Chapter 50

I’m not Gabriela; I am pure pleasure rising like a wave. Rising with such strength and perfection that I’m surprised my body can take it, and I expect to explode at any moment and be reduced to ashes by the heat and intensity flowing through me.

Thinking of that explosion brings me back. I’m aware of my body. My limbs. My breasts. The desperate, burning itch between my legs.

I am pure movement.

I am debauchery.

I lose myself, carried by the wind of the glorious sensations exploding inside me—the pressure that fills me, the rhythmic movement of my body, the warmth over me, and the musky scent of Marcus that fills my senses and makes me shudder.

“Marcus.”

It’s his name on my lips that wakes me. Not the fact that he’s inside me—because that is perfect, glorious, real.

Instinctively, I spread my knees to give him deeper access before my brain even registers this delicious reality.

“Harder,” I murmur, and as the haze of sleep lifts, I arch