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…

14:50

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.

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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217

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

14:56

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