“Doogan. Please . . .” she begged, crying out desperately as the slow, stretching burn began to consume her, to build in her flesh.

Like a drug. This pleasure was like a drug. She couldn’t possibly survive . . .

“Should I stop, baby?” he crooned behind her. “Damn me, you’re so pretty. You’re opening for me love, flared around the tip of my cock, parting so sweet. And it’s like flames beginning to wrap around my dick, you’re so fucking tight.”

Steady, stretching, burning, pleasure and pain and the heavy vibration destroying her senses, leaving her to exist for nothing but the increasing detonations of sensations so deep and intense her entire body entered a state of hypersensitivity.

“Ah, Doogan.” She cried out his name again as the full width of his cock head slid inside, her muscles clenching with a spasming response and a surge of static sensation raced up her spine.

Her buttocks clenched furiously, involuntarily, the tissue locked beneath the blunt force rippling, working furiously to adapt to the invasion.

“That’s it, baby.” Guttural, rasping with pleasure, the hint of Irish, a shadow of emotion, he encouraged her acceptance as the tighter, more sensitive ring of tissue began flaring around the crest.

She couldn’t take more.

Grinding her forehead into the mattress, she sobbed out at the increasing demands whipping through her, the heightened sensation, her flesh stretching, pleasure-pain building, taking her . . .

Inside her pussy the vibrator’s deep, internal strokes and teasing caresses only aided the steadily rising, remorseless burn and demanding intensity overtaking her.

It wasn’t pleasure. It wasn’t pain. It was such a mix of both, so heightened, built to such a level it should have been terrifying. Should have been. If not for Doogan’s soft croon, one hand steadying her hip, the other stroking, caressing.

“Now, love,” he warned her gently. “We’re almost there, sweet. Just here . . .”

Zoey screamed.

That place she existed within burned white-hot, with sensations fracturing inside her, pulsing with such a violent overriding response that she knew that when it was over, she would never be the same.

He hadn’t been certain she would take him, Doogan realized as he forced his eyes to focus on the point where his body became a part of hers. The responsive tissue hugging the base of his cock rippled and pulled at his shaft. Inside, the bite of the inner ring of muscles locked down on his erection and rippling around it was nearly too much pleasure to bear.

It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a woman’s ass, but it was the first time he’d heard that scream of surrender and felt a woman give herself to him like that.

He could feel it. She was open to him, taking every moment of pleasure, every shocking second of carnal hunger into her woman’s soul and locking around it while she gave a part of herself to him.

“Zoey, baby . . .” He wanted to sob for both of them. Because he felt her inside his soul, a presence so subtle he hadn’t even realized what had been spurring the hunger for her until now.

He shook his head.

No. Emotion wasn’t allowed. He could regret, hunger, he could even care. Love wasn’t reality. It was a fantasy. A fucking chimera . . .

And it was digging into his soul like talons.

A hard shake of his head didn’t clear it, no more than it cleared the beads of sweat stinging his fucking eyes.

Gripping her hips with both hands, Doogan concentrated on the pleasure, rather than the coming agony. Nothing mattered but this. The sweet lancing heat he could feel surrounding him, spilling from her, easing him.

Pulling back, watching the slick width of his cock stretching her flesh, he was still amazed she was taking him, stretching for him and begging for more. She was so tiny, so delicate . . .

He pushed inside her again, watching her take him. The need to cum was agony. Holding back wasn’t going to last . . .

Fuck.

Fire and lightning surrounded his erection, whipped through the sensitive flesh and arrowed so deep inside his chest he wondered if it had struck his soul.

She was so damned tight.

His fingers clenched at her hips, feeling her tighten further, her flesh rippling around him, the vibration of the erotic toy lodged in her pussy echoed to his cock, making each sensation stronger, deeper.

Ah God.

Sweat dripped into his eyes as he focused on that point where she stretched around him, watching her hug his cock, feeling her flex and tighten around him as he moved. He couldn’t stop moving. He had to fuck her, had to feel her like this, take her, bind her . . .

Whatever he’d meant to do when he began this, what he ended up doing was ripping away the lies she told herself and revealing a truth she feared would destroy her before it was over.

The sensations rocking her body, what he was doing to her, was more than just the physical act. The implications of it she might have enough brain matter left to ponder later, but she wondered for the briefest second, if she even wanted to consider them.

Restrained, at his mercy, nothing to hold on to but the instinctive awareness of trust or fear, Zoey learned she had the ultimate trust in Doogan.

The preparation, the penetration, and now the hard, heavy lunges of his hips, his flesh burying inside hers, rocking her to the core with so much burning pleasure she didn’t know if she would survive the coming cataclysm. But she didn’t try to avoid it either.

The explosion began in her clit, where Doogan tucked his palm between her thighs, allowing her to ride the sensations, to stroke the highly sensitive bud against his roughened flesh. That first detonation was all-consuming by itself. It ripped through her, jerking her body against his and setting off the explosion deep inside her pussy.

Her muscles clenched tight, dragging a groan from Doogan as he thrust into her rear channel, stroking the suddenly tense tissue despite the rapid-fire shudders and primal tightening of her body. When the powerful, soul-deep eruption reached its peak she screamed—or she tried to scream. Racking, heaving spasms attacked her as sensations so deep, so cataclysmic that they ripped through the very heart of her began setting off mini explosions of white-hot rapture.

She was flying through a storm of pure sensory awareness. Her body felt everything. The hard, jetting pulses of Doogan’s release shooting into her rear, the rasp of his flesh with each jerk of her body that raked her too-sensitive clit against his palm. The brush of the air. The feel of his heart racing against her back, the feel of his cheek against hers, his weight held from her by the strength of his arm next to her.

He didn’t mark her neck this time, but he didn’t have to. There was no reason to leave a mark for others to see ever again. He’d left his mark inside her, in her soul, and that would keep any other man from her bed far more effectively than a mark to her skin.

Then she couldn’t sense anything but the tidal wave of sensations as they converged and stole her ability to do anything but feel. The pleasure, the emotions suddenly running rampant through her heart, and the man behind her. And what she sensed there, she couldn’t hide from either. A man who refused to acknowledge that he could feel, that he could love.

The man who would break her was far too broken to ever be put together again.

Doogan lay with Zoey spread across his chest like a living blanket, boneless, recuperating after he’d released her, wiped the moisture from her body with a damp cloth, then dried her skin.

She might not be moving, but she was thinking, and she was thinking hard.

He’d known during that time he waited for her to return from her sister’s what he was going to do. Why he was doing it, he had refused to delve into at the time.