Logan pulled nearly all the way out before he drove back again.
My thighs shook.
I felt him like an avalanche.
A rolling of bliss.
An undulation of possession.
“Mine,” he grated.
It was grit.
Gravel.
A claim.
The truth that I had always been.
“Tell me,” I demanded back.
Our gazes tangled in the reflection.
He banded one arm across my stomach, and the other splayed wide while it slowly traveled up my abdomen and chest until he was holding me by the front of the throat.
His hand curled there, pulling me up and forcing me to lean my weight against him, and his mouth came to my ear. “I’m yours, Aster. Fucking yours, and I’m always going to be, and I won’t stop until that truth is your peace.”
He bent his knees and thrust into me again.
A cry jolted from my lungs.
“That’s right, Little Star. Feel what I do to this sweet body.”
“I feel everything.”
Logan growled and took me harder. “I love you, Aster Rose.”
He stepped back, and he pressed his hand to the back of my neck so he could bend me over.
My hands shot back out to hold onto the mirror as he began to pound into me from behind.
He was so big as he filled me again and again.
Overpowering.
Overwhelming.
“Your pussy is perfect, Aster. The way you fit me. Nothing has ever felt better.”
Pleasure gathered like the same storm that had brewed in his eyes.
Whimpers ripped from my throat with each relentless drive of his body.
“It’s mine, Little Star. All of you.”
He reached around and pressed his thumb into my mouth, making me suck, before he withdrew it and began to swirl it around my puckered hole.
Sensation raced.