Tanner Stone was way too sure of himself. Too many women had been letting him have it all his own way.

Not even an advancing All Blacks haka could have dragged him away from the swing of her ass

How dare he look so freaking smug like he’d just ticked an item off a sex list? Going down on Matilda. Check.

A saint? Tanner Stone was the anti-Christ.

I tackle guys three times your size for a living. I can handle whatever you throw at me.

Better than an orgasm? Clearly the woman was having lousy orgasms.

If you think I haven’t been fantasising about your mouth around my cock, then you’re crazy

This was screwing. One hundred percent pissed-off, nail-raking, neck-biting, wall-fucking screwing.

You’ve shaped me into this woman I never wanted to be. There are bits of myself I don’t even like.