Page 56 of Taming the Eagle

Gripping her under the arms, he hauled her up so that she no longer sucked him.

Fenella gave a cry of protest—for she’d been enjoying herself, and hadn’t planned to stop until he spilled his seed in her mouth—but Aquila pushed her back onto the couch.

Their gazes met, the moment raw and breathless.

Fenella’s heart slammed against her ribs, sweat beading across her skin. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear. She wanted to look away, yet she couldn’t.

Murmuring an endearment, Aquila spread her wide once more and placed his rod at her entrance.

Curled against the back of the couch, Fenella watched as he slowly worked his way into her. The sight of his thick shaft sinking into her body was the most arousing thing she’d ever witnessed; she couldn’t take her gaze off it.

However, as he inched his way in, she did glance at his face, and saw he too was staring at where their bodies met.

“Gods, woman,” he groaned.

Fenella whimpered. He was so big, and when he was fully seated, she felt stretched almost to the point of discomfort. But when Aquila gripped her thighs, parting them wider still, and rolled his hips, the tightness eased. Melting pleasure rippled through her loins.

Fenella’s gasp echoed through the room, and her lower belly muscles clenched hard.

And when he repeated the action, she cried out. “Justin!”

“That’s right,” he groaned, drawing back in a slow drag, before sliding deep once more. “I like hearing my name on your lips … say it again.”

“Justin!” She writhed against him now, her thighs trembling, pleasure throbbing deep in her core.

She’d never responded to a man like this, not even Lorcan during their most passionate encounters. Justin Aquila tore the restraints away and turned her wild. She clutched at him, wanting his body against hers.

Sensing her desperation, he dragged her off the couch so that she lay under him on the soft sheepskin rug. There, he plowed her, in slow and deliberate thrusts, while she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper with each plunge.

Aquila’s mouth found hers, their tongues mating as he took her.

And with each thrust, Fenella let go a little bit more. Her fingernails dug into his back, her heels riding the hard muscles of his buttocks. She clung to him, gave all to him, lost herself in him.

Fenella closed her eyes, her head falling back as his mouth fastened on her neck. Tears of ecstasy burned behind her eyelids as she splintered against him, around him. They were both crying out now. The world spun as if she were being sucked into a whirlpool. She clung to Aquila as if her life depended upon it.

His cries were hoarse, unfettered. He thrust deeply once more and then went rigid in her arms.

Fenella opened her eyes to see Aquila throw his head back, the cords of muscle in his neck gleaming, for sweat now bathed his skin. His breathing was ragged, his big body trembling in the aftermath of their passion. His eyes were closed, pleasure still rippling over his face.

Fenella stared up at him, transfixed.

She’d never been with anyone who let go like that, who’d provoked the same wildness in her.

Sinking back into the sheepskin, she closed her eyes. Her throat constricted, her eyelids burning. A moment later, tears escaped, running down her cheeks and tickling her ears.

“Fenella.” Aquila’s voice was husky, raw. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she breathed.

“Have I hurt you?”

“No.”

“But you’re crying.”

She opened her eyes, blinking until he came into focus. Aquila was staring down at her, his amber gaze shadowed with concern.

“I know,” she whispered. “I can’t help it.”