Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (36 page)

A sharp exhale fell against her cheek before the thickness of his tongue filled the gap and his eyes slid shut. Growls vibrated inside his mouth. Like caramel melting against her tongue, his taste was so sweet, his lips tight but smooth.

“I need your hands on me, Calla,” he croaked. “I’m about to snap. Shit’s got me so strung out right now.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, allowing a better view of his bare chest beneath. Dark tattoos bled into the deep grooves of his hardened muscles. A fighter’s body. The sprays of blood from earlier had dried, a red contrast to the tiny white lines across his exposed abdomen that caught her eye—lines she hadn’t noticed before, like scars, marring his otherwise flawless skin.

Words flashed through Calla’s head like a marquee … or a warning.

Male. Powerful. Raw. Dangerous.

She set her palm against his chest, and his damaged but soft skin passed beneath her tracing fingertips—so strong, like iron wrapped in velvet.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, fascinated by the ridges of his muscles where her fingertips dipped.

He reached up, capturing the back of her head, and pulled her into his kiss while his other hand still gripped her thigh. His thumb rubbed her nape at the same time he squeezed tighter, sealing his lips to hers.

In the library, he’d kissed her the same way, his body restless, hands exploring. Thrilling. Passionate.

His breath hitched and it occurred to Calla that, in all of her petting, she’d found the protrusion in his pants, the juncture between his thighs. Her hand slid along the stiffness.
Jesus
. The enormous erection reached his stomach.

She caught a glimpse of his eyes, beseeching, but without the demand she’d come to know from her sickening trysts with Wade.

Something about Logan made her
want
to touch him. For all the ferocity and power the male possessed, he seemed reluctant to breach her boundaries.

As an odd sense of control washed through her, curiosity had her hands slipping lower.

* * *

Logan threw his head back and dug his fingers into the leather seat until he could feel the seams pop beneath his hands.
Ah, shit.

Nothing could have prepared him for the fire that burned beneath his skin the moment her hands made contact. He should’ve known it’d feel good. Real fucking good.

Her curious caresses along his shaft had him on edge.
Harder.

Like an answered prayer, she squeezed, and Logan came right off the seat.

As though she knew exactly how to touch him.

Or he was just so goddamn buzzed by her touch that he could’ve gotten off to a wave of her hands too close to his cock.

At the same time, she had his stomach twisted in knots.

Sliding up from beneath her, he straightened himself, his pulse so erratic it made him dizzy while sitting. He took deep breaths like a fucking pansy.

Her hand skated up his thigh and he exhaled a sharp breath, those fingertips like magic wands, rendering him spellbound.

Fuck, what did he want?

Her
, but he’d gotten himself off enough times to know it never ended well. The final release required something that would leave a good girl like Calla feeling repulsed.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Logan?” Her voice cut through the haze.

What to say to her?

Hey could you dig your heel into my balls while you do this?

Christ, Calla would take one look at him and run. As she should.

The beast inside of him had awakened once more. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

The raise of her brow goaded an explanation and had him traipsing that fine line between asshole and nice guy again.

Her eyes fell to his erection damn near crawling out of his pants and he sucked in a breath, knowing
Good Idea
flashed in bold print like a bulletin board across his zipper.

“Calla—”

Her lips intercepted his desperate need for air.

So good
.

For a male who, just two days ago, could’ve given a shit about kissing, he’d suddenly developed a newfound appreciation for it.

He settled back against the leather seat, pulling her with him, and every thought in his head turned to a black void.

Nothing.

Only that moment.

Every female before Calla fell into the blackness, taking the visions of pain with them. Like a tranquilizer to the dark shadows scratching at his conscience, her taste and scent forced the beast inside of him back into its slumber.

He tangled his hands in her hair as that scent penetrated his thoughts.

Calla
.

Gripping tight to her ass, he seated her against the stiffness in his jeans. Smooth, leather passed beneath his fingertips as he dug into her muscles.

Take her
. The voice taunted him from inside.

He pressed her tight against him and circled his hips beneath her, while visions of being buried deep inside of her teased his mind.

She let out a quiet moan that kicked his raging beast into overdrive.

“Have to … touch.” Gods, he wanted to rip her shirt apart to see those beautiful, rounded breasts he’d once held in his palms.

Releasing her hair, Logan frantically unfastened her jacket and wormed his hands beneath her T-shirt, along her tight stomach to the soft mounds slung high in her bra. He peeled back the lace and ran his thumbs across her small but hardened nipples, the fullness of her breasts filling his palms.

Her mouth parted against his. “Logan,” she whispered. “Oh, God … I’m … so sensitive …”

He lifted his head to capture those lips once more, and pressure mounted with each grind of her hips as she kissed him into a stupor.

He’d never had so many senses igniting at the same time: citrus swarming his head, her nails digging into his chest, the taste of her on his tongue, fire in her thighs where they vised against his legs. It scrambled his brain.

“Jesus, Calla, what are you doing to me?” he rasped.

Her hand slipped between them, and the sound of his zipper halted his movements. Hands covering hers, he resisted the nudge.

Calla gave a silent stare, like she was suddenly embarrassed for having tried to get in his pants.

Reluctantly, he raised his hips and shoved his jeans down his thighs. Christ, the
last
thing he wanted was for her to feel bad about touching him.

He would’ve told her to stop, that she didn’t have to do anything for him, but the gentleman somewhere deep inside of him cowered like a pussy—because Logan’s dick would’ve punished him for uttering a single protest.

He
needed
to know.

Calla’s soft palm stoked his length, and his chest clenched. “Are you always … so
big
?” she asked, straightening and staring down at his erection, wide-eyed.

Logan stemmed a smile and opened his eyes. “For you? Yes.”

Her strokes hastened. The way she touched him didn’t feel like a female who’d handled cock all her life. An awkward hesitation told him she’d not done it much at all, which suited Logan just fine—nothing like getting the last limp-dick’s prescription for a hand-job.

Besides, didn’t matter to Logan
how
she touched him, just that she did.

As one hand stroked, the other went exploring deep inside his boxers, and when she found his balls, Logan hissed.

Holy fuck
. Had a female ever handled them that way? If one had, it sure as hell didn’t feel
that
good. Her fingers and hands were everywhere down there and he jerked with every sensitive spot she hit like a marksman striking the bulls-eye.

Steady strokes quickened, as if she could read his mind, or some shit. Up and down at the same time as she fondled his swelling nuts.

His heavy breathing and moans filled the car.

So close
. His blood heated beneath his skin. Muscles pulled so taut she could probably break him in half if she wanted.

He released her thighs, afraid he might leave a bruise, or worse, and braced his hands against what little of the seat he could grab. He lifted his head, chin digging into his collarbone in his strain to keep from coming.

Seams popped as his fingers dug into the leather seat. His breaths arrived in pulses, and hitched with each inhale, as if too much oxygen would stamp out the flames in his muscles.

He trembled, squeezed his thighs together, lifting his ass right off the seat.

Fuck. Fuck.

Heels dragging across the back.

Blood trickling from the wounds.

A blade gouging his thigh.

If he couldn’t physically feel the pain, he’d summon memories of it. His body shuddered with the anticipation.

Whether she knew to, or not, Calla gave a hard squeeze that sent his hips thrusting upward.

Done.

He bellowed another curse.

Over and over, his body burst like some kind of cock-rocking supernova. Stars exploded behind his eyes, tunnel walls passed before him, once, twice, as if he’d spun out. His dick pulsed in her grasp and she clung to the rising and falling of his hips as he rode out the orgasm.

Holy cock-stroking gods of mercy
.

To hell with drugs. No drug he’d ever taken in all his life had even come close to the high rushing through his veins.

Warmth spread across his thigh. A bowl of jiggling gelatin had more muscle control than he did at that moment. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Wanted to stay in the moment for as long as he could drag it out.

He smiled and threw his hands to his face, basking in the rush that spread through his body. “Holy sh—”

Logan tipped his head forward. The stars behind his eyes faded into focus.

A small amount of his
seed
had spilled onto his stomach.

What the fuck?
He came? Actually
came
from that?

He wanted to ask her how, but most females expected a male to come, which would leave him open to explaining why he
shouldn’t
have.

Instead, he reveled in the release.

Her touch. Something in those fingertips held a dark and wicked magic—virgin, or not, the female had powers of seduction that would put a seasoned whore out of business. If her hands could do that, Logan could only imagine what being
inside
of her would feel like.

“Are you okay?” she asked, as if seeking approval.

He smiled at the sound of her voice. “Straight as a motherfucker.”

Logan lifted his head to see that face, the beauty who’d undone him—the innocent blue eyes and those long blond locks, all of which, he’d already decided, were designed to ruin him.

Ruined.

He’d never want another female after her.

Calla remained on his lap, her eyes appraising him.

Gods, she was beautiful.

He dragged her face to his lips and captured that warm, silky tongue.

Insatiable. Her scent had his body primed for round two. “I need to taste you, Calla. I need to make you feel what you just did to me. But I won’t do it here. I’m taking you back to my bed, where I can relish you all night.”

Logan had spent years giving pleasure to women for reasons he couldn’t understand. For the first time, he knew exactly why he wanted to pleasure the one before him.

Her fingers drifted across his nape, casting a shiver through his ragged-out muscles, and she kissed his cheek. “You make me feel safe.” She rested her head on his shoulder, slipping her hand inside his mussed shirt. “Everything about you is dangerous. And gentle at the same time.”

He breathed a laugh against her neck. “Don’t tell my brothers. They’d give me shit for that.” Rubbing his thumb against her lips, he lifted her chin for a kiss. “I want you to stay with me tonight,” he said against her mouth.

Her eyes cast downward, but she nodded. “Tonight.”

As she slipped off his lap into the passenger seat, Logan straightened himself up and fired up the McLaren.

One night.

To make the female scream his name.

Damn if he was going to waste any more time.

CHAPTER 29

Anticipation burned inside of Logan as he made his way to the passenger side of the McLaren and helped Calla out of the car.