He pushes forward, the blunt, thick head of his cock crowning against me. The sensation is a sharp, stinging stretch that steals the air from my lungs. My nails dig into his tattooed shoulders. Every inch of me feels stretched to the absolute limit by his sheer girth.
He freezes, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticks in his cheek as he waits for my pussy walls to adjust to the intrusion.
"I knew it," he groans, a wave of primal pride in his voice as I wrap tightly around him. "I’m the only one who will ever know this. You’re mine, Savannah. All mine".
"Don't stop," I manage to say, though tears prick my eyes. Logan jerks his chin once, pulls back slightly, and then pushes his cock a little deeper. The burn is a searing fire radiating through my pelvis.
He kisses me, swallowing my whimpers, his tongue mimicking the way his thick cock is invading my body.
One steady, relentless surge carries him deeper. The final barrier yields with a sharp pinch that quickly dissolves into a grounding ache. A muffled cry breaks against his lips as he finally fills me completely. He stays buried to the hilt, filling me completely. Every muscle is pulled taut, anchored by his heavy weight and the staggering reality of him inside me.
He is so deep he’s touching my soul.
He holds perfectly still, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his hips locked against mine. We are fused together. He is inside me, claiming the space that no one else has ever touched.
"Mine," he growls against my lips, possessive and final. "You feel that? You’re full of me. Only me."
The pain begins to fade, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache that feels strangely right. I can feel the pulse of him inside me. I lift my legs, wrapping them around his waist, drawing him closer.
"Yours," I whisper back.
That one word snaps the last of his control.
He begins to move. He withdraws almost all the way out, leaving me aching and empty for a split second, before slamming back home. The friction is incredible. The pleasure-pain dynamic shifts, the pain receding as my body accommodates him, turning into a deep, intense fullness that hits all the right spots.
A rhythm is set that is punishing and worshipful. Thrust. Drag. Thrust. The bed creaks loudly, the sound lost under his heavy groans and my breathless cries. He watches me the whole time, his eyes locked on my face, drinking in every expression of pleasure.
"You take it so well," he praises, his voice guttural. "My brave girl. My little traveler. You found your way home, didn't you?"
"Yes," I sob, tossing my head. "Yes, Logan."
Every thrust pushes me deeper into the mattress. I can feel the sheer power of him, the strength in his back muscles under my hands. He isn't just having sex with me; he’s marking me. He’s rewriting my DNA with every stroke.
The friction builds again, faster this time. I feel the tension coiling in my belly, a second wave of pleasure rising to meet him. I clamp down on him, my inner muscles squeezing his shaft.
He roars, his head falling back. "Fuck! Savannah, don't—oh God, you're milking me."
He drives into me harder, faster. The control is gone. He’s pure animal now, driving into his mate. The pleasure spirals out of control, blinding and white-hot. I’m close, so close.
"Let go," he commands. "Come with me."
I let go. I fall into the abyss, my body convulsing around him. The pleasure is so intense I see stars. And right at the peak, I feel him stiffen. He buries his face in my neck, biting down gently on the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder, and pours himself into me.
He groans, a long, drawn-out sound of release, emptying himself deep inside my womb. I can feel the pulsing, the warmth filling me, claiming me in the most primitive way possible.
He stays there for a long time, trembling slightly, his heavy weight crushing me into the mattress. I don't want him to move. I stroke his sweat-slicked back, tracing the lines of his tattoos, listening to his heart thunder against my chest.
The storm outside is still raging, howling against the walls of the cabin. But in here, in this bed, with this massive, dangerous man covering my body, I have never felt safer.
Slowly, Logan lifts his head. He looks wrecked. His hair is a mess, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark. He kisses my forehead, then my nose, then my lips—softly, tenderly.
"You realize what just happened," he rumbles. It’s not a question.
"I lost my virginity to a biker in a blizzard," I manage, a weak smile tugging at my lips.
He shakes his head, his expression solemn. He shifts his weight but doesn't pull out, staying embedded inside me.
"No," he corrects me, his voice low and vibrating through my chest. "You just let the President of the Broken Halos MC claim you. You’re wearing my scent now. You’re carrying my seed."
