Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 50: Not In Public (Exactly)

It takes an instant for him to unsnap my jeans and lower the zipper. Then he guides my legs down his sides, until I’m standing on tiptoe, my back pressed hard against the tree. Slowly, inch by inch, his rough hands slide my clothes down. His thumb hooks through my panties, dragging them with my jeans.

Down my thighs.

Over my knees.

And he tosses my shoes and clothes off to the side.

I’d protest, but I’m too busy staring somewhere indecent to give a shit. Memories of our first encounter are fresh in my mind, playing on repeat.

Yes. I want more of that.

He steps forward, hands against my hips as he leans forward to press a gentle peck against my lips.

I glare at him, trying to summon some semblance of indignation and failing miserably. "You know exactly what you’re doing."

His lips barely brush against mine as he speaks. "I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart. Care to enlighten me?"

The teasing lilt in his voice is maddening. I want to wipe that smug look off his face, but I’m caught between the desire to kiss him senseless and beg him to fuck me against this random-ass tree and the urge to knee him in the groin.

Before I can decide, Logan’s hand slides up my side, his touch feather-light yet searing. I inhale sharply as his fingers graze the underside of my breast, my body arching into his touch of its own accord.

"Logan," I warn, but it comes out more like a plea.

He hums against my skin, the vibration sending shivers down my spine. "Yes, Nicole?"

I open my mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled moan as his thigh presses between my legs, forcing me to part them further. The friction is delicious, and I can’t help but roll my hips against him, seeking more. Rough denim scratches against the most vulnerable part of me, and it’s a delicious torment.

Logan’s breath hitches, and for a moment, I think I’ve gained the upper hand. But then he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they meet mine.

"Tell me what you want, Nicole," he says, his voice low and husky.

"To... go to the Fernsby Mansion?"

That’s not what I want. I’m fully invested in what’s going on here. But two can play the teasing game.

"Wrong answer," he mutters. "I should spank you."

My brows fly high. "Is that what you’re into?"

"Only when you’re naughty." His hands disappear from my body, leaving me cold and aching as I arch toward him. But then I see what he’s doing, unbuttoning his jeans as I watch.

Touching my top lip with my tongue, I don’t avert my gaze as his cock springs into view.

"Until my pheromones stop dumping, right?"

His growl tears my eyes from the length of him. Right. Our so-called contract.

I nod.

He steps closer, trailing the head of his cock along my belly, beneath the hem of my shirt. Warm against my skin, with the faintest hint of cold where his precum beads.

Teasing. Taunting. Driving me out of my goddamn mind.

"Tomorrow-Nicole can go to Fernsby. But tonight-Nicole has a contract to fulfill, doesn’t she?" His voice is thick with desire, and it sends another jolt of heat straight to my core.

When he looks at me, there’s something dark and primal in his eyes. It’s the same look he gave me in the bar that night, and it makes me want to do dirty things. Very dirty things.

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, his hands sliding to my thighs and lifting me back so I wrap my legs around his waist. And then, somehow, he’s lowering me down onto his cock.

I cry out, my head falling back against the tree trunk as he fills me in one smooth stroke. Every nerve ending in my body ignites, and I’m vaguely aware of him wrapping a hand around my throat. Gently. Barely touching me, and yet somehow it adds to the intensity of this moment.

His other hand presses against the small of my back, angling us together more perfectly.

He surges into me, hard and fast, our breaths coming in ragged pants. It’s rough and messy and exactly what I need. My body moves with his, my nails scraping down his back as our skin slaps together. It’s a deliciously wet, dirty sound that only adds to the moment. My hips move in a frenzied rhythm, meeting each deep thrust.

There’s a place inside of me that sparks every time he hits it, leaving me helpless and moaning every time.

"Fuck. Louder, Nicole. I want everyone on this mountain to hear you." His fingers dig into my skin, his thumb pressing against my pulse as he claims my mouth in a bruising kiss. And that’s when I realize something scary and exhilarating: I want more. Whatever he’s willing to give, I’ll take.

The pheromones wrapping around me almost have me begging for his bite. His mark. His claim.

I have to roll my lips in to keep the words from escaping.

"You’re mine," he growls, his words a deep rumble that goes straight to my clit. "Only mine."

Yes, yes, yes, the pherofucked part of my mind chants.

Whimpering against the pull of his pheromones, I lean forward to pepper kisses against his lips. Words are bad. If he keeps talking, I’m going to talk back—and it’s going to be whole, complete agreement.

I’ll give my everything to him without a second thought.

My hands tighten in his hair as his hips slow into long, sliding, torturous thrusts that make my breath catch. "Harder."

Logan’s growl is pure satisfaction, and then his lips are on my neck. Nipping. Sucking. Driving me wild. Right where a mating mark would likely go.

Bite me.

But I don’t let the words out.

His hand slides from the small of my back to my hips, and from my throat to my clavicle.

Fingers dig into my skin, probably leaving bruises. Each slam of his hips has my back jerking against the rough bark.

"Fuck, Nicole. I can’t—"

My hips arch at the desperate sound of his voice, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Harder," I whisper into his ear, feeling the shudder that wracks his body.

The rhythm changes from control to frenzy, his hips bucking wildly as both of his hands rest on my hips, holding me against him.

Then, a final thrust that has me seeing the goddamn Milky Way behind my eyes.

It takes a moment for me to realize what happened. I’m panting hard, my lungs struggling to keep up as my body slowly comes back to earth.

Huh. That was pretty damn good.

Carefully, Logan withdraws from me and lowers my legs to the ground, holding me steady as I rest against the tree.

My back burns a little. And between my thighs? I already feel sore from the stretch and friction.

Logan kneels without a word, shimmying my panties over my legs and up my hips. Then my jeans, with gentle care.

Through his gentle ministrations, his pants are still open, his cock still mostly hard.

"Well," he drawls, his eyes glinting with amusement. "That’s one way to clear the air."