Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 52: Logan’s Sweet Gesture

His lips brush the shell of my ear as he speaks, and I shiver. All the nerve endings in my body seem to be on high alert, screaming for more.

But instead of giving me what we both know I want, he backs off and teases my clit with light, feathery strokes. It’s maddening. Delicious. Torture.

Each tiny touch sends sparks careening through me, lighting every nerve ending like a firework display. But it’s not enough. Not even close.

I need more. Him. Now.

With a growl of frustration, I buck my hips back, yearning for the hard slide of him deep inside me.

Logan’s hand stills at the same moment his lips find the sensitive spot just below my ear. "Feisty. I like it," he murmurs, his hot breath fan across my skin.

He grinds his hips forward, just a fraction, filling me a little more. "You’re so tight, sweetheart. So wet. This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?"

I gasp as pleasure shoots through me, white-hot and intense. "Yes," I whisper. In this moment, with my body so attuned to his, being together feels as natural as breathing.

"Yes, what?" he prompts, nipping at my earlobe.

I’m not usually one to beg, but something about this man brings out a side of me I barely recognize. A wild, wanton creature who craves his touch like a drug.

"Yes, more?" What was his question? I can’t remember.

His hips snap forward, driving deep into me, and I cry out, my fingers digging into the pillow beneath me.

He stills, buried to the hilt, and for a moment, we’re both frozen.

But only for a moment.

Logan begins to move, slowly at first. Pulling almost all the way out before surging back in, searching for that perfect spot. I moan, my head dropping back, giving him better access to my neck.

His breath washes over my skin, his lips grazing the column of my throat. "I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging for more."

I whimper at the delicious image his words conjure, my hips moving in time with his. But before long, the relentless coil of need inside me demands more. Faster. Harder. Anything.

"Logan, please. Harder."

He chuckles, the vibrations dancing along my skin. "As you wish, my lady."

At his words, his hips snap forward, driving into me with fervor. All pretense of control is gone, replaced by raw, primal need.

His thrusts are forceful, pounding into me as he drives me wild with pleasure. My moans fill the room, mingling with his deep, guttural groans.

Each thrust knocks the breath from my lungs, and I can feel the climax building, tightening every muscle in my body like a coiled spring.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore, Logan reaches down again, his fingers finding my swollen clit. He rubs in tight circles, his thumb adding pressure.

I shatter like glass, crying out into the pillow as the orgasm tears through me, wave after wave of pleasure stealing my breath and my sanity.

Logan doesn’t stop. His hips continue their relentless pace, prolonging my orgasm until I’m sobbing into the pillow, overloaded with sensation.

Finally, with one last thrust, he follows me over the edge, his body pulsing against mine as he spills himself inside me with a hoarse shout.

We lay there, tangled together, our breath coming in ragged gasps as our hearts pound in time.

* * *

"It’s noon."

"My pheromones haven’t calmed down yet," Logan mutters against my neck, one hand sliding up my inner thigh.

Smacking his arm away, I wiggle out of his arms and dash for the shower, slamming the door in his face when he tries to chase me. freewebnoveℓ.com

"Not fair! I want to shower with you," he groans through the door, sounding for all the world like I stole his candy or something.

Which... Well, I kind of did.

"No. The last time you said that, you dragged me back into bed." Locking the door with a flourish, I flounce to the shower and turn on the water, ignoring his pout.

I can feel it, even through the door.

The magma-temperature water helps soothe my aching body.

Every muscle feels strained, protesting the night’s—and morning’s—activities. I swear under my breath, promising myself I’m never having sex again. It’s not worth feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck.

"Stupid werewolf stamina," I mutter, reaching for the shampoo. The scent of hotel—seriously, do they all use the same brand?—fills the steamy air as I work the lather through my hair, trying to ignore the soreness between my legs.

What am I doing? Getting involved with Logan is a complication I don’t need right now. I’m a suspect in a murder investigation, for crying out loud. And he’s the one investigating me.

But no matter how much I tell myself I made a bad decision, my heart stands firm in saying it was the best decision ever.

Damn it. This is why relationships are bad. They get in the way of normal, basic logic.

Me: Murder suspect.

Him: Law enforcement.

No matter how you mix those two together, it should never end up under the category romantic entanglement. Yet, here we are.

Tumbling into bed with a sexy werewolf.

But even as I chastise myself, I can feel the ghost of his touch on my skin. The way his hands moved over me, the heat of his breath on my neck... I shiver, despite the warm water.

Down, girl. Down.

I’m too sore to even think about that stuff.

I finish my shower, taking extra care with my aching muscles. As I step out and wrap a towel around myself, I brace for Logan’s inevitable attempt to lure me back to bed. But when I open the bathroom door, I’m met with silence.

The room is empty. No Logan in sight.

Frowning, I step further into the room, water dripping from my hair onto the carpet. That’s when I notice something on the bed—a stack of neatly folded clothes that definitely weren’t there before. Brand new, by the looks of it.

A small piece of paper rests on top of the pile.

Grabbing us some food. Back soon. -L

It’s such a simple gesture, but it warms something inside me. He thought about my needs, made sure I had clean clothes, and is getting us food. It’s... sweet.