Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(57)

“I’d be pissed if I wasn’t so turned on.” He stroked that finger in and out of me as he rolled my clit slowly with his thumb, deepening the pressure until I was crying out and surging against his hand.

“That’s it, naughty girl. This is why you came here,” he spoke against my throat.

I nodded, beyond words.

He crooked his finger inside me, hitting my sweet spot that he always seemed to know where to find. I shuddered and came apart against him, my hands flying to his flexing shoulders.

I was still flying, ripples of sensations eddying through me when he pulled me away from the door. Dimly, I assessed our surroundings as I followed him across the room. It was a masculine room full of dark colors and rich wood furniture. He guided me to a large mahogany desk and bent me over it, shoving my dress up farther until it bunched high around my waist.

He smoothed both hands over my backside and everything inside me clenched and ached, desperate to be filled with him.

“Georgia,” he breathed, kissing the small of my back and then lower, above each cheek. “You have the sweetest dimples here.” He pressed a lingering kiss to each spot and all of me quivered. His mouth moved lower, kissing each cheek.

I propped my elbows on the desk and looked over my shoulder. His eyes, heavy-lidded and dark as smoke met mine over the rounded swell of my hip. He kissed me again, using his teeth this time to bite me, the barest nip followed by the stroke of his tongue.

“Oh,” I sighed, instinctively parting my legs wider. He rubbed against me as I thrust back into his hard erection, his clothes a frustrating barrier. He pulled back slightly and I whimpered at the loss. Even when I heard his zipper and knew he was doing it just to free himself and give me what I needed, I didn’t care. I was needy and achy and couldn’t stand, even for that moment, to lose the pressure of him against the core of me.

I looked back over my shoulder at him again, feeling wanton and alive and totally unlike that girl I was desperately trying to leave behind for the night. “Logan.”

He was reaching for his back pocket, but paused at the sight of me.

I locked my gaze on his face, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. “I want you inside me. Now.”

He nodded once, his expression fierce, a savage light in his eyes as he pulled his wallet the rest of the way out—and I realized he was stopping for a condom. I hadn’t even thought about it, which really should alarm me. I should be relieved that he was the responsible one and thought of it, but instead I heard myself saying, “No. I want you inside me. Like last time. I want to feel every inch of you moving in me.”

“Georgia.” His voice came out strangled. “You don’t have to—”

I pushed my bottom back out toward him in invitation, in trust, rocking my hips. “I trust you, Logan.” And I realized I did. There was nothing about this guy that wasn’t as clear and honest as morning sunlight on my face. He was more than a gorgeous guy objectified by coeds. He wasn’t just a jock or Reece Mulvaney’s brother.

“We’re safe,” I assured him. He was clean. I was on the pill, and I wanted him in me so badly I shook like an addict craving her next fix.

He curved his body over mine with a groan, one hand tightening on my ass as he swept my hair aside with his other hand. His cock nudged at my opening and I parted my legs even wider, panting indelicately. His mouth dragged down the back of my neck producing a wake of delicious shivers.

“Logan,” I begged. “Now!”

He gave me what I wanted. Finally. Surging inside me, filling me so completely that I screamed, dropping my head to the desk. I felt stretched, impaled, the sensation a searing burn, hitting that spot, going deep, right past it and pushing at every nerve.

He groaned my name and kept going, pumping his hips, our bodies coming together with loud smacks in the echoing silence. “God, Georgia. I think you’re even tighter than last time.”

I cried out, every slam of his cock inside me propelling me forward on the desk and wringing out a cry from my lips. It was fast and hard and wild in a way that totally undid me.

I clutched the opposite edge of the desk and shoved back into him, meeting his thrusts halfway, determined to reach that climax he was pushing me toward.

My cries got louder.

“That’s it, baby,” he urged. “Come for me.”

I nodded and shook my head, frantic, wanting to get there, but also wanting to draw this out. Wanting the ache to keep building, the unbelievable friction of him to never stop.

“Georgia,” he commanded. “I need you to come now. I’m almost . . . there . . .”

I whimpered, my inner muscles instinctively clenching tighter around him.

“Georgia,” he said again.

The ragged sound of my name was followed then with a swift slap on my ass. I surged against him, my back making contact with his chest. It was all it took. I cried out and shuddered, splintering apart inside. My vision went fuzzy. The hard slide of him inside me coupled with that delicious sting made my mouth open on a silent scream.

I fell back down on the desk as he pumped one more time into me and then stilled. His hands clenched around my hips as he jerked a final time against me.

I gasped and shivered, never having felt this breathless even after racing sprints. It was truly the best sex of my life. Even better than the times before with him and somehow I knew that every time with him would be better.