With gritted teeth and hot breaths, Andrew repositioned Aspen and continued his relentless assault.

Aspen's face flushed with panic, her lips parting to beg for mercy. Yet, before a word escaped, her snow-white neck arched sharply as she gasped.

A storm raged over her—inescapable, overwhelming.

The night became a cycle of sweet torment. Once, twice—she lost count of how many times she teetered on the edge of consciousness, certain Andrew would be the death of her.

Of course, this kind of