Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(40)

I caught his fired eyes, took his thick, hard cock, panting and whimpering as he f*cked me.

“What you want?” he asked roughly.

“More,” I forced out through harsh breaths.

He kept thrusting, hitching a knee to put more power into it, holding me in place with his hand in my hair, his weight on me, and I put a foot to the bed to plant myself to take him at the same time I wrapped my other leg around his thigh to anchor myself to him.

I began gasping.

“What you want?” he repeated, and it sounded like a groan.

It took a lot but I managed a breathless, “Harder.”

His hips drove into mine and it was so beautiful, my eyes shut so I could focus on nothing but the feeling of Logan and me connecting, deep, brutal, driven.

“You kiss me before you come, Millie,” he ordered, his voice so rough, it scored my skin like sandpaper.

And I f*cking loved it.

“I—” I gasped, forcing my eyes open and looking into his, seeing it was close for him, too, feeling him getting closer, this taking me over the edge. “Okay,” I breathed, lifted my head, and pressed my mouth to his.

My whimper slid down his throat as his tongue drove inside.

I took that and the latest orgasm he gave me before his drives turned to pounds. He released my mouth, yanked my hair back, my neck arched, and he shoved his face in the side where he groaned while he bucked inside me and shot deep.

I closed my eyes and took it, loving it, my head turning, lips tipping up into a smile.

I gloried in his uneven breaths wisping across my skin, his cock buried, his chest hair gently scratching my breasts, his weight on me.

Then he asked my neck, “You covered with birth control?”

Was I ever.

But he’d come inside.

The last time, after that night at Wild Bill’s, it had been another agony, coming home and washing him away from me.

This night, it wouldn’t be.

He might have come to win this bizarre battle we’d somehow gotten locked in to.

But no way was he the victor.

No f*cking way.

“Yeah,” I answered. “You covered with STDs?” I asked.

It was nasty but even if it was too late, it was necessary.

He lifted his head and I rearranged my features before I righted mine and caught his guarded eyes with my own.

“Could ask the same,” he stated.

I gave a slight shrug. “No worries here.”

“Same,” he grunted, staring down at me, not moving.

I stared up at him and this went on for a while before I let my lips curve and I taunted quietly, “Feel like a winner, baby?”

He pressed his hips deep and involuntarily my lips parted, this driving his return taunt home. “Absolutely, darlin’.”

I gathered my shit together and stated coldly, “Then I suppose we’re done... for now.”

Without a word or any hesitation, he pulled out and rolled off.

I immediately pushed up, catching him on his back, lifting his hips to pull up his jeans.

God, Logan in my bed doing that?

That was hot too.

I tore my eyes away from his beautiful cock, still hard and glistening with him and me.

Sitting on the bed, I righted my bra and reached under my pillow to get my pj’s, thrilled they were a good set. A shimmery green, silky knit with scads and scads of fancy teal lace. Pants and a cami. The lace on the pants around the hems and cutting up the outsides of the legs all the way up to my upper thighs.

I pulled on the cami, then got out of bed and yanked on the pants.

Not looking at him, I strolled as casually as I could muster into my bathroom.

I hurriedly found what I was looking for and strolled back to find him sitting on the end of my bed, jeans done up, pulling on his boots.

I bent at the knees in a ladylike squat, capturing his wrist, and tugged his arm to me.

I also got his gaze.

I ignored it, pulled the top off my lipstick with my lips, spit it out, and rolled up the tube.

Then I wrote my cell phone number down the inside of his forearm.

I let him go, nabbed the top from the floor, and rolled the stick down, capping it as I turned my eyes to him.

“Anytime you want more, tiger, you know how to get me,” I whispered.

“I’ll take it,” he rumbled.

“Good,” I continued whispering, playing a game I didn’t understand, terrified of it but not about to let him get the best of me.

Not again.

Not ever again.

“Use you up,” he promised, a threat that was also a turn-on.

“Can’t wait,” I replied.

“You’ll give,” he declared.

I faked misunderstanding. “Oh yeah, I will.”

“You’ll give, Millie,” he growled.

It was my turn to promise.

“Until you can’t take anymore.”

He made a noise that sounded like it came from deep in his chest, a roll of fury and hunger.

My win.

I smiled, straightened, and wandered back to the bathroom, saying, “I’ll lock up after you leave.”

I stopped in the bathroom door and turned back to him.

He was still sitting on the end of my bed, shirtless, his elbows to his knees, eyes to me, looking sated at the same time pissed.