Page 144 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

My words didn’t have the intended effect that they should have because of the breathiness in my voice that I was sure told him all he needed to know. He was still hovering above me, and I couldn’t get myself to look away and break the spell.

The paintbrush was still pressing into my skin, and I suddenly yanked it away, reaching up and painting a streak of red across his face.

Logan didn’t bother trying to get the brush back; he wiped his hand through the paints on the palette and then streaked it across my chest, groping my breasts while he did it. Of course.

“That’s not playing fair,” I said, my voice half moaning as I streaked red across his lips this time.

As soon as I moved the brush, his lips were on me, smearing the red between us. I could taste some of the paint on my tongue—probably not great for my health.

But everything else about Logan was.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, long, aggressive licks that had my core clenching.

He pulled away, breathing hard as he stared at my face, and then my chest, his dark gaze raking over my breasts. My skin felt flushed and tight.

With his paint-streaked hand, he once again dragged his palm over my breasts before he suddenly shoved a hand under my back, pulling me up and onto his lap. I clung to him, the paintbrush clattering to the wood floor as I straddled him.

“Logan,” I whimpered, my bare ass on his denim-covered thighs. I watched as he dipped his fingers into the paint once again, stroking the paint across my face as he stared at me intensely.

“Fuck me,” I begged, and his grin was like a flame flickering to life in the darkness. I wanted to live in it. His hands tangled in my hair, and he groaned as his lips claimed mine once again, our mouths and tongues tangling together.

He reached between us with one hand, undoing his jeans and pulling out his cock, fisting it slowly as he continued to devour my mouth.

“You want my big dick so bad, don’t you?” he growled, biting down on my lip, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

“Yes,” I moaned, replacing his hand with my own as I lifted up and rubbed his tip against my clit. Sparks of pleasure heated my core.

It wasn’t enough, though. Nothing would be enough but him inside me.

“Beg me for it.”

Mmm. This was new. I was definitely going to add this to the list of things that I liked.

I pulled back, shifting my hips as his hands curved to my back and then down to my ass, squeezing it and pushing me against his cock.

“I’m waiting,” he said roughly.

My hands moved back to his shoulders, gripping them as I rubbed myself up and down his length.

“Please, baby. I need you inside me,” I begged.

I was dripping wet, soaking his cock as it moved through my folds.

It felt so fucking perfect.

“Yes, that’s it. Use me. Get what you need,” he murmured, pressing another bruising kiss against my lips. The light was fading in the room, catching on the perfect planes of his face.

“How badly do you need me?” he said silkily, maintaining much more control than I was capable of at the moment. His dick was rubbing perfectly against my clit, and my head dropped to his chest.

“I want you more than anything. Please, Logan, please,” I moaned, my fingers digging into his skin as I tried to sit up higher so that I could have him.

The bastard laughed. “My poor impatient girl. Do you need me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

His mouth moved against my ear, his tongue tracing the edge and sending shivers racing down my skin. “Please,” I whispered again.

“As you wish,” he breathed, his voice finally thick with the arousal I was feeling.

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