Page 78 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

Filling me with all the pressure and heat I needed.

“Gonna come.” Some distant part of me was embarrassed that he could ply me this easily.

The rest? So fucking grateful.

Before yesterday, it had been so damn long since I’d gone flying like this. Since he’d made me fly.

Always Alex.

I was up and over before he had a chance to respond. His hand dropped away from my mouth at the exact moment I crashed into my orgasm, as if he wanted the sounds I made broadcast to the world. Whatever world was out here in Logan’s slice of the wilderness anyway.

Hopefully, no one.

“That’s my duchess.” The rumble of his chest against mine only prolonged the aftershocks. That, and the endless sweeps of his calloused thumb over my clit. If he didn’t stop…

“God, don’t stop.” That wasn’t me, sounding so dazed and hungry. Still. Always. I’d just come, and I wasn’t normally someone who had multiples.

Then again, I didn’t usually have focused sapphire eyes pinning me in place while I sought that not-so-elusive peak either.

Before I could finish that climb again, he yanked his hand away and spun me around in the water. I slipped on the wet rocks and would’ve surely slid onto my ass if he hadn’t caught me around the waist and lifted me just enough to wedge his cock between my thighs. He gave me a minute to prepare, to dip back my head and haul in a breath. Then he was driving upward and entering me in one long, deep thrust.

I couldn’t even kid myself that I didn’t scream. My shock at how he could be so cold from the water and so hot at the same time—and so goddamn hard when hypothermia was a near thing—demanded to be heard. He let me scream it out, finally chuckling at the end when my scream kind of changed into a moan-slash-whimper-slash-laugh.

How was this happening again?

“That one’s my favorite,” he said against my neck, barely audible above the slap of our bodies and the water bubbling and rushing around us. “Can’t decide if you want to laugh or cry or moan, love?” I squeezed down on him and he groaned, long and low and lovely in my ear. “Vengeful wench.”

“You don’t know the half.” I reached down between my legs to where he was buried inside me from behind. What I could see stole my breath. It was obscene and erotic and beautiful, all at once.

Almost like us.

I angled forward, trusting he had a good hold on me, and skimmed my fingertips over as much of his length as I could touch. He swore an Irish-flavored blue streak that made me laugh despite his renewed desire to fuck me unconscious.

He shifted his grip and managed to grasp one of my breasts. My nipple might as well have been directly linked to my clit with every brutal twist of his fingers. His teeth scraped the side of my throat and he just kept on stroking in and out, the rhythm as relentless as the water moving around us. Flowing down from the top of the waterfall then sliding down, down, down.

Just like me.

I was floating away, lost to the effortless beat of him hammering into me. Each thrust was just this side of pain, and I wanted it. Loved it.

“Harder,” I whispered. “More.”

Nothing could be enough.

“Greedy duchess. But I aim to please.” He slid his arm up between my breasts and gripped my neck hard enough to bruise. I didn’t mind it. Even the slight loss of breath, the rawness of my throat when I tried to swallow a

nd drag in oxygen, the feeling that maybe, just maybe he’d never let me go…

All of it turned me on more.

As soon as he drew out of me, I turned around and jumped up to wind my legs around his hips. He stared up at me, clearly surprised I’d taken charge. “I’m not one of your predictable women.”

I didn’t know where that had come from. But if he could make up phantom relationships between Logan and I, I could imagine him with the nameless, faceless chicks he’d probably bedded while working in the studio. Slipped into as easily as if they’d been lovers for a lifetime before he vanished into the ether.

Just like he’d done with me three years ago.

He fisted a handful of my damp hair and tugged my head until our eyes were even. “I don’t have any other women.” And he entered me in one smooth, silky stroke.

My heart pounded in my ears as I gripped his stupidly broad shoulders to try to balance myself. I tried to speak. Gave up.

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