GALLAHAN’S POV
“Willa,” I moaned into the silence of my room while my hand pumped my painfully hard c**k. “f**k… Willa, Willa…”
Images of her, which were barely vivid for my liking, consumed my rut-addled mind.
My imagined Willa willingly succumbed to me. She was spread out for me to take, moaning in pleasure and whining to be claimed, mounted and bred. Most of all, she looked at me like I was the man she actually wanted. Like I wasn’t some sort of heartless and evil pig.
Hot desire and the primal need to have my mate swept all over me, and I pathetically bucked my hips, f*****g myself into my hand.
The tightness and wetness of my grip was barely enough, and the Willa in my mind’s eye intensified my craving to kiss her, hold her, and f**k her.
I WANTED HER.
I NEEDED HER.
The desire
