Stud for Hire by Sabrina York Page A

“Don’t.”
    The last thing she wanted right now was gentle. She wanted wild and crazed. She wanted a storm of passion.
    â€œDon’t?”
    â€œFuck me, Logan.” A whisper. “Fuck me hard.”
    As though her desperate plea had unlocked the iron will caging him, he pulled out and lunged. Hard.
    Her body seized as rivulets of exquisite pleasure snarled through her. It was not a tame sensation. It was wild. Feral. “Yes.”
    â€œYou want it like this?” he grunted.
    â€œYes.” And, when he plunged again, harder, deeper, “Yes, yes!”
    This launched him into a manic frenzy, whipping in and out of her with a zeal she could only describe as gentle fury. He took hold of her thighs and lifted her, shifting his position so he could come at her from this direction and that, each foray more thrilling than the last.
    Something inside her knotted, constricting with each thrust.
    His pace increased. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. His features tautened. “Hanna,” he gasped.
    She lifted her hips higher, thrusting up into him like a wild creature, urging him on, meeting him and matching him with each and every plunge.
    The tightness became a flutter, the flutter a ripple. The ripple a wave.
    Exquisite delight slammed into her, through her, and into him.
    Her body clenched, seized around him. He wheezed a plea and bent his head to draw sharply on one nipple, and then the other.
    It was the nip that did her in, took her, drove her over the edge.
    Sanity flew.
    Bliss rained down on her.
    He’d brought her to a sweet peak several times today, but nothing compared with this . . . this completeness. As though, for once in her life, her soul had been gently caressed, and fed to satiety.
    He continued moving, even as she imploded, though his lunges devolved into short, hard thrusts as he lost hold on his reins as well. With a low growl, he buried himself deeply, one last time. She felt him quiver within her as he released his seed.
    And then he collapsed on top of her.
    She loved the feeling. All of it. The continuing shivers of ecstasy. The weight of his hard body. His heat surrounding her.
    She felt safe, and adored, and loved.
    The feeling delighted her, so she laughed. He winced and eased out, pausing only to strip off the condom before he folded her into his arms. He held her tightly as he fought for breath. She curled closer, reveling in the pounding of his heart against her cheek.
    So this was what it was like.
    This was what it was like making love to a real man.

Chapter Eight
    Hanna leaned against the rail watching the girls prance around the paddock on tame horses—led by Cody’s
actual
ranch hands—squealing with fear. A smile curled her lips.
    She wasn’t smiling at how ridiculous they looked, on horseback in tiny denim cutoffs and spindly heels. It was the memories of last night wafting through her mind that caused her doe-eyed muddle.
    Logan had been magnificent, bringing her to the peak of pleasure again and again.
    After that first time, they’d rested in each other’s arms, and then drifted into a sweet sleep. But then he’d awoken her, and loved her again, his mouth, his hands, his body creating indescribable pleasure. He’d taken her against the wall at one point, which still sent a mind-numbing thrill through her to think of it.
    Against the wall.
    It had been hard waking up as dawn traced her fingers into the tiny room in the back of a dusty barn. But she had. She’d eased herself from his hold, dressed—with only a mooning glance, or twelve—and slipped away.
    She couldn’t wait to see him again today, although with the itinerary Cody had planned, she doubted there would be time for a dalliance.
    She sighed.
    Maybe tonight.
    â€œWhere have you been?”
    Hanna winced as Tibby’s sharp question lanced her. She didn’t need to turn to know that Tibby had sidled up next to her—her