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.

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

a low rumble builds in his chest.

little one,” he warns, his voice a low, gravelly purr that sends shivers racing down my spine. “I can smell your need from here. It’s taking everything

body arching helplessly towards him. The heat is a living inferno now,

torn from

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217

Ava: Virgin Heat

cry.

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

fresh need. “You need to be claimed, don’t you,

last.”

as he takes me with brutal, claiming force. His knot swelling inside me, locking us together as he floods me with his seed,

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

No claiming.

3/7

Ava: Virgin

Just sex.

from all this.

But-

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

closer.

his eyes blazing like twin emerald flames. “No

I can feel the scorching heat of his body, can smell the heady, musky scent of his

you, Ava,” he murmurs, his breath fanning hot across my lips. “Let me claim

crashes down on mine, swallowing

of unrice as he kinnon me with

murarica na ha

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foracious

417

Virgin Heat

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

the blazing heat of his kiss and the hard planes of his body pressed against mine. My fingers tangle in his

fire rages hotter, burning away the

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

groaning at the feel of rough, wet denim against my core. The friction is maddeningly delicious and I can’t quite get the angle