Page 110 of Mortdale

His other hand came to my breast, and I bit down a whimper when he sank to his knees between my legs. His mouth left bruising kisses up my thighs. My knuckles turned white as my nails sank into the wooden surface, watching him bury his face against my sex. Every nerve ending in my body burned, my insides violently quivering when his wet tongue dragged against my clit before his mouth wrapped around it. My bones resounded with his deep, gruff hum, vibrating pleasure down to the marrow as he devoured me.

“Please,” I gasped, a moan climbing out of my lungs.

His eyes rolled up to mine, dark and hungry, consuming me from within.

I couldn’t look away from him, watching his fingers plunge in and out of me and his tongue work that bundle of nerves until I was melting into the woodgrain. A tremble raked down my body as the tight pressure pressing against my core built until it erupted.

Sweat dripped down my stomach as I breathed in and out while he kissed his way up my body. Pressing his lips over my stomach, each rib, and my heart. Stopping to bite down on my sensitive nipples, taking his time licking the column of my throat, gently nipping at my jaw. And then…kissing me. It wasn’t a soft, gentle kiss. Not rushed, either. Whatever barrier had existed between us up until that moment had completely shattered. There was no tension in his muscles as I took the liberty to skim my fingers down his arms, his scarred chest, the dip on his lower back, up his spine. He was cold, velvet soft and hard at the same time.

Breathlessly, he pulled back to look at me, brushing the tip of his thumb across my chin.

Lowering my head, I caught it between my teeth. “What?”

“I just want to remember this. I want to remember you. If I die, this is the last thing I want to see.” His lip twitched as he brushed the back of his hand to my cheek. “The look in your eyes, I want to remember that most. You want me like I want you.”

Warm tears gathered on my lower lashes as I shakily whispered, “I do. So much. Please.” I didn’t even know what I was begging for. But my body knew.

The back of his hand lowered from my cheek, skimming down my throat, catching on a nipple, and triggering a ripple of pleasure to dance across my skin.

He shoved his trousers down, his cock thick, long, and hard as he slowly stroked himself. I shivered when he ran the swollen tip up and down the length of my sex. My back bowed and my fingers dug into the table when he pushed inside me just an inch, only to pull back again.

He looked drunk, eyes gone entirely black as he watched me squirm against him. Watching his eyes fill with want while he forced himself to hold back was the sole most tantalising sight I’d witnessed. The way his hard muscles tensed with restraint, shaking underneath my palms as he breathed out. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, moving his callused palms up and down my thighs. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

He made me believe that, too. Every time he looked at me—solely by the way he looked at me. He made me feel wanted. Desired. Needed.

“I think I should let you know that I have never done this before,” I said, watching him line his cock to my entrance again.

“Saints, Willow,” he breathed, sounding pained.

“What? It doesn’t matter. I know where everything goes.” My fingers sank into the back of his head as I pulled him close enough to kiss him. “Just fuck me already,” I murmured, slipping my tongue between his lips, licking the back of his fangs and tasting the venom dripping again.

His gaze held mine as he spit on his hand and slowly stroked his cock. “Say that again.”

I arched back with my palms against the table. “Stop playing with me like I’m the last bite on your plate and just fuck me.”

He smiled against my lips and swallowed my gasp when the thick head of his cock breached me before drawing out again.

My chest stuck to his with each heavy breath I inhaled, watching him stroke himself. “Will it hurt?”

“It might for a bit.”

“You’re not really selling me on this.”

His lips were gentle against my cheek as he left small, tender kisses. “Want to drive a dagger through my ribs at the same time?”

I smiled against his mouth. “Now we’re talking business.”

I thought he was joking until he reached for a dagger strapped in his discarded holster and put it in my hand, bringing said hand to point said dagger right between his ribs.

He lowered his mouth to kiss me, and I gasped when he pushed my hand until the dagger was a few inches deep into his flesh, not even noticing the shock of the intrusion between my thighs. “Logan,” I hissed, my eyes screwed shut while my other hand pushed against his chest, my nails clawing at his skin, as he sank into me.

He groaned against my mouth, his brows gathered in pain while his eyes glistened with a different kind of agony as he pulled hips back in slow, shallow thrusts until his cock was buried all the way inside me. A look of pure intoxication settled on his face as he watched where we joined. His hand slid into my hair, grasping the roots to anchor me there as he slowly picked up his pace. “Fuck, your cunt is so wet. You’re so wet for me, Willow.”

The bottom of my belly trembled from the new and unfamiliar sensation building up between my legs with each drag of his cock stretching me. “You were made for me,” he murmured. “And I was made only for you. I’m yours. Only yours.”

I whimpered against his mouth, sucking on his bloodied lip as he started thrusting in an uneven, pounding rhythm—the wet sounds of our bodies ricocheted off the walls, drowned only by my moans. Pleasure mixed with the faint hints of pain, and I sat on a teetering edge, dragged back and forth on it like a rag doll. I wanted more—so much more. My jaw slacked with a moan when something coiled tightly in my belly. “Logan, I can’t.”

“Open your eyes, honey. Look at me,” he breathed, his fingers sliding down my nape, holding my gaze locked on his as his hips started rocking steadily against mine. “You’re doing so good, honey.” His lips skimmed the bridge of my nose before they crashed against mine. “So good. So, so good.”