13
| NICOLE |
I can’t believe I just did that.
I don’t even have time to process what the fallout will be for riling the beast like that because I’m too busy trying to figure out where exactly I’m going to find a priest to exorcise this insanely bold (and impressively badass) demoness that has somehow possessed my body.
Maybe Google will know.
Suddenly, Logan’s hand flashes out and wraps around my wrist before I can so much as yelp.
An instant later, I’m back in the storage room, being held captive against the wall of his tall, muscular frame, and holy crap, there’s a storm brewing in those turbulent topaz eyes of his.
I pushed him too far…but in a good way. I see it in his expression, feel it in his touch.
“You want to know why I want to maintain control, sweetheart? I’ll show you.”
A deep, rumbling sound rolls through his chest like thunder for a long, heated second before his lips finally come crashing down against mine.
This kiss is nothing like our first. It’s…untamed. Unyielding.
It’s like he’s laying some sort of claim on me and flat-out refusing to take no for an answer.
When I have to pull back a bit to drag some oxygen into my lungs and slow my racing heart, he dips his head down to skim his lips along my throat.
With his mouth over my thrumming pulse, he murmurs in a tone so low I feel it against my skin, “I fucking love the taste of you.”
I don’t even realize he’s holding my hands in his until I feel him lift them up high to the shelf above me.
“Hold on,” he says as he slowly grazes his thumbs back and forth over my hardened nipples now straining through my taut t-shirt.
As he watches me fight back a moan, his gaze grows hotter, darker. As intense as I’ve ever seen it. The expression on his face is more than just hungry, it’s primal, almost predatory.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve wanted to touch you like this over the years?” he rasps. “It’d be all I could do not to grab your ropes and drag you close so I could get my mouth on these hard little nipples.” He exhales harshly. “It’s why I keep the AC so damn cold in your favorite climbing zones.”
My thoughts immediately scatter. Partly because of the gritty, unbelievably sweet confession. But mostly as a result of the sharp shock of sensation I feel when his teeth close tightly over my nipple. Hard enough to make me feel the sting through my t-shirt and bra.
With carefully measured tugs, he gently increases the pressure, slowly wringing the most intensely exquisite pleasure-pain out of me and gradually pushing to my limits.
Soon, he’s stealing control of every one of my senses, until the heat of his mouth is the single point of focus for my entire body.
When my limbs eventually start to quake uncontrollably from the pleasure, instantly, my nipple is released from its erotic vise, causing a wave of dizziness to overtake me.
He catches me before I even register I’m falling. “I told you to hold on,” he tsks and moves his mouth to my other nipple.
Oh god, if he puts me through that again, I’ll come. “Logan—”
His body jerks like he’s been whipped. “Say my name like that again and I’ll be fucking you right here, right now with anyone and everyone listening.”
The breathless sound that escapes me makes my thoughts on that plan abundantly clear.
He spins me around.
“You drive me crazy, woman.”
Says the insanely hot pot to the innocent kettle.
It’s possible I whispered that thought out loud.
His arms snap shut like steel bands surrounding me. I can’t move, wouldn’t want to even if I could. Every tense flex of his torso is sending a tingling rush down my spine, and the entire length of his stiff shaft is now rock hard against me.
“See how hard you made me with your little stunt earlier?” he growls softly, gently scoring his teeth over the back of my neck. “Best fucking head of my life. Until you stopped.”
He slides one calloused hand up my ribcage to cup my breast while his other hand is down between my legs, pressing firmly over the seam of my jeans. Both are like hot, unmoving brands, their only apparent purpose to keep me tightly pinned to him.
And to torment me.
His lips move up to my ear. “Do you want me to touch you?”
I swear, nothing aside from climbing up a cliff has ever felt like this for me. The rush. The strain. The feeling of danger that makes the finish all the more worth it.
He’s a climber, I know he feels it too. It’s crackling in the air all around us. It’s intense. Exhilarating.
Another grazing skim of his calloused thumb then, and a touch more pressure between my legs.
I can’t even form any words to respond to his question. He’s effectively scrambled my brain, overloaded my senses. All I can do is arch my back and rub my backside against the steel rod of his cock through his jeans.
“That’s not an answer,” he says gruffly.
Dammit. He’s going to make me beg.
“Do you,” he nips at my jawline, “want me to touch you?” He punctuates his question by slowly grinding his palm over my mound.
“Yes.” The word echoes in my brain like a deafening shout, even though it comes out barely louder than a whisper.
“I didn’t hear you,” he murmurs, turning me back around to face him so he can gaze down at every last expression on my face. “Say it again,” he says, his hands now simply stroking my hair, no longer even in contact with my body.
“Please,” I exhale instead, my cheeks blazing hot, while the rest of me feels cold without his touch.
Is this how I made him feel? Powerless. Aching. Almost desperate.
If it is, hell, it won’t be the last time I do it to him, that’s for damn sure.
It’s like he can read my thoughts. He smiles. “Feisty.” His mouth is back on my neck, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin there with just the right roughness.
“Please what?” he asks again, his breath hot against my throat as he pulls me closer by the waistband of my jeans, the backs of his fingers teasing the top of my panties.
When I still refuse to answer, he chuckles and starts palming his erection with his free hand, nudging my now soaking wet slit with his knuckles. Even through two layers of fabric, I know he can feel it. The flare of his eyes tells me he knows exactly how wet he’s made me.
Okay, he wins.
“Please, Logan. Please touch me.”
A flash of triumph lights his expression before he grins and asks lazily, “Where do you want me to touch you?”
Damn him. I know I deserve this payback but does he have to be so freaking good at it?
His tongue flicks over my collarbone. “Here?” he whispers.
I shake my head no. “My…” I can’t say it.
“Your…?”
I realize then that my jeans are open. The air conditioning feels icy cold against my damp panties—an insane contrast to the heat coursing through me every time his skin simply touches mine.
“My pussy,” I murmur finally, and his lips meet mine again as if to reward me for my confession.
He doesn’t slide my jeans down like I expect though. Instead, he simply circles my clit with two fingers over my panties, with just enough pressure to keep me mindless with pleasure.
My legs feel like they’re going to dump me on the floor. Thankfully, he backs me up without breaking contact until I feel the wall behind me to help keep me upright.
It’s a wholly necessary precaution on his part, I discover, as he proceeds to dip his head down to close his teeth over my nipple. The other one this time.
Meanwhile, his fingers begin a new pressure, a new pattern, seemingly custom-designed to drive me straight to the brink.
“I can’t wait to suck on this hard little clit,” he growls against my nipple.
My entire body instantly starts to tremble.
I feel the orgasm building, growing, tingling like charged static electricity sizzling through my veins and every inch of my body.
“Logan…” I gasp. “I’m going to…” My words splinter and my limbs start outright shaking, my vision very nearly whiting out.
He finishes the sentence for me, turning the single word into a raw, feral command.
“Come.”
That’s all it takes to send me over the edge.
Devastating waves of pleasure explode outward from my clit, making every nerve ending I possess feel simultaneously seized by a live current.
Even my attempts to drag oxygen into my lungs feel like licks of fire down my throat, but in the best possible way. My only comparison is when I’m nearly at the top of a mountain, my muscles screaming from the climb, the safety of the ground nowhere in sight, and the only air available to me almost punishingly thin.
That’s when I realize every breath I’m exhaling is wrapped around his name.
I expect to find him triumphant over that fact, over the absolutely spectacular way he just paid me back for teasing him earlier. But his gaze is gentle, tender almost.
My fuzzy brain attempts to reboot enough to memorize that expression. The first—and only—time he’s ever looked at me with that much naked affection.
But then he goes and splinters my thoughts again as he scrapes the stubble of his chin along the side of my neck and tells me roughly, “That was fucking beautiful.”
Stepping back to zip and button me up, he growls matter-of-factly, “You’re going to do that for me again, sweetheart.” He presses a hard, but gentle kiss against my lips. “But in my mouth, this time. Then on my fucking cock.”
His stormy gaze pins me in place, harnessing me more effectively than any climbing ropes ever did. “But not until I say so.”
Oh god.
The man just got me off without even removing my jeans, and somehow, he has me halfway to another orgasm just from his words alone.
I’m in big trouble.