Page 13 of Shifters Reckoning

What’s taking him so long? I bit back the words, but he must’ve seen the frustration on my face, heard it through the bond, because he let out a low roaring laugh.

“Oh, Emma.” He leaned over me. His jaw tightened. His irises darkened.

I whimpered, regretting that we had torn our clothes apart. If he’d had a shirt, I would have grabbed it and pulled him closer.

Instead, I leaned upward, and my hand reached behind his neck, forcing him to me.

His tongue teased my tits, and I straddled his leg. He pushed his knee up against my center, and I rode him. My pulse matched the rhythm of my body. When Logan lifted his head, I grabbed a fistful of hair, guiding him between my legs.

He took me in his mouth, and my needy groan escaped. He pulled back for a second and started to speak, but I silenced him with a glare. It wasn’t the look he gave me in the shower or even the one I shot him moments earlier. No, this was commanding, and the wicked grin on his face showed me he was eating up this version of me.

He delayed as though basking in my eagerness.

My hands slid over his shoulders. “I’m waiting…”

He smiled, and I could tell he wanted to say something cocky in response, but I placed my feet on his shoulders and shoved my hips in his face.

His grin dropped away, and he locked in. The wind stirred the leaves above us, scattering waterfalls of sunlight across our skin. He dragged his tongue over me, thrusting and lapping at what I’d served him.

“That’s so good,” I moaned. My hips created their own wild narrative of need. “Touch yourself while you do this,” I commanded.

He growled against me, vibrating my folds against his face. He reached down, his licks amplified by his soft moans.

The entire fucking world could end right here, right now, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Logan repeated my name like a prayer, watching me from desire-clouded eyes.

Emma… Emma… Emma…

Shit, I felt like a goddess.

I beamed at him, and his hands returned to my hips, ramming me into his tongue.

“Don’t stop touching yourself,” I said, caressing the back of his neck between my legs.

He paused.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of us moved. I knew he was calculating the logistics… if he could keep himself from coming.

“Emma, I don’t think I can.” He didn’t obey. He buried his face in me once more until I could no longer play the role of the dominant, as he continued to fuck me senseless with his mouth.

Logan slid his fingers into me, and as much as I wanted to hold still and demand he please himself too, my hips arched.

“Come for me, Emma.”

And I did.

So hard, screaming his name, shaking the ground, and sending a torrent of leaves down around us, and on us. When Logan lifted his head, three leaves had settled in his hair, sticking out in three different directions, and I giggled as I freed them from his disheveled hair.

Abruptly, Logan flipped me over onto all fours before guiding his length into me. My ass slammed against him. He grabbed my hair, tugging wildly, sending me careening toward another climax.

I clawed at the leaves beneath my hands. Logan released my hair, one hand reaching to cup my left breast and the other making its way to my clit.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, like that,” I gasped as he took me.

Logan slowed his movements, measuring each plunge.

I growled in disapproval. His control of our pace drove me crazy, igniting my desire like gasoline tossed onto a blaze.