The Billionaire's Intern - Part 4

“What are you in the mood for, then?” She wanted his attention. Wanted him to look at her. Wanted to acknowledge that he’d come after her because he needed her.

He forked his fingers through her hair and drew her backward so that she was lying down on the seat, her legs spread, her dress falling up to her hips. “This,” he said, looking at her, his eyes hungry.

“Missionary position? Daring.”

“Be quiet,” he said.

She closed her mouth, her attention rapt on him. On what he would do next. Say next. She was fascinated, by him, and by the need he wasn’t doing anything to disguise.

Her heart was pounding, her mouth dry. He did need her.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and dragged them down her thighs. “You want me to lose my control? You want me to be the animal you know I am? Then you have to feed my appetite.” He leaned in, pushing her legs apart with his broad shoulders. “Right now I just want more of your sugar.”

He leaned down, his breath hot on her body. He slid his tongue over her slick flesh, pleasure streaking through her. This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t him out of control. Wasn’t Logan, the animal, freeing them both in a violent storm of desire.

This wasn’t their nonstop, intense version of pleasure that stole her breath and hollowed out her stomach. This was slow and slick, deliberate. There was no adrenaline to blunt the need, no bite of the rug beneath her back to give her a bit of herself back.

This was a deliberate claiming of her body, of her control.

And he didn’t relent.

He tasted her long and deep, leisurely strokes of his tongue across her wet flesh. She lifted her hips, pressing herself harder against his mouth, the rush it sent through her making her feel dizzy. Breathless.

It should have been served up in a shot glass so she could knock it back fast. But he wasn’t playing that way. He didn’t stop. He went harder, deeper. Sliding a finger inside her, teasing her with his mouth and hands now.

“Logan…”

She wanted to beg him. To be hard. To be rough. To make it fast so she didn’t linger here, with all the emotions that were pushing against the barricades around her heart. She wanted him to overwhelm her with the physical so she couldn’t dwell on the deep ache of emotion radiating out from her heart.

He added a second finger, teasing her with his tongue as he thrust deep inside her. Her stomach clenched tight, her muscles tensing. She could breathe. Couldn’t think. She was sure she was going to break apart. Sure she couldn’t survive this.

He pressed his lips against her and sucked hard, the action splintering the tension, breaking it off into pieces that she was sure she could never put back together, rivers of pleasure rushing through the cracks, filling her, moving through her in waves.

She was breathing hard, utterly spent and exhausted, her forehead damp with sweat. He leaned forward and pressed the intercom again. “Keep driving until I say stop,” he said, moving his hand away, bringing his attention back to her. “I won’t have anything interrupting me.”

He reached down, undoing the closure on his pants, freeing his hard erection before reaching into his pocket and producing his wallet.

He quickly rolled a condom on and moved back to her, teasing the entrance to her body with the blunt head of his erection. He gripped her hips and pulled her forward, his thick length entering her slowly, inch by agonizing inch. He was still fully clothed, his tie tight, knotted at the base of his throat, even while he was buried in her to the hilt.

He pulled away and thrust back into her, hard, pulling her against him as he moved to her. She looked up at him, his blue eyes blazing into hers, his cock hard inside her, his hands firm on her body. It was too much. She closed her eyes and turned her head away. He leaned in, gripping her chin, his gloved fingers digging into her skin. “Look at me, Addison. I will not allow you to pretend it’s another man inside you. I will not allow you to wish me away. I’m the man you said you wanted. This is me. With nothing, no control, no civility. With all my sins. All my sickness. You wanted me to be this, to uncover this. And you’ll know that I’m the man who’s having you.”

She opened her eyes again, looked at him. “I don’t want anyone else,” she said, her words a gasp.

“Say it again.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” she repeated, steadier this time.

“My name.”

“Logan, I don’t want anyone else.”

He froze above her, his erection pulsing inside her, the tendons on his neck standing out as he gave himself over to his own pleasure. The sight of that, of this powerful man, covered in the markings of civilization, giving himself over wholly to the beast inside her, sent her over the edge, her own climax tearing through her as he spent himself inside her.

He moved away from her, tugging off the condom and shoving it into the small trash compartment built into the limo. Then he tucked himself back into his pants. And the feral, dangerous man was gone.

At least, some people would think so.

But she knew better.

Of course, she was still lying on her back recovering from two hard orgasms in a row, her panties Lord knew where in the car.

She sat up, her head spinning.

“You will not leave me again,” he said, his voice hard. Grim. Betraying more of what he felt than anything that had come before it.

“I won’t,” she said.

And she knew, right then, that she’d made a much deeper pact in her soul than she’d spoken with words.

Chapter Fourteen

For the first time in four years, putting on shoes had been easy that morning.

And the way a day was going to go always started with shoes.

So as days went, he was already feeling much more optimistic than usual.

Add to that, he’d woken up next to Addison. In bed. He hadn’t slept in a bed all through the night since before the island.

Which had maybe helped with the shoes. It had certainly increased the feeling of satisfaction, the feeling of certainty that was running deep inside him.

It was such a foreign feeling. The ground seemed solid, rather than a shifting, turning wave beneath his feet.

He stood from behind his desk and tugged back the curtain, looking down at the street below. Nothing tilted. His head didn’t swim.

Either he was more in control of himself, or Addison’s touch had gone a long way toward healing him. Potentially both.

Last night had been perfect. In that messed-up way perfection seemed to take shape in his life.

She’d come back with him. He’d gone out and gotten her, and she’d come back with him.

She’d seen all of him. Every sick piece of himself. Every dark, twisted secret that lurked in the corners of his soul.

If he even had a soul. That was up for debate.

But he wasn’t all that concerned with semantics. The fact was, he had Addison with him. Last night…last night he’d lost control in her…and gained some outside of that. He’d gone out. He’d gone after her. He’d held himself together.

And when the sun rose this morning, it hadn’t dissolved.