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.

of desire crashing through me. I whimper, my thighs clenching tight as I struggle

his chest. He takes a step forward, his movements slow

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

my 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

word torn from my lips in

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Ava: Virgin Heat

cry. “I need…”

inside out. But Clayton seems to understand, his eyes glittering with a feral light as he takes another step

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 of yours is sated at

last.”

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

of me knows that it isn’t right, that Clayton

No claiming.

3/7

Virgin Heat (1)

Just sex.

relief from all this.

But-

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

closer.

closer, his eyes blazing like twin emerald flames. “No guards, little

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 steamy air. He’s soaked from the water, and I struggle with the urge

you, Ava,” he murmurs, his breath fanning

mouth crashes down on mine,

unrice as he kinnon me with a

murarica na ha

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foracious

417

Virgin Heat (1)

past my lips, stroking against mine in a blatant possession that has

of his kiss and the hard

hotter, burning away the last vestiges

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

slides down, pressing against my lower abdomen in 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 against my core. The friction is maddeningly delicious and I can’t quite get the angle for my clit, frustrating