Chapter 113
-Hailey-
E:55.00
The kiss was a demolition. A brutal realignment of our broken pieces through plain force of will. His mouth was desp and hungry, and I met it with both surrender and defiance.
For god knows how long, the only things that existed were the hard lines of his chest against mine and the taste of his
The energy between us started to shift from emotional to physical. To feral.
The careful peacemaking was over, and now it was all need.
My hips moved against his with barely any thought from me. A slow, grinding rhythm that drew a low groan from dee his chest.
The sound was a live wire skittering across the wetness between my thighs.
And it was that sound that finally made me break the kiss.
I pulled back just enough to gasp a breath, resting my forehead against his. The real world, the one he’d recently shatter downstairs, came rushing back in.
“Logan,” I breathed. “We’re… we’re supposed to be going downstairs, aren’t we? The lockdown….”
He grunted. His hand came up to the back of my neck, and his fingers tangled in my hair to pull my face back down to h
He didn’t kiss me, just held me there, with our mouths millimeters apart. “In a minute.”
Then he bit my bottom lip. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me gasp. It melted my protest into a long, low
moan.
His tongue swept into my mouth, and any thought of… anything, evaporated into the heat between us.
His hands found Talon’s gun tucked into the back of my jeans, and he pulled it out and set it on the couch beside us withe even breaking the kiss.
Then his hands were everywhere, mapping my back, my waist, pulling me tighter against him until I could feel every hart inch of him through our clothes.
The friction was exquisite. I was losing myself in it, fisting my fingers in his hair, when his voice cut through the haze, roug and guttural.
“Take your clothes off.”
I blinked, trying to focus on his face. His eyes were dark.
“I thought we were going downstairs,” I said. It sounded weak even to my own cars, and it was driven only by a sense of duny I didn’t want to be anywhere but right here.
“Yeah… In a minute. He just watched me with those intense eyes.
I sighed. “Okay, but.. I need a shower first. It’s been a long fucking day, Logan I’m gross
He shook his head and it was pure impatience. “Get your ass to the bedroom and take your clothes off. Ace. His voice dropped, low and dangerous. Every word was a hammer strike. “Don’t make me carry you. I’m fuckin‘ pissed and I’m
Chapter 113
crippled.”
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The words landed like a warning shot, and the last of my resistance crumbled. The fight in me was replaced by a weary aching need to just stop thinking, stop planning, stop lying. To just be his.
I climbed carefully off of his lap.
The shirt went first, falling to the floor in the hall. Then my socks.
Each piece of clothing felt like shedding a layer of the day’s armor. My skin prickled with goosebumps.
My target wasn’t the bed…. it was the ensuite bathroom. Steam and solitude and a chance to wash the filth of Oakmoss L off of my skin.
I left my jeans and underwear in a puddle on the bedroom floor, beelining for the shower. I fumbled with the knobs an stuck my hand under the spray, flinching at the initial shock of cold before it settled into a perfect, scalding temperatur
His arms wrapped around me from behind. I jumped, and a small yelp escaped me.
He’d moved like a predator, peeling off his own clothes while I was focused on the water. Now his skin was hot against m and the hard length of his cock was pressed into the small of my back.
Before I could even try to escape into the shower, he lifted me clean off my feet.
“Logan, your leg!” I gasped, but he just carried me the few steps back into the bedroom like I weighed nothing. He didn’t a word.
He set me down at the foot of the bed and bent me over, guiding me forward until my cheek was pressed into the comforter. My ass was in the air, presented to him, utterly vulnerable. It was insanely hot. Also insanely embarrassing. I could feel the day’s sweat on my skin.
His hands ran all over me, possessive and rough. Over the curve of my ass, down the backs of my thighs, along my inner knees.
Then his fingers found my core, stroking through the wetness that was already blatant there despite my self–consciousnes
“Mmm. F**k, Ace,” he muttered in a low rasp.
Then his hands spread my cheeks apart, and the cool air of the room hit parts of me that never saw the light of day. I tense a mortified sound catching in my throat. “Logan, wait, I’m–Do not put your face–I’m so gross right now!”
I tried to push myself up, to twist away from the intimacy of it, from the exposure.
A low groan vibrated through him, and one of his hands flew to the back of my neck, pressing my face firmly back into the mattress. “Quit squirming,” he muttered. “You taste so goddamn good.”
And then his mouth was on me.
His tongue was hot and relentless, lapping up my juices, dipping inside me, stealing the breath from my hings
The sensation touched every nerve ending in my body, lighting me up like a fucking Christmas tree
And then I felt something else–the blunt pressure of his nose, pressed firmly between my checks right up against iny
other hole.
The self–consciousness exploded into full–blown panic. I bucked, trying to dislodge him, but his grip on my hips was immovable.
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He didn’t seem to notice my distress, or he ignored it. A ragged groan tore from him, muffled against my ass. “So good,” he growled, and his tongue worked me harder. Faster.
The protest died in my throat, suffocated by the sheer pleasure of it. The anxiety melted away in the heat of his m fingers curled into the comforter, gripping hard as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.
His hands left my hips and found my breasts, kneading them as his tongue flicked my clit and his nose rubbed aga asshole. His fingers found my nipple piercings, and he pinched them gently and twisted.
The bright, sharp mix of pleasure and pain was the final key. The coil snapped.
My orgasm ripped through me, violent and silent at first as shudders wracked my body. A broken, gasping moan fo and my hips were grinding back against his face of their own accord as he drove me through it.
His tongue drew every last pulse of pleasure out of me until I was limp and trembling against the mattress.
I was oversensitive and still writhing when he pulled away. The loss of his mouth was a cold shock. I heard him shuf knees, then the groan of effort as he pushed himself to his feet.
My own breath was coming in ragged pants. My face was still mashed into the blanket. My entire world was reduced smell of laundry detergent and sex.
I felt him behind me. I had collapsed onto the bed, but he grabbed my hips and pulled my ass back up into the air.
He didn’t tease. Didn’t waste any time. He just pushed into me in one long, slow, devastating stroke that pressed the ai of my lungs and stretched me full of him.
A moan tore from my throat, then turned into his name, elongating into ten syllables that sounded like a prayer and a all in one. “Loohoogaaahann…”
He held himself there, buried to the hilt, and the feeling of being so completely filled, so possessed, was almost too mu
Then he pulled all the way out, slow and torturous, before slamming back into me with a force that drove me forward i the mattress.
His hands on my hips were vices, holding me in place, keeping me from flying away from the impact.
“Head down,” he grunted. His voice was strained with the effort of controlling his own pace.
The delicious, slow rhythm didn’t last. His control frayed, and his thrusts went harder, faster. Frantic, punishing
The bedframe started a rhythmic beat against the wall. I needed more.
I slipped a hand under myself, and my fingers found my clit. It was swollen and hyper–sensitive from his mouth. I circled languidly and my moans matched the pace.
They were punctuated by each thrust of his hips.
A deep, approving growl rumbled from him. “Mmm, good girl.”
The praise, growled in that rough voice, sent another jolt through me. His hips pistoned faster, driving into me with a force that felt like it might crack me in half.
Then I felt his thumb, warm and wet, pressing. Against. My. Asshole
It was a question. He was asking permission.
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When I didn’t immediately try to buck away, mostly because I was still processing it, the tip of his finger pusher de small, shocking intrusion on top of the relentless rhythm of his cock.
It felt… strange.
Then it felt right. More than right.
The fullness was incredible. The pressure amplified every sensation. My reluctant gasp turned into a guttural moon ! pushed my ass back against him, meeting his thrusts, asking for more.
He responded with a groan of his own that was almost a roar, pushing his thumb in deeper, a perfect. Sty conterre
his strokes.
“Oh, fu–uck,” I choked out, muffled against the blanket.
The dual sensation tipped me over an edge I’d never visited before. My second O crashed over me in ripped a scream from my throat and sent my body clamping down around him in violent, rhythmic pulses.
With a few more jagged, uncontrolled thrusts, he pulled out of me completely. The sudden emptiness was a shock. The
came across my ass.
I felt a hot, wet stripe paint my lower back, followed by another, and another, as he came with a ragged, broken grant
I felt like a Jackson Pollock painting.
He collapsed onto the bed beside me to catch his breath. For a minute, there was only the sound of our bangs and the distant, steady hiss of the shower from the bathroom.
I rolled onto my side. “Why’d you pull out?” I asked.
He turned his head to look at me, completely sated. “Just markin‘ my territory, Ace.” A faint, dark smirk mached s “Plus, you don’t really deserve a balls–deep breeding after the shit you pulled on me today”
I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue at him. “Whatever. Joke’s on you, Hades jizz is my favorite outfit.” I pushed o the bed and headed for the bathroom. “The water’s probably ice cold now. It’s been running this whole time.
He let out a low chuckle. The sound of pure, exhausted satisfaction. “Your punishment for tryin to get you Again.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
