you truly are a walking cliché.” The tremor in her voice destroyed any shot she had of him taking her sarcasm seriously.
“Yet somethin’ tells me you won’t complain this time either.” The thick head of Logan’s cock eased inside, stretching her. He groaned. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. I’m not hurting you, am I?”
Speech was impossible. Gnawing on her lip, she settled for giving a frantic shake of her head instead.
“Good, cause I’ve gotta move.”
“Sweet goddess, yes . Give me more.”
“Mm, I like the sound of you beggin’ for my cock.” Logan’s adroit fingers slicking over her clit, he thrust deeper.
The fullness of him filling her superseded all else—even taking him to task for his arrogance. Besides, it’d be damn impossible to challenge his claim when she was bucking against him, mewling worse than a cat in heat. The head of his cock prodded her G-spot, and she jerked, nearly biting her tongue as a fierce wave of pleasure crested toward a dazzling peak. Logan retreated slightly before nailing that sweet spot again. And again. On his fourth pass she thought she would die from the ferocious flood of sensation building inside her.
It was too intense.
Too earth-shattering.
Too everything.
She tried to escape it, but Logan held her firm, neither his cock nor his fingers relenting in their quest to drive her over the edge. “Come for me, Rissa. Now.”
The excruciating pleasure erupted, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. Dimly, she heard Logan’s strangled shout as he came with her. She could feel her magic break through its barrier, and it physically manifested a second later in a radiant shower of lavender shimmers that sparked from her skin.
Her last coherent thought before passing out was now she knew how a freakin’ overworked firecracker felt.
Chapter Six
The screech of a nearby gull snapped Logan awake. He blinked at the ceiling, the lingering remnants of his incredible dream slowly disintegrating like a spider’s web caught in a downpour. But even as the dream dissolved, his senses returned in a rush as Clarissa’s sweet, intoxicating scent reached out to him. He rolled onto his side, his hungry gaze devouring her.
Who needed a dream when the woman he wanted above all others was lying beside him all warm and naked?
Clarissa sighed in her sleep, her palm curling next to her cheek on the pillow. She looked so peaceful. And vulnerable. The hidden layers she was reluctant to expose called to him on a deep, primal level. He hadn’t been entirely surprised when she’d responded so well to his dominance. It didn’t take a PhD in psychology to figure out that a woman with as many responsibilities as Clarissa shouldered might secretly long to hand over the reins in the bedroom. No, what had thrown him for a curveball was his response.
He’d played the dominating alpha with his fair share of women. Plenty of females got off on it, and he’d been more than happy to accommodate their fantasy of being fucked by the big bad wolf. But with Clarissa, he hadn’t been role-playing.
It hadn’t been so much about bending her to his will—or over the arm of the couch, as it were. Though he’d certainly enjoyed that part. But at the core of it was something more elemental. He craved her trust, her willingness to let him take care of her. For now, she might only consent to both when it came to sex, but that would change. He’d bide his time and be patient. Seven years of waiting proved he possessed a mammoth storehouse of that particular virtue.
His attention drifted from Clarissa’s face, down to the perfection of her creamy breasts. Her nipples were pebbled. Much as he liked to think it was because she was having her own sexy dream about him, he reluctantly acknowledged that the sea-soaked breeze ruffling the curtains was probably the culprit. Still, that didn’t keep his wolf from salivating in anticipation. A few things in their relationship he didn’t mind
“Yet somethin’ tells me you won’t complain this time either.” The thick head of Logan’s cock eased inside, stretching her. He groaned. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. I’m not hurting you, am I?”
Speech was impossible. Gnawing on her lip, she settled for giving a frantic shake of her head instead.
“Good, cause I’ve gotta move.”
“Sweet goddess, yes . Give me more.”
“Mm, I like the sound of you beggin’ for my cock.” Logan’s adroit fingers slicking over her clit, he thrust deeper.
The fullness of him filling her superseded all else—even taking him to task for his arrogance. Besides, it’d be damn impossible to challenge his claim when she was bucking against him, mewling worse than a cat in heat. The head of his cock prodded her G-spot, and she jerked, nearly biting her tongue as a fierce wave of pleasure crested toward a dazzling peak. Logan retreated slightly before nailing that sweet spot again. And again. On his fourth pass she thought she would die from the ferocious flood of sensation building inside her.
It was too intense.
Too earth-shattering.
Too everything.
She tried to escape it, but Logan held her firm, neither his cock nor his fingers relenting in their quest to drive her over the edge. “Come for me, Rissa. Now.”
The excruciating pleasure erupted, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. Dimly, she heard Logan’s strangled shout as he came with her. She could feel her magic break through its barrier, and it physically manifested a second later in a radiant shower of lavender shimmers that sparked from her skin.
Her last coherent thought before passing out was now she knew how a freakin’ overworked firecracker felt.
Chapter Six
The screech of a nearby gull snapped Logan awake. He blinked at the ceiling, the lingering remnants of his incredible dream slowly disintegrating like a spider’s web caught in a downpour. But even as the dream dissolved, his senses returned in a rush as Clarissa’s sweet, intoxicating scent reached out to him. He rolled onto his side, his hungry gaze devouring her.
Who needed a dream when the woman he wanted above all others was lying beside him all warm and naked?
Clarissa sighed in her sleep, her palm curling next to her cheek on the pillow. She looked so peaceful. And vulnerable. The hidden layers she was reluctant to expose called to him on a deep, primal level. He hadn’t been entirely surprised when she’d responded so well to his dominance. It didn’t take a PhD in psychology to figure out that a woman with as many responsibilities as Clarissa shouldered might secretly long to hand over the reins in the bedroom. No, what had thrown him for a curveball was his response.
He’d played the dominating alpha with his fair share of women. Plenty of females got off on it, and he’d been more than happy to accommodate their fantasy of being fucked by the big bad wolf. But with Clarissa, he hadn’t been role-playing.
It hadn’t been so much about bending her to his will—or over the arm of the couch, as it were. Though he’d certainly enjoyed that part. But at the core of it was something more elemental. He craved her trust, her willingness to let him take care of her. For now, she might only consent to both when it came to sex, but that would change. He’d bide his time and be patient. Seven years of waiting proved he possessed a mammoth storehouse of that particular virtue.
His attention drifted from Clarissa’s face, down to the perfection of her creamy breasts. Her nipples were pebbled. Much as he liked to think it was because she was having her own sexy dream about him, he reluctantly acknowledged that the sea-soaked breeze ruffling the curtains was probably the culprit. Still, that didn’t keep his wolf from salivating in anticipation. A few things in their relationship he didn’t mind
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