Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(26)

That masculine smugness in his voice made her curious. “Exactly how do you know that?”

He pressed a thumb to her clit, and she cried out, her nails cutting in to his shoulders again. “Because of that.” He slid a finger lower and circled around her opening, then ever so slowly pushed into her, causing her to gasp in reaction. “And that,” he murmured. “If I had a finger sunk deep inside you when you came, you’d clenched all around me, wouldn’t you? Milk my finger like you would my cock.”

She bit her lip and wiggled her h*ps a bit, too shy to answer.

“You’re sweet, and you’re smart, and sexy, and so very real, Bront?. That’s what I like about you.” He leaned in and gave her another light kiss, his fingers leaving her p**sy, and she nearly cried out with disappointment.

“I like you too, Logan,” she said softly, her hands moving over his arms and chest, caressing his skin. “I want to touch you.”

“I want to f**k you,” he murmured against her mouth, and she gasped at his directness. “I promise I’ll pull out.”

She nodded, and gasped with surprise when his tongue thrust into her mouth, even as he shifted and she felt the head of his c*ck fit up against the slick opening of her sex.

Logan Hawkings definitely wasn’t one to mince words. He told her what he wanted and went after it. Bront? realized this an instant before he thrust deep, and she whimpered at the sting of unused muscles as he seated himself deep inside her.

He tensed over her. “Virgin?”

She shook her head. “Just been a while, that’s all. Give me a moment.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, his tongue dancing over hers in a way that felt incredibly decadent with his sex buried in her own. When she nudged her h*ps slightly, he swung his, rocking the two of them in a slow, circular motion that made Bront? instantly aware of every muscle in his body—and hers.

“Oh . . . do that again,” she breathed, holding on to him tightly.

Logan did, repeating the motion and exaggerating it for her benefit. It was a subtle roll of his hips, but he pressed forward and pushed enough that it rocked her body with his, and the slow roll of their h*ps brushed him against her clit, sending sensations pinging through her. She moaned again, her heels digging into his buttocks, encouraging him.

He was not a man who needed much encouragement. This time, when he thrust, he surged deep inside her, rocking her entire body on the blanket and causing her to cry out with pleasure. She clung to him as he began a hard, steady thrusting, pushing deep and hard inside her with every muscle, every sinew in his body. Her world narrowed down to his hips, pushing against hers, the grit of sand on the blanket at her back, the smack of his flesh against hers as he thrust deep again, the bounce of her br**sts with every jolt of their bodies. She lost herself in the sensations, her eyes closed, her head thrown back. He was breathing hard over her, every breath a satisfied rasp, as she began to make soft, pleased noises in her throat with each thrust he made.

The elusive orgasmic feeling was rising again, and she focused in on it, moving her h*ps in time with his to ensure that each thrust was deeper, harder, stronger, and with each push of his c*ck into her, she got a little closer to coming.

He shifted his weight, adjusting her hips, and with his next thrust, her eyes flew open. That had been . . . different. The almost-but-not-quite orgasm feeling hovering at the edges of her consciousness flared to the forefront, and when his next thrust pushed forward, it happened again. Her p**sy clenched around him in response, and he groaned even as he sucked in a breath.

“Wh-what was that?”

Logan’s hands moved to her hips, angling her just so, and then he thrust again. When she keened in response, he grinned down at her, the look wicked and triumphant all at once. “G-spot.”

Oh, God. She didn’t think anyone had ever hit it before. And oh, God, she really liked it. Her nails clawed his back again. “I need more.”

He gave another brutal surge, shoving their bodies across the blankets with his next push, and she cried out as the orgasm danced so close. Her feet left his hips, and she planted them on the ground so she could better lift her h*ps when he pushed in again, and thrust just as hard against him, her h*ps working furiously in time with his. That spot was back, and his short, quick pumps were rubbing up against it in the most incredible way that made her entire body arch with pleasure. She was so close and then—

She cried out as the orgasm rushed through her with force. Her sex clenched tight around him, and she heard him utter a muffled curse before he pulled out. She dropped her h*ps back to the ground as he stroked his c*ck with his hand, once, twice, and then he was coming on her belly, hot jets of come splashing over her skin.

Once done, he exhaled heavily and lay down on the blanket next to her, where she was staring up at the sky, dazed and dreamy.

That was incredible. Mind-blowing. She’d totally forgot about being on the beach, though she suspected the sand that had gotten on the blanket would remind her soon enough. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Thank you?” He was still panting. “For pulling out?”

“No,” she said dreamily, though that was nice of him, too. “For showing me where the G-spot was. I had no idea. I think I’m ruined for non-G-spot sex now.”

He laughed, the sound short and forceful. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”