Tangled

41 Ava: Virgin Heat (1)

41 Ava: Virgin Heat (I)

I brace myself against the slick tiles, my chest heaving with harsh, ragged breaths as Clayton’s eyes blaze into mine. The heat between us is a living, breathing thing, a palpable force that crackles in the air like an electric

current.

“Clayton,” I manage, my voice a breathless rasp. “We need to… call the guards.”

My words would probably have a little more punch if I wasn’t still working my fingers between my thighs. His eyes fall from my face to my hands, and he steps

forward.

A thrill rushes through me, and I spread my legs a little farther. “The guards,” I prompt, even as I bring myself to yet another orgasm, panting as my face flushes with

its heat.

I want his fingers, not mine.

I want his tongue, not his fingers.

I want his cock, not his tongue.

I want…

14:50

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41 Ava: Virgin Heat (1)

Fuck, I can’t handle this.

His nostrils flare at the sound of my voice, his jaw clenching as a muscle ticks in his chiseled cheek. I can see the war raging within him, the primal alpha instincts battling against his ironclad control.

growls, and the sound of my name on his lips sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me. I whimper, my thighs clenching tight as I struggle

in on the motion, darkening to smoky jade as a low rumble builds in his

my spine. “I can smell

his words, my body arching helplessly towards him. The heat is a living inferno now, an all–consuming blaze that threatens to reduce

the word torn from my lips in

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217

Ava: Virgin Heat

cry.

myself to say it, to voice the craving that consumes me from the inside out. But Clayton seems to understand, his eyes glittering with a feral light as he takes

“You need to be

last.”

eyes–Clayton pinning me down, spearing into me over and over as he takes me with brutal,

this maddening heat demands. But some small, rational part of me knows that it isn’t right, that Clayton isn’t my fated

No claiming.

3/7

Virgin Heat (1)

Just sex.

relief from

But-

strain. “We need… the guards.” I’m trying to maintain rationality, and

closer.

blazing like twin emerald flames. “No guards, little one,” he counters, his tone

the tile on either side of my head as he cages me in. I can feel the scorching heat of his body, can smell the heady, musky scent of his arousal mingling with mine in the

care of you, Ava,” he murmurs, his breath fanning hot

down on mine,

unrice as he kinnon

murarica na ha

14:56

foracious

417

Ava: Virgin Heat

His tongue plunges past my lips, stroking against mine in a blatant possession that has me arching into him

drowning in the taste of him, in the blazing heat of his kiss and the hard

away the last vestiges of my control.

hands curls into my hair, yanking

way that makes my hips buck. He slides one jean–clad leg between mine, and I grind down immediately, groaning at the feel of rough, wet denim against my core. The friction is maddeningly delicious and I can’t quite get the angle for