Apparently determined to send her screaming into climax, Logan darted his tongue with concentrated flicks across her clitoris. The orgasm welled inside her, holding her suspended for one blinding moment, before she shattered with devastating impact. She cried out, her body shaking so uncontrollably she thought her knees might buckle.
Eventually the quakes subsided and she slumped on the couch, boneless. She heard Logan whisper something that sounded like beautiful before he rose to his feet. His fingers traced the curve of her spine in a gentle, almost-reverent caress. He came into view as he walked toward the pine coffee table. Her climax hadn’t left her so shell-shocked that she couldn’t appreciate the spectacular visual of Logan’s sculpted chest covered with a fine sheen of sweat. He’d removed his T-shirt, but his jeans remained in place. Although it looked like he’d unzipped them at some time to relieve the pressure on that mouthwatering hard-on.
He flipped open the lid of the decorative metal box resting on the coffee table and reached inside, extracting a condom packet. A mix of contradicting emotions raced through her. Excitement over the prospect of finally having his cock buried inside her and disbelief that she was about to engage in sex with someone who kept an available stash of condoms on their coffee table. For goddess’s sake, where else did he hoard them? The cookie jar in the kitchen?
All of her doubts took an inconvenient siesta the minute Logan rucked his jeans down and his cock sprang free, all rosy and engorged. A single drop of precome glistened from the plum-shaped cap. Her mouth dry, she watched him kick free of his clothing and rip the foil packet with his teeth. It was then that she noticed that the lower portion of his face was glossy with her wetness.
He caught her stare, and she licked her lips. “Can…can I put the condom on you?”
“No, shug. You touch my cock, and I’ll come before even gettin’ to feel your pussy grippin’ me.”
“That would be a shame.”
He offered a lopsided grin. “You’re tellin’ me.” Unfolding the condom, he smoothed it onto his shaft. The responding quiver of his washboard abdominals fascinated her, as did the intriguing way his biceps flexed with his motions, drawing her eyes to the barbed-wire tattoo encircling his upper arm. For as long as she could remember, she’d harbored a secret fantasy about licking that damn tat. Now was no exception.
Truthfully, she also wouldn’t mind licking his beautiful cock like it was a tasty popsicle, either. But judging from his confession regarding his thinly leashed control, that pleasure would have to wait for later. She tried to shove from the cushion and grimaced when her wobbly legs refused to cooperate. “As much as this pains me to admit, you’ll have to carry me to your bedroom. I don’t think there’s any possible way I can walk yet.”
Logan’s smile turned wicked. “That’s because I totally annihilated you with my oral warfare. Your pussy didn’t stand a chance.”
“Annihilated?” She wrinkled her nose. “Just when I think you can’t possibly get any cruder…”
“You weren’t complainin’ while you were comin’ like crazy on my tongue.”
“On second thought, don’t carry me. I don’t need that ego of yours swelling any more out of control than it already is. You might rupture something.” She struggled to get up, but before she could do anything more strenuous than lift onto her elbows, Logan boxed her in from behind.
“Got news for ya, shug. My ego isn’t the only thing swellin’ out of control.” He rubbed his latex-sheathed cock between the cheeks of her ass, and she whimpered. His fingers slid between her legs and skimmed over her clit. Despite having just experienced the most mind-blowing climax of her life, a hot flush of need trembled through her. Logan’s cock slipped lower and teased the entrance to her slit. “The wolf in me wants to fuck you like this.”
“You mean doggie style? Sweet goddess, 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.