Jodi Redford - The Seven Year Witch

His jaw still rigid, Logan swung open her door and leaned inside the Miata. Killing the engine, he yanked the keys from the ignition and pocketed them before tossing his helmet onto the passenger seat. Giving her no time to so much as blink, he hauled her into his arms and slammed his mouth over hers. The kiss contained enough smoldering anger to set her on fire. But there was also a degree of desperation too. She sensed it in the way he tunneled his fingers in her wind-whipped hair and hugged her close.

She hadn’t been with many men, and certainly none of them came remotely close to stirring these wildly chaotic feelings inside her like Logan did. He represented everything she’d run from her whole life. Wanting something—some one —with this kind of intensity was dangerous. Destructive to her entire being.

So why was she even considering this lunacy? She should walk away right now, before she became addicted to the taste of the forbidden.

As if he sensed the indecision warring inside her, Logan cradled her cheek in one hand and pulled back slightly. He looked into her eyes, his expression both fierce and tender. “Scare me like that again, and I’ll damn well spank you.”

And just like that, the forbidden ensnared her with wicked, sensual promise. Her breath hitched. Attempting to cover the telltale sign of her arousal, she glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You can lose the phony indignation, shug. I smell how soaked your panties are.”

One of the disadvantages of having a werewolf for a familiar—that damn nose of his. Not granting her long to stew in silence, he twined his fingers through hers and dragged her toward the entrance of his cottage. After fishing out his keys, he unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing her to precede him inside. The overhead star-shaped chandelier clicked on, raining soft prisms of light across the entry. She managed no more than two steps before Logan’s arms encircled her from behind, stalling her short. His lips settled on the sensitive juncture where her neck and jaw met at the exact moment his prominent erection nudged her ass. She gasped at the exquisite twin sensations.

He gave a deep, rumbling growl that tickled her skin. “This is one of the reasons I’ve always loved how tall you are—how perfectly we align. I could fuck you standin’ up, just like this.” His palms coasted to her hips and held her flush against him while his cock rode the seam of her jeans.

She bit her lip in an effort to stifle her moan. “Y-you’ve thought about fucking me like that?”

“I’ve thought about fuckin’ you every way imaginable, and several that haven’t been invented yet.”

Any lingering chance she might have possessed of walking away shriveled at his words. He’d never made any bones about the fact he lusted after her, but somehow feeling the murmured breath of his admission brush along her skin made it more real. Countless times she’d lain in her bed at night, her body on fire with need while Logan brought her to indescribable heights of pleasure in her mind. And his too, from the sound of it. Tonight, she would give in to the fantasy. If a week was all she had left, she was damn well going to wallow in every sinful moment Logan could give her.

Apparently sharing a similar sentiment, Logan slipped his hands beneath the hem of her shirt and caressed her abdomen. His palms were warm and strong and just a tiny bit calloused. Her tummy quivered in response, and he grazed his forefinger in a lazy circle around her bellybutton. “Slip off your top so I have more room to work.”

She must have hesitated a fraction too long, because Logan stopped tracing his distracting patterns across her skin. “Now, Rissa.”

The unmistakable authority in his tone elicited a strange shiver of excitement. Again, she decided it was better to hide her unexpected reaction. “You’re forgetting which one of us is boss.”

“In every other way, you claim rights to that title. But not when it comes to this.”

“So you think you get to be boss in the bedroom?”

“I don’t think. I know. Now ditch that top before I spank your ass.”

She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her pussy became even wetter. Damn. She shouldn’t like—much less be turned on by—this chauvinistic, caveman, alpha bullshit. But it didn’t stop her fingers from shaking with a forbidden thrill as they fumbled to remove her shirt.

Her disgruntled musings immediately shuffled to the back of her mind when Logan slid her bra straps down her arms. She swallowed as he unhooked the front clasp on the bra and peeled back its lacy white cups, revealing the beaded, rosy-pink tips of her breasts.

Logan stroked her nipples, earning her moan. “Tell me, darlin’, are these pretty little babies puckered because you’re anticipatin’ how warm your rump would feel after a few swats?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s chilly in here.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with being aroused at the idea of being spanked. Christ knows, I’m hard just imaginin’ you getting wetter and wetter each time my palm lands on your ass cheeks.”

The vivid imagery instilled by his seductive words created a sharp ache that seemed to begin at her nipples and coalesced into a persistent throb in her clit. She swayed, almost lightheaded from the undiluted excitement pumping through her bloodstream. An animalistic sound broke from Logan, and he swept her up into his arms. Rather than haul her in the direction of his bedroom as she’d expected, he crossed to the leather sectional in the living room. He lowered her onto her feet so she faced the arm of the couch, away from him. A rustling noise whispered behind her. She started to turn, but firm hands settled on her hips, holding her still.

“Stay.” Judging from the location of Logan’s gruff voice, he’d dropped to his knees.

“But—”

“Rissa.” The dangerous note of warning underscoring his tone provoked another of those delicious shivers. He reached around her for the zipper tab on her jeans and tugged it down. A millisecond later, her jeans followed suit, along with her sopping-wet panties.

“Lift your foot.”

She did, and Logan freed that leg from her tangle of clothing before assisting her with the other. Leaving her strappy heels in place, he caressed the backs of her thighs before kneading the globes of her ass. She didn’t stand a prayer of curbing her moan.

“Feel good, baby?”

She barely managed to squeak a “ Yes .” Sweet goddess, just the seductive glide of his hands was enough to melt her into a puddle of goo. How was she going to survive anything else he had in store for her?

“I’m gonna make it even better. Lean forward, across the arm of the couch.”

She was past balking at his commands. Why should she, when his touch and his gravelly voice promised everything she had never realized she desired? Craved. Stretching across the couch’s arm, she hugged the suede sofa pillow to her chest and closed her eyes. The scent of warm leather swam in her nose, mixed with the woodsy musk she always associated with Logan. He was everywhere at once. The phantom essence of him filled her nostrils, and the very real presence of his mouth suddenly pressed between her legs. She bit her lip, her cry muffled by the pillow as his tongue burrowed between her swollen labia.

The leisurely devouring he’d spoken of back at Tatum’s was nonexistent. Instead, he ate her with enough ravenous intensity to make her head spin. There was something decadently forbidden and naughty about being bent over a couch, naked except for a pair of high heels and being gorged on with more hungry relish than if she were the prime-rib special at the Boar’s Head.

His thumbs holding her wide open, Logan probed inside her channel, fucking her with his tongue. She squirmed and gasped, her greedy pussy clenching around the intruder.