Tangled
Chapter 40
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.
of desire
motion, darkening to smoky jade as a low rumble builds in his chest. He takes a step forward, his movements slow and
racing down my spine. “I can smell your
him. The heat is a living inferno now, an all–consuming blaze that threatens to reduce me to
I beg, the word torn from my
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Virgin Heat
cry. “I
But Clayton
alpha,” he finishes, his tone a dark promise that has my core clenching with fresh need. “You need to be claimed, don’t you, little one? Filled and bred until that delicious heat
last.”
me with brutal, claiming force. His knot swelling inside me, locking us together as he floods me with his seed, branding
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
No claiming.
3/7
Virgin Heat (1)
Just sex.
relief from all
But-
voice cracking with strain. “We need… the guards.” I’m trying to maintain rationality, and
closer.
prowls closer, his eyes blazing like twin emerald flames. “No guards, little one,” he counters,
in. I can feel the scorching heat of his body, can smell the heady, musky scent of his arousal mingling with
Ava,” he murmurs, his breath fanning hot across
down on mine,
of unrice as he kinnon me with
murarica na ha
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foracious
417
Virgin
my lips, stroking against mine in a blatant possession that has me arching into him with a desperate
drowning in the taste of him, in the blazing heat of his kiss and the hard planes of his body pressed against mine. My fingers tangle
fire rages hotter, burning away the last vestiges of
curls into my hair, yanking my head back as he plunders my
between mine, and I grind down immediately, groaning at the feel of rough, wet denim against my core. The friction
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