Page 88 of Left Cold, Wolf Owned
He moves deep and deliberate, a pace with absolutely no hurry, and intends for every stroke to be felt. I wrap my legs around him and pull him closer and feel him groan against my temple, a low, rough sound that vibrates through me and makes everything better. Deep and slow, filling me completely, pulling back until sounds escape me that I don't bother managing.
His hand slides between us, and his thumb finds my clit and begins working slow, deliberate circles, and I grab his forearm and hold on because the combination of him inside me and his thumb doing that is genuinely more than I know what to do with.
"Logan—" His name comes out somewhere between a gasp and a demand, which covers everything I need it to cover.
"Right here," he says against my throat, low and certain. "Not going anywhere."
He keeps the pace and the pressure simultaneously, and I feel the pleasure building in layers—unlike the sharp urgency of the first time, there was something deeper and more consuming, something that starts at my center and radiates outward through every nerve ending I own. His mouth drops to my breast, his tongue tracing my nipple with the same deliberate attention he applies to everything that matters, and I arch into it and grip the sheets.
"That's—" I start.
"Yeah," he agrees against my skin, like he can feel exactly what it's doing.
He pulls back then—slowly, with intention—and flips me onto my stomach, his hands finding my hips and pulling them back toward him.
"Logan—" I gasp, not in complaint.
"I've got you," he growls, low, and drives back into me from behind.
The angle is entirely new and entirely devastating. I grip the headboard with both hands and feel him everywhere—the depth of him; the grip of his hands on my hips; the particular view he has from this angle that I know from the sharp intake of his breath is doing something significant for him.
"You are—" he starts, roughly.
"More," I gasp, pressing back against him. "Don't stop."
"You're perfect," he manages, low and wrecked, his hands sliding from my hips to the curve of my ass with a reverence that makes me feel seen in a way that goes considerably past physical. "Every single part of you."
I feel the pleasure building from an entirely new angle—deeper, more consuming—and I press back against him and feel him respond, the grip on my hips tightening, the pace shifting into something less patient and more urgent.
His hand reaches around and finds my clit again, his fingers working in tight circles while he drives into me from behind, and the double sensation is devastating—his cock filling me on every stroke, his fingers working the exact right pressure, and I am completely and entirely undone.
"Logan—" His name tears out of me. "I'm going to?—"
"I know," he says, rough against the back of my neck. "Let go."
I let go.
The orgasm breaks through me completely—starting deep where he fills me and radiating outward through every nerve ending I own—my pussy clenching around him, his name in my throat, my hands white-knuckled on the headboard. He follows me over with his hands locked on my hips and my name on his lips, his cock pulsing hard inside me as he comes apart—a low, wrecked sound pressed against my shoulder blade that I feel in my chest long after the sound itself has faded.
We collapse together in the aftermath, both breathing hard, neither of us in any hurry to reintroduce distance.
His hand finds the small of my back.
The fire settles in the other room.
I drift toward sleep with Logan's hand moving in slow, absent circles on my back and the fire still going in the other room and the mountain doing its enormous quiet thing around the cabin.
I think, in the last soft moment before sleep takes me, about the woman who walked out of a venue with eleven pounds of ruined silk and no plan and a car already overheating and not a single idea of what she was driving toward.
She ran away from everything she thought she was supposed to want.
And ended up exactly where she was supposed to be.
I'm not that woman anymore.
I'm the Alpha female of the Greyback pack, on a mountain I chose, beside a man who waited for me to choose him, and I am staying.
I close my eyes.
