his shoulders and buries his face between my thighs, I sob—loud and broken and shameless.

Dominic groans like he’s tasting salvation, his hands locking around my hips, dragging me up into his mouth as he feasts on me like he’s starving.

There’s no teasing.

No slow buildup.

He licks and sucks and bites with ruthless, devastating focus, grinding his face against my dripping, aching flesh until pleasure tears through me like a bolt of lightning—violent, unstoppable, shattering me all over again.

I scream for him.

For this.

For the brutal, beautiful way he takes me apart and doesn’t let me hide from it.

And still he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, licking into me, sucking every last broken sound from my lips, until I’m a ruined, whimpering mess on the rug, clawing at his shoulders, babbling his name like a prayer.

When he finally lifts his head, his face is wet with my juices, his mouth swollen, his eyes pure molten gold.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand—slow, deliberate—and growls, “Not done with you, yet. Barely started.”

Then he grabs my hips, flips me onto my stomach in one brutal, effortless movement, and drags me up onto my knees.

Before I can catch my breath, the thick, hot head of his cock presses against my soaked, trembling entrance. And with one savage thrust—one devastating, claiming push—Dominic drives back inside me.

Hard.

Deep.

Home.

Dominic doesn’t give me a chance to adjust.

He plunges into me in one hard, punishing stroke, forcing a broken cry from my throat as my body clamps down around the brutal stretch of him.

There’s no patience. No mercy. Only raw, desperate hunger.

He growls low in his chest—a vicious, territorial sound—as he buries himself to the hilt, his hands clamping down on me with bruising force.

One at my hip, fingers digging deep into my skin, holding me there, owning me—the other fisting in my hair, yanking my head back until my spine bows and my mouth falls open on a ragged, shuddering gasp.

The position leaves me completely helpless, utterly at his mercy, spine arched, breasts bared to the hungry, burning gaze he drags down my body.

I feel the weight of that look.

The possession in it.

The feral promise that he’s not stopping until I belong to him in every possible way .

Dominic’s grip tightens in my hair, a rough, savage tether, and he surges forward—hips snapping hard enough to shove me across the thick fur rug.

A guttural noise rips from his throat, half curse, half prayer, as he thrusts again.

And again.

And again.

Each brutal stroke slams into the deepest, most sensitive part of me, sending sparks exploding behind my eyes, stealing the breath from my lungs.

My hands claw at the rug, searching for something—anything—to hold onto. But there’s nothing.

There’s only him.

Only the overwhelming force of his body pounding into mine.

Only the savage pull of his hand fisted in my hair, keeping me locked tight against him, unable to run, unable to hide.

He’s everywhere.

Filling me.

Claiming me.

Breaking me down to nothing but gasps and sobs and mindless, desperate need.

Dominic growls low, the sound vibrating straight down my spine. His fingers flex at my hip, gripping harder, bruising, branding, each stroke harder than the last.

“God, look at you,” he grits, voice rough and wrecked. “So fucking perfect like this. Taking me.”

I sob, wrecked by the crude, devastating beauty of his words, the relentless, brutal rhythm of his body hammering into mine.

Savage pleasure builds deep in my core, tightening harder and harder with every brutal thrust. Dominic yanks my head back further, forcing my gaze up to him.

The firelight turns him into something unholy—wild, untamed, beautiful in the most dangerous way possible.

His teeth bare in a snarl of raw hunger as he looks down at me—at the way I tremble for him, at the tears streaking hot down my cheeks, at the way my body clutches desperately at his cock like it never wants to let go.

His voice rips from him, rough and merciless:

“Come for me.”