Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha novel Chapter 48

Chapter 48: Pheromones Peak

Logan responds instantly, a low growl rumbling through his chest. His hands tighten on me, one tangling in my hair while the other grips my hip, pulling me closer. The kiss is fierce, desperate, as if we’re both trying to devour each other whole.

I lose myself in the sensation, my world narrowing to the points where our bodies connect. Logan’s tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, seeking entrance, and I grant it without hesitation. As our tongues tangle, heat blooms, spreading through my body like wildfire.

Logan’s hand at my hip slides under my shirt, his calloused fingers leaving trails of heat against my skin. I arch into his touch, craving more. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along my jaw and down my neck. When he reaches the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, he pauses, his breath hot against my skin.

"Nicole," he murmurs, my name a reverent prayer. Or maybe a seductive invitation to the depths of hell. "Are you sure?"

Oh, yeah. That’s a seductive invitation. There’s nothing chaste or virginal about this moment.

Not in that husky voice, or in the fire blazing between my legs.

Am I sure? No. I’m not sure of anything right now, except that I need him. Need this. Want this, consequences be damned.

I’m not thinking straight, and I know it. But I just don’t give a fuck.

I nod, not trusting my voice. Reason might be all, "Oh, no, we shouldn’t do this." If those words come out of my mouth...

Yeah. I might just combust on the spot.

Logan doesn’t hesitate. His lips return to my neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. I tilt my head, giving him better access, and he takes full advantage. His teeth graze my pulse point before he latches on to suck hard, and a moan escapes me.

His hand travels higher under my shirt, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast. Even through my bra, the touch sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me. I arch into him, silently begging for more.

Logan obliges, cupping my breast fully. His thumb circles my nipple through the fabric, then yanks the cup down to twist and fiddle with my nipples, leaving me moaning.

In some sort of athletic, gymnastic, something-tastic movement, he shoves me against the back of my seat and has it recline in a smooth motion. The cramped confines don’t seem to bother him as he kneels between my thighs, shoving my shirt up to nip at my left breast, before pulling my nipple into his mouth and suckling hard.

My hips buck at the sensation, and my own hands aren’t idle. I run them over his broad shoulders, down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. When I reach the hem, I slip my hands underneath, desperate to feel his skin against mine.

Logan groans at the contact, the sound vibrating through me and settling low in my belly. His hand leaves my breast, trailing down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans. He pauses there, his fingers playing with the button.

"Please," I beg, not caring about propriety in the least.

I just want more.

That single word seems to break the last of Logan’s restraint. He makes quick work of the button and zipper, his hand slipping inside my jeans and beneath my underwear, rumbling in approval when he can feel how wet they are.

When his fingers find my center, we both moan at the contact.

"So wet," Logan growls, his voice rough with desire. "All for me." fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

I can only whimper in response as he begins to move his fingers, circling my most sensitive spot with maddening precision. My hips buck against his hand, seeking more friction.

Logan’s mouth returns to my breasts, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin as his fingers work their magic. The dual sensation is overwhelming, pleasure building rapidly within me. I’m dimly aware that we’re still in his car, parked on the side of the road, but I can’t bring myself to care.

My world narrows to Logan—his scent surrounding me, his body pressed against mine, his fingers bringing me closer and closer to the edge. I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as the tension builds.

"That’s it," Logan murmurs against my skin. "Let go for me, Nicole."

His words, combined with a particularly skilled movement of his fingers, send me over the edge. Pleasure crashes over me in waves, my body arching and trembling in Logan’s arms. He holds me through it, his touch gentling as he guides me through the aftershocks.

As I come down from my high, reality starts to seep back in. We’re in Logan’s car. On the side of the road. I just had an earth-shattering orgasm. In his car.

What am I doing? I don’t know. I just know that I feel terrible, and now that he’s being so distant and his pheromones are gone, there’s a deep empty ache inside of me.

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