Surrender to Temptation Part II: Tempted to Rebel Read Free Page B

monitor. I wasn’t sure I would have liked someone right there in the garage watching us, but the idea that someone—anyone—could be watching a monitor like the one I could see made my pussy become even more slick.
    “Look at you.” I tried to turn back, to look at Zach, but he caught my chin in his fingers and forced me to look at the monitor. He turned his head, watching it, too, and we both saw our television images do the same.
    “Look at that woman up there. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” I didn’t for a moment believe that, but looking at the image—the length of my blonde hair splayed over the sleek black surface of the car’s hood, my legs wrapped around Zach—I felt wanton. I felt desirable.
    I felt sexy.
    “Please.” I gave in. I just wanted him inside of me. Rocking my hips forward again, I groaned when he pulled back, the tip of his rock-hard cock slipping out from between the moist heat of my lower lips.
    “Please what?” Placing one hand on my chest, flat between my breasts, he pushed lightly until I lay back on the car, my legs loosely wrapped around his hips. The metal was hard and unyielding against my skin, and I stared with longing at the thick erection that Zach fisted, rubbing his hand up and down lightly.
    “Please, Zach.” Propping myself up on my elbows, I gave in to what he wanted . . . to whatever he wanted. “I . . . I want . . .”
    Spit it out, Reid
. The words stuck in my throat. I had no experience in talking dirty. But something told me that Zach wouldn’t give even an inch—he wouldn’t reward me until I’d told him what I wanted in plain terms.
    “Please . . . please fuck me.” I ducked my head, embarrassed.
    All hints of discomfiture were shattered when Zach grabbed one of my hips in his hand and thrust inside of me in a long, hard plunge.
    I gasped, crying out. My voice echoed off the plain plaster walls of the garage as he pulled nearly all the way back out and then seated himself inside of me again. There was nothing gentle in his actions, nothing kind. He was a predator who had cornered his prey.
    I had never been so aroused.
    “Move.” I had started to arch my hips to meet him, then had stilled when I remembered his admonishment to do so. “Move however you want to, Devon.”
    His rough stroking had aroused me beyond thought. Throwing caution to the wind, I sat up, wrapped my arms around his chest and my legs around his waist, and met his thrusts with my own.
    “Fuck.” He growled when I scraped my nails down his back, through his jacket and shirt, frustrated that I couldn’t find flesh. “Fuck!” His movements came faster and even harder, pounding into me with fury. I fisted my hands in his suit jacket, feeling the pressure within me finally, gloriously rising, bringing me close to the edge.
    It wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted him to brand me with his body, to let me know that I was woman enough to make Zachariah St. Brenton lose control.
    “Harder.” I barely recognized my own voice, gone guttural with need. “Don’t hold back.”
    Something wild flashed in Zach’s eyes, and then, molding his hands to my ass, he lifted me right off of the car as he thrust in, so deeply that it hurt, but the hurt was so good. My ass slammed back down on the car as he pulled back, and then he lifted me up again.
    “More!” Arching my body, throwing my head back, I let him pound into me again and again. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, desperate for release.
    “Fuck!” My world shattered into a million brilliant pieces when he forced one hand between our straining bodies and rubbed his thumb over my clit. I shuddered against him, clinging to him with arms and legs, and felt him seat himself deeply inside of me and let go himself. He shouted as he came, his heat warming me from inside.
    It was several long minutes before either of us so much as moved. When Zach finally stood, my front felt cold, protesting the removal of the