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 through me. I whimper, my thighs clenching tight as I struggle to stay standing.

rumble builds in his chest. He takes a step forward, his

my spine. “I can smell your need

me at his words, my body arching helplessly towards him. The heat is a living inferno now,

I beg, the word torn from my lips in a

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Virgin Heat (1)

cry.

bring 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

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

last.”

my eyes–Clayton 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

that it isn’t right, that Clayton isn’t my fated mate, no matter how badly my instincts are

No claiming.

3/7

Virgin Heat

Just sex.

from all this.

But-

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

closer.

in Clayton’s chest as he prowls closer, his eyes blazing like twin emerald flames.

of my head as he cages me in. I can feel the scorching heat of his body, can smell the heady, musky

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

mouth crashes down on mine, swallowing my

of unrice as he kinnon me

murarica na ha

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foracious

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Virgin Heat

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

and the hard planes of his body pressed against mine. My fingers tangle in his hair, clutching

away the last vestiges

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

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