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  • Home > Samantha Young > On Dublin Street Series > Moonlight on Nightingale Way (Page 72)     
    Moonlight on Nightingale Way(On Dublin Street #6)(72) by Samantha Young
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    “Whips? No. Tying you to a bed and knowing you trust me enough to be tied up while I do whatever I want to your body? Yes. Canes? No. Spanking you? Yes. St. Andrew’s crosses? No, a little too dramatic for my taste. Playing out sexual fantasies? Yes. Fucking you in every sexual position known to man, yes, yes, and yes.”

    I gaped up at him. “You may want to ease me into this very sexual frankness you have going on. I’m not used to it.”

    “You like it, or you would have walked out of my flat ages ago.” He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside, revealing his sculpted chest and strong arms. “Now take off your top before I rip it off.”

    I didn’t even dare to question that his threat was real. Logan MacLeod was Mr. Alpha in the bedroom, apparently. Although I’d enjoyed a good alpha in the fantasy of romantic books, I’d always thought I’d hate it in real life. But I was finding there was a balance. Logan wasn’t nearly so alpha outside his bedroom, but inside… Turned out that an alpha in the bedroom wasn’t nearly so scary as I’d thought. In fact, I found it really rather hot.

    I grabbed the hem of my sweater and pulled it up over my head, throwing it behind me as I lay back down on the bed. In answer, Logan put his knees on the bed at either side of my hips, straddling me so he could skim his hands up my waist to cup my breasts over my bra.

    I arched my back, pushing them into his hands. Logan kissed me, deep and hard, as he deftly unclipped my bra at the back. My hands traced every inch of his chest while we kissed, reluctantly letting go when he gently pushed me back on the bed and slipped my bra straps down my arms. His gaze drifted from my face to my naked breasts and the heat in them made my breasts swell, my nipples tightening. I wasn’t big chested like the women who had come before me, but under his heated gaze I no longer felt insecure about it.

    I could see it written all over his face: Logan liked me just the way I was.

    I felt that flutter in my lower belly and knew that if he slipped his hand between my legs he’d find me wet and ready for him.

    He touched me, cupping my breasts again, squeezing them gently, thumbs rubbing over my nipples as he deliberately stirred my arousal instead of shaking it. He was intent on teasing me and I was intent on letting him. His breathing grew heavier and I could feel the hard press of him through his jeans. Amusement sparkled within me as I realized he might break before me.

    Logan saw the look and his gaze darkened with tenderness and determination. I sighed at the gentle brush of his lips against first my right breast and then my left. He tormented me with whispered touches, trying to force me to beg, but despite my nails digging harder into the muscle in his shoulders, I held strong until my whimpers of need broke his will. He finally closed his mouth around my nipple, flicking his tongue over it, before sucking hard.

    A larger ripple moved through my belly, and I cried out softly, throwing my head back against the bed.

    Logan lavished attention on both nipples until they were swollen, until I was desperate for him. I cried out now, begging him, and he pulled back, easing off the bed to stand over me like some pagan sex god. The dark hunger in his eyes was my undoing.

    “Are you wet for me yet?”

    My lips parted at the shockingly stripped sexual question, and I felt my cheeks flush.

    Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you’re wet for me, Grace.”

    The demand only made me more so. “I’m wet for you,” I whispered.

    The muscle in his jaw clenched with determination as Logan leaned over to unzip my trousers. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of them and my underwear and he tugged. I lifted my lower body, and he removed them with quick ease. Once he’d divested me of them, gently caressing my calves and outer thighs, he lowered my legs and opened them as he glided his hands up my inner thighs. He put a knee to the bed and moved up my body so he could slip two thick fingers slowly inside my channel. My knees fell open and I gasped at the sensation. He pulled them almost all the way out, and I tilted my hips to meet them as he slid them back into me.

    “Logan,” I groaned, undulating against his touch. “Oh God, I need you.”

    His fingers disappeared, and I snapped my eyes open to watch him. He got off the bed, his jaw taut with dwindling control, and pulled a condom out of his jeans pocket before removing them and his boxers. I watched, every inch of me on fire, my inner thighs trembling, my breathing harried, as he rolled the condom up his huge straining cock.

    My legs fell open automatically as Logan lowered himself over my body, nudging against my center as his hard torso brushed against my breasts. He kissed me gently, trailing his fingertips up my outer thigh in a way that caused me more shivers and hot impatience.

    My hips jerked at the touch of his thumb on my clit, and he growled possessively from the back of his throat. And then he was kissing me, a series of wet and drugging kisses as he played with my clit. I touched him, too, caressing his shoulders, his back, his abs, strumming at his nipples in a way that made him shudder and press harder on my clit.

    When he slipped two fingers inside me again, I broke the kiss, moaning as my back arched into his caress.

    “You are so fucking sexy.” He peppered kisses along my jaw as he thrust his fingers in and out. “The things I’m going to do to you, babe. I’m going to make you mine, every single piece of you.” Our eyes locked, his filled with sexual promise. “No holds barred, Grace. Not with me. I’m going to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow, and you’re going to let me.”

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