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

1177

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.

lips sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me.

to smoky jade as a low rumble builds in his chest. He takes a step forward, his movements

that sends shivers racing down my spine. “I can smell your

arching helplessly towards him. The heat is a living inferno now, an all–consuming blaze that

word torn

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217

Virgin Heat

keening cry. “I

that consumes me from the inside out. But Clayton seems

alpha,” he finishes, his tone a dark promise that has my core clenching with fresh need. “You need to be claimed,

last.”

pinning me down, spearing into me over and over as he takes me with brutal, claiming force. His knot swelling inside me, locking us together as he

body craves, everything this maddening heat 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

No claiming.

3/7

Virgin Heat

Just sex.

relief from

But-

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

closer.

chest as he prowls closer, his eyes blazing like twin emerald flames. “No guards, little one,”

his body, can smell the heady, musky scent of his

of you, Ava,” he murmurs, his breath fanning hot across my lips. “Let me claim what’s mine.”

crashes down on

unrice as he kinnon

murarica na ha

14:56

foracious

417

Ava: Virgin

tongue plunges past my lips, stroking against mine in a blatant

and the hard planes of his body pressed against mine.

as the fire rages hotter, burning away the last vestiges

his hands curls into my hair, yanking my head back as he plunders my

a 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