“It’s the only cure,” I tell her, tugging back sharply.

She cries out in a breathy burst of pain and then moans. “Your cock is the cure for everything.”

With one hand pulling on her hair, I lean forward until my damp chest is pressed against her back, my dick so deep inside that we both suck in our breath. I slide one hand over her throat. I tighten my hold, choking her lightly, and put my lips to her ear. “How do I feel?” I whisper, licking up the rim.

Shivers erupt beneath me and I feel her throat moving against the palm of my hand. “Heaven sent,” she manages to say. “You feel heaven sent.” She swallows and I let up the pressure. “Now fuck me. Fuck me and make me come.”

I moan, never tiring of how direct she is, addicted to her own feverish hunger. I circle my hips, my fingers tightening around her neck and hair while my chest slides up and down against her skin. In turn she thrusts her arse back at me, and  all thought and reason and sense of self are obscured by her satiny feel, the tight clench around my cock that threatens to take me to another world.

I am but an animal. I piston myself into her, over and over again, the headboard slamming against the wall. I can almost see us from above, me fucking her raw, deep from behind, my muscles flexing as I push in, fast, hard, our skin blistering from such wild need. She’s coming, and her pulse is racing into my palm, wild and delicate. The frenzied, high-pitched cries like she’s being obliterated in the most perverse way completely do me in.

I’m clutching her throat, her hair, and I’m coming. It’s like a sunrise deep inside. It shines right through you and leaves you hot, dizzy, and spent.

Jesus. I don’t even know where I am.

I collapse against her, gasping for breath, burying my face in hair that I already feel holds all my whispered words.

Fuck. She holds every fucking part of me in that little body and big red heart of hers.

I can’t swallow properly and my breath is slow to return. There’s always a moment of clarity after you come, and this one holds an earth-shattering truth.

This woman will own me in the end.

And I’m not sure if I’ll own enough of her to make her stay.

“Fuck,” she says breathlessly after a minute or two of our bodies being fused together, the sweat cooling between us.

“What?” I manage to ask, ever hopeful that she’s going to give me some indication of how she feels about me.

Tell me that you don’t ever want to leave.

Tell me that you’ll stay long enough to let me learn everything there is to know about you.

Tell me that you’re mine.

I’m nearly sick with how needy I sound to myself and I have to dig deep and push it away. Why can’t I just be satisfied that she’s here at all? If it weren’t for the balls I had to ask her to come in the first place, we would already be apart and moving on with our lives separately. That was what was supposed to happen.

But it didn’t. And if she’s greedy, I’m greedier. I’ll never get enough of her.

“You sure know how to welcome me into your home,” she says, turning her head to look at me, her eyes lazy with satisfaction.

“You know it’s the least I can do,” I tell her. I kiss the back of her neck, tasting her skin. Though I had fallen asleep on the plane, it wasn’t the best sleep. I’m so tempted to keep lying here with her, though I know that both of us will be asleep in no time, which will then fuck up the day I have planned for tomorrow.

Somehow I get both of us out of bed and into the shower. I’ve still got just a towel wrapped around my waist when the buzzer goes off. It’s Amara.

“Come on up,” I tell her. Kayla is staring at me nervously in just stretch pants and a tank top. She’s not wearing makeup, and her hair is wet and down around her shoulders.

“She’s already here?” she squeaks. “I’m not even properly dressed.”

I give her a soothing look. “Neither am I. She’s bringing Lionel and she’s an old friend. Believe me, you look fine.”

“Yeah but you look fucking hot in a towel.”

“Listen,” I tell her, not exactly proud of this. “I’ve had my shirt off around her before.” Her eyes widen and I quickly add, “Not in that way. But it comes with rugby, all right?”

She nods just as the knock comes at the door.

I open it and barely notice Amara standing on the other side of the door. All I can see is Lionel, jumping up on me, absolutely losing his mind with delight.

“Hey, mate!” I cry out, grabbing him and bringing him up to my level. He’s wriggling so fast that he’s nearly impossible to grip, like holding onto a wet seal.

I’ve never been away from Lionel this long and some sorry part of me was afraid he wouldn’t remember me when I came back, but at least I know it’s not true. He’s already dropped a gallon of drool on me in terms of licks and kisses.

Kayla clears her throat from beside me and I’m brought back to reality.

“Kayla, this is Lionel,” I tell her, trying to push his face away from mine.

“Yeah, I get that. How about introducing me to the human?” she says smartly.

Right. That.

I give them both a chagrined smile and set Lionel on the floor. He’s about to jump up again when he spots Emily poking her head around the corner and immediately sets out after her.

“Sorry, sorry, my manners,” I say, knowing Amara totally understands. She’s used to it. “Kayla, this is my mate Amara. She works for me at the shelter. I’d be nowhere without her. Amara, this is Kayla. She’s…” And suddenly I draw a blank because I don’t know what she is. We haven’t really discussed anything within the terms of us yet.

“I’m staying with Lachlan,” Kayla finishes smoothly, shaking Amara’s hand. I eye Kayla carefully, wondering if she’s going to give Amara the side-eye. I won’t be surprised, nor will I be all that upset if she has a jealous streak, but even though Amara is striking with her Roman nose, fiery red hair, and freckles, Kayla is nothing but warm and genuine.

“Nice to meet you,” Amara says, looking briefly at me. Her face is composed, but I can stell she’s confused and shocked. I hadn’t exactly mentioned Kayla and in no way told Amara that a girl would be coming back with me. Luckily she takes it all in stride.

“So how was he, any trouble?” I ask, steering the conversation over.

“He really hates the muzzle,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “At least when I put it on him.”

Kayla jumps back a bit, looking around for Lionel who is trotting back and forth across the drawing room, sniffing Emily. “He needs a muzzle?” she asks.

I shake my head, feeling a burst of anger flare up. “No. He doesn’t need one. He’s never bitten anyone, nor would he without a muzzle. But the U.K. sees pit bulls as an inferior breed. A bad one. A banned one. It’s tricky to own one—you have to prove first that yours isn’t dangerous, and even then, they all have to wear a muzzle. Even if they are old and have never hurt a soul. Sometimes I walk Lionel around here without one, but the neighbors know me. In other places though, you can’t be too sure who will see you.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Kayla says, reaching for the hand that I’ve balled into a fist. She uncurls it and lets her fingers slip inside. My heartbeat slows.

“It is fucking stupid,” Amara says, nodding and angrily shoving a piece of hair behind her ear. “The law was introduced in the seventies when dog fighting was a problem. It needs to be bloody updated, but the government is a bunch of ignorant cunts. We’re working on it though, trying to educate that it’s the people who do that kind of shite that should be banned, not the breed.”

I exhale harshly through my nose. “Let’s not discuss this too much today. I need to stay in good spirits,” I tell them honestly.

Kayla gives my hand a squeeze and nods. She looks to Amara. “What are you doing now? Did you want to go out for a late lunch or dinner with us?”