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He smirks, nodding. “I never wanted that life. Not before I met you…anddefinitelynot now I’ve met you. I can’t imagine it.”
After I take my shoes off, he reaches down and pulls me to my feet. His arms wrap around my body in the most protective way.
I sink into him, moaning softly as his hands slide around my hips and down to my ass.
“When you moan like that,” he snarls in my ear, then starts kissing my neck. The kisses make little explosions of lust all over my skin. “It makes me think I’m going to finish. Fucking explode right here. But I’m not doing that unless it’s in your tight virgin pussy.”
“Yes,” I moan, struggling to force the word out past the heat between my legs, on my neck, everywhere.
It’shim, cloaking me in steaminess.
“You need it as badly as I do.”
He pulls at the fabric of my dress, slipping his hands beneath it and massaging my bare skin.
Tingles shimmer over me as I rub against him, grinding my body up and down as my nipples ache, my core screams out, and his hands sink deeper and with more carnal ownership into the mounds of my ass.
“I need you naked again,” he whispers huskily before bringing his lips to mine.
His hands roam all over me as we kiss, lost in our tongues clashing and the sparks sending even more temptation surging over me.
“Now, Lucy, myperfectfucking virgin.”
He takes a step back, staring at me with the expression I once mistook for anger or disinterest. But now, as he consumes me with his confident gaze, I see it for what it really is.
It’s him holding himself back from fully unleashing on me.
“I might need some help with this dress,” I murmur.
His lips tremble as he smirks. “That depends on if you mind me tearing it.”
Another moan escapes me. Nerves try to push me down constantly, trying to invade this moment and poison it with its bullshit.
But I force it away, force everything away except for the essential unbelievable body-tinglingfactthat Logan Locke wants me, just me.
All my silly fantasies….
They’re coming true right now.
“If you don’t mind tearing the dress,” I murmur. “Idon’t. It’s just…you paid for….”
I’m about to sayit, but then he’s on me again. He moves like a savage finally let out of his cage, his claim-me hands gripping my hips.
I squeal in delight as he tears at the fabric, his breath coming quick, hot as it paints over my skin.
He can’t stop. I can feel it, the urgency, and I answer with the same.
My hands move to his shirt, ripping at the buttons. We kiss in stolen snatches between the bursts of lust, both of us unable to stop, neverwantingto stop.
He groans through a kiss as I tear my fingernails down his chest. I pop buttons, my body driving me on, my core fueling wave upon wave of desire that makes my body sizzle, every inch of it.
That’s what we are, for a little while. The kissing and the tearing, completely giving ourselves to this sensation of ultimate, undeniable desire.
Then he pulls the dress up, over my head, in a way he wouldn’t have been able to before he tore it. He moans when I’m standing here in my underwear, his gaze moving to my breasts as he leans down, pulling my bra down and pushing my breasts together.
I whimper as he sucks on my nipples, one then the other.
It’s the feeling of it, his tongue swirling around, but it’s also the way he moans. It’s like he can’t believe how much he loves my breasts, how sexy I am. And even if my instinct is to push that away, I don’t. I embrace it, stroking my hands over his shoulders and tugging at his shirt.
