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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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.

the sound of my name on his lips sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me. I whimper,

as a low rumble builds in his

shivers racing down my spine. “I can smell your need from here.

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

beg, the word torn from my

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217

Ava: Virgin Heat

keening cry.

bring myself to say it, to voice the craving that consumes me from the inside out. But Clayton seems to understand, his eyes

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.”

from my lips as images explode behind 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 floods me with his seed, branding me as his

my 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

No claiming.

3/7

Virgin Heat (1)

Just sex.

relief from

But-

strain. “We need… the guards.” I’m trying

closer.

emerald flames. “No guards, little one,” he counters, his tone laced with steel. “Just

between us in two long strides, his hands slamming against the tile on either side of my head as he cages me in. I can feel the scorching heat of his body, can

his breath

down on mine, swallowing my

of unrice as he kinnon me

murarica na ha

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foracious

417

Virgin Heat

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

the hard planes of his body pressed against mine. My fingers tangle in

rages hotter, burning away the

my hair, yanking my head back

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