Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(33)

My body felt as if it were about to combust as fire raced through my veins, and I was helpless to do anything except hold on and hope I survived.

Logan tightened his hold, and even though he sat while I stood, he lifted me with ease until my legs were settled on either side of him, straddling his body. The chair groaned under us, the giant warlock already overflowing around it, but it didn’t collapse.

I rocked my pantie-clad core against his hard length. The black sweats he wore did little to hide his need, and I had no doubt that I was dripping for him.

Our lips met in a searing kiss. He didn’t wait for me to open, demanding entrance as he stroked his tongue across mine. He kissed me like a dying man seeking his last breath, and I was swept up until I forgot everything else in existence.

It was just Logan and me.

Surrounded by his scent, his hands slid up and down my back and I rocked against his cock, desperately seeking friction to ease the ache. “I missed you,” I groaned, unable to keep my feelings locked down. Even knowing how much power I’d just given to him, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

A rumble rocked Logan’s chest, and his hold grew firmer, the smallest bite against my skin. Marking me as his. “If you knew what I wanted to do with you, Precious,” he growled against my neck, breathing me in, the tip of his nose tracing across the bare skin and up to the shell of my ear, “you’d be running from this room.”

When my tongue darted out to taste his skin, his spicy energy shattered across my tongue. My teeth pressed against his throat, and I moaned at the hint of his blood. I’d broken the skin, and all I wanted to do was press harder. Taste more. Devour this warlock.

He rumbled again, standing so fast that I would have fallen if his arms weren’t banded around me. His lips crashed against mine, flooding my system with his taste once more. The hint of metallic from the blood had me gasping as he kissed me harder.

“Precious,” he groaned, his teeth scraping down my throat, adding more marks. “I can’t be gentle tonight.”

Threading my fingers into his hair, I yanked his head back. “I don’t want gentle. I need you to fuck me, Logan. Please.”

His growl was animalistic, and if I hadn’t been completely out of my mind with need, I might have worried that I’d pushed him too far. His cleverly cultivated cloak of civility—alliteration be damned—had finally snapped, and I got the true power of this spellcaster.

He threw me onto the bed, and before I bounced once, his fingers were in the sides of my panties, tearing them from my body. My flimsy tank top was gone in my next gasp, and I was breathlessly naked . . . and desperately horny.

Shifting myself up on one arm, I used the other to grab his hoodie, yanking it up so I could touch the hard muscles below. Logan reached over his head and, in that sexy way men loved to get undressed, yanked the offending material off to leave his top half gloriously bare.

His sweats were shucked in a similar manner, and as he stalked me across the bed, I forgot how to breathe. Autonomic nervous system or not, it was failing in its involuntary responses.

I’d seen Logan naked before, but this felt like the first time.

When he crawled on top of me, I ran my hands across his broad chest, which was covered in jewel-toned creatures and black-and-white symbols. I wanted to touch and taste every inch of him. Especially those hard, thick inches hanging between his muscled thighs.

A witch needed to write sonnets about his perfect cock, the swollen head glistening with his arousal.

“If you keep looking at me like that, baby,” Logan groaned, “I’m going to embarrass myself.”

A brief burst of laughter escaped me at the thought of this powerful, confident warlock losing control. It was hard to believe that I could do that to him, and yet the evidence was clear. An inferno burned in his gaze.

“Paisley,” he warned again, and my laughter turned to moans as he pressed down until his huge body covered mine. The feel of his skin against mine, his hard lines crushing my softer frame, was worthy of the second sonnet of the night.

I’d be a fucking poet by the time Logan was done with me.

He kissed me slower this time, drawing my lower lip into his mouth and between his teeth. The slow pace didn’t last long as urgency overtook us both. “Hold on, baby,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”

Digging my nails into his back, I did exactly as I was told and held on to him. Logan thrusted forward, the thick head of his cock sliding through my slick heat. My pussy was so wet that my arousal seeped down my ass and onto the sheets, but there was no readying myself for Logan’s size. He thrust again, and the burning stretch was deliciously painful.

“That’s my good girl,” he crooned, giving me not even a chance to adjust. His gaze devoured me, and I was completely lost. “You take me so well. You were made for me, Paisley. Absolutely perfect.”

The praise had my walls clenching around him, and as he started to slam into me, my cries were too loud and I pressed my hand over my mouth. The dorms were not fully soundproofed, and the last thing I wanted was for my screams to bring an audience. Logan’s mouth replaced my hand as he kissed and fucked me into the most intense orgasm that stole my air and ability to even scream. I soundlessly cried out, losing all sense of reality.

If I’d had full access to my magic, I’d have released every monster in the planes of existence with my complete loss of control.