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…

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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.

the sound of my name on his lips sends a fresh wave of desire crashing

as a low rumble builds in his chest. He takes a step forward, his movements slow and

my spine. “I can smell your need from here. It’s taking everything I have not to take you right

body arching helplessly towards him. The heat is a living inferno now, an all–consuming blaze that threatens to reduce me to ashes if I don’t find

word torn from

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217

Virgin

cry. “I need…”

me from the inside out. But Clayton seems to understand, his eyes glittering with a feral light as

alpha,” he finishes, his tone a dark promise that has my core clenching with fresh need. “You need to be claimed, don’t

last.”

me with brutal, claiming force. His knot swelling inside me, locking us together as he floods me with his seed, branding me as his mate from the inside out.

demands. But some small, rational part of me knows that it isn’t right, that Clayton isn’t my fated mate, no matter how badly my instincts are screaming for me to let him claim

No claiming.

3/7

Virgin Heat (1)

Just sex.

from all

But-

my voice cracking with strain. “We need… the guards.” I’m trying to maintain rationality, and yet I

closer.

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

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

you, Ava,” he murmurs, his breath fanning

crashes down on mine, swallowing

unrice as he kinnon me with

murarica na ha

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foracious

417

Virgin Heat

stroking against mine in a blatant possession that has me arching into him with a desperate mewl.

taste of him, in the blazing heat of his kiss and the hard planes of his body pressed against

fire rages hotter, burning away the last vestiges of

hair, yanking my head back as he plunders my mouth.

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 my clit, frustrating me to no end.