Page 112 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

His hands pushed my thighs wider as he slid all the way in until he was seated deep inside me. My pussy squeezed him in response.

“Fuck,” he huffed. “You’re always so tight.” Itwasa tight fit, every time. He was just a little bit too big, but the feeling of him was the best I ever had.

He slowly withdrew again, his face burying into my neck as his hand slid between us, beginning to work my clit.

Logan took deep, shuddering breaths against my skin as he fucked into me, my moans joining the sound of him moving in and out of me.

“I’m so close,” I gasped. “Please.”

He pulled up, somehow continuing his perfect rhythm as he pushed his jersey up over my breasts. His green eyes were blazing as he stared down at me.

“Come for me, baby. Choke my cock,” he swore roughly as he bent over and licked at my nipple.

That was it. I came hard, my whole body shaking as searing pleasure rushed through me.

“Yes,” he growled, his lips moving to my mouth as his pace picked up.

“One more.”

I wasn’t sure that I ever came down from the orgasm. His dick slid against the perfect spots inside me, over and over again, making my climax more of a never-ending, rolling wave.

“Logan,” I hissed, my hands reaching up and tangling in his hair as I kissed him over and over, feeling like I might die from how good the pleasure felt.

He jerked against me, groaning as his rhythm faltered. He came with a strangled moan, his cum filling me in hot bursts, on and on until it was dripping out, wetting my thighs and the bed underneath us.

His big body surrounded me as he continued to slowly move in and out, both of us gasping at the sensations.

“It gets better every time,” I murmured, an edge of wonder to my voice.

“It’s because we were made for each other. Twin souls, Red. I think I’ve been looking for you my whole life, and it’s like I can breathe now, because you’re finally here.”

A tear slid down my face as I gazed up at him.

“How did we get here?”

He brushed a kiss against my lips before he licked up my tear. “Luck, I guess.”

I blinked at that idea. I’d considered myself unlucky my entire life.

But suddenly, I wondered if he was right.

Because anyone who had Logan York telling them he loved them had to be at least a little lucky.

Right?

* * *

LOGAN

The sunlight streaming through the shades sliced through my pounding head like a knife, pulling me out of a restless, alcohol-soaked sleep. My mouth was dry, my body aching in a way that wasn’t just from the Stanley Cup Finals. My dick had been some kind of superhero last night—I’d fucked Sloane for hours after we’d gotten back.

I groaned, dragging a hand over my face and squinting against the brightness. Sloane was still asleep next to me, her body half-wrapped in the sheet, her dark hair spilling across the pillow. She looked peaceful, her lips slightly parted. My dick twitched as I stared at her, but I held myself back. No doubt she was going to feel like I did when she woke up, so it was good to let her sleep as long as possible.

Carefully, I pushed myself out of bed, every muscle protesting as I stumbled toward the bathroom. The tiles were cold against my bare feet, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from my skin. I flicked on the light, immediately regretting the blinding brightness, and turned the shower knob. Even the sound of water sputtering on was almost too loud. Fuck. This was going to be a fun day.

I dropped my briefs, ready to step into the shower, when something in the mirror caught my attention. A smear of color. Red.

I froze, leaning closer to inspect the reflection. It wasn’t just red—it was the unmistakable imprint of lips. Bright, perfect, and a fucking sexy souvenir from the night before.

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