"All right. But if we're sticking with fantasies tonight, we're going with one of mine."
She moistened her lips at the look in his eye. Remarkably, she could feel him hardening beneath her. The man had stamina, though it seemed to be calling the same response from her, because she had to suppress the desire to rub her bare pussy against that tempting iron. "I'm here to serve, Master."
What she'd intended as a tease didn't feel that way at all under that penetrating look. "I want my schoolgirl to take off her top. I'm going to suck on her nipples until she's squirming her cute ass on my lap and begging me for my cock. Until I'm so hard I've got to fuck her or die, and she's so wet, she'd slide onto me like melted butter. When she begs me for my cock, though, I'm going to make her rub harder, until she comes against my jeans. Does that fantasy work for you?"
"No objections," she said in a thick voice. She saw no censure in his gaze, but she did have a peculiar emptiness, now that he'd turned away from the other, at her behest. The vagaries of the female mind, disappointed when she was given exactly what she requested.
"Then open your top, Madison. Show me my fantasy."
She tried to unknot it, and fumbled. He took over for her, undoing it, sliding the cloth out of the way, but leaving it on her shoulders. Giving her an enigmatic look, he put his arm around her, his palm on her buttock, and slid her much closer. It fitted her solidly over his length, making her shudder. He nuzzled both breasts with his mouth, his stubbled jaw, his heated breath, and her hands landed on his shoulders.
"Please . . . will you take off your shirt?"
He'd refused her earlier, but she hoped he wouldn't this time. She was starting to understand the power of denial, how it could drive things higher, but maybe he understood it was a first step to what she'd talked about. Though she might not have the courage to ask him questions about himself, she wanted closer to him, at least physically.
He let go of her to open the shirt, shrug out of it. As he did, he had to lean forward to pull it loose from the back of his jeans. When he did, the cloth was already off of one broad shoulder. She placed her lips there, then her cheek, rubbing. He stilled, his other arm going around her back to hold her in the intimate pose as he wrestled the rest of the shirt loose, then it was both arms holding her, bare skin to bare skin. She let out a little sigh of painful joy. "Thank you."
His chest hair was rough against her breasts, but she liked that. When she drew back at last, her gaze slid down the pectorals, flat nipples and hard abs to the waist of his jeans, where he'd left the top button undone. He had no tattoos, either, at least not where she could see.
"Put your hands back on my shoulders, Madison."
She obeyed, though her fingers whispered down to his biceps as that powerful arm cinched around her waist. His hand palmed her buttock, drawing her closer to his mouth once more.
He didn't go after her aggressively this time, as he had before. Instead, when he wrapped his lips around her right nipple, it was a gentle nursing. It pulled things from her heart, from low in her belly. She slid her hands into the hair she'd cut, held on to him, working her hips in slow circles against him, an unconscious natural rhythm. She hummed and sighed, lost herself in the lovely liquid flow of it. He kneaded her backside, stroking beneath the plaid, and when he turned his head to rub his jaw against her soft flesh again, her knuckles drifted along his cheek. He captured a finger in his teeth, flicking it playfully before releasing it to return his attention to her breasts.
"Logan," she breathed, and he made a deep male noise in response. If only . . .
She'd always sought the reality that was a mirror image of the fantasy. But this was a reality that was a window to a different kind of fantasy, one perhaps better than what she'd imagined. In an entirely different, unexpected way. She wondered if that was why he'd chosen this tactic, to prove that to her. She wouldn't put it past him.
He lifted her, rising from the chair with his arm around her waist, holding her without any apparent effort as she curled her legs around him. He helped, holding her thighs at his hips as he took them around the coffee table to the large area rug.
When he laid her down on her back there, she met his eyes.
"I did the cards here. I fanned them out around me and then . . . I lay on them and masturbated. I thought about you."
The muscle in his jaw flexed. He cupped the side of her face, her turning her head to put her mouth on him, teasing his fingers with her tongue, wanting to suck a finger into her mouth again, but he didn't let her take control to that extent. He drew the hand away, with enough reluctance to please her.
"Put your hands over your head, Madison," he said, his eyes glowing in the dim light. The movie had ended and reverted back to cable, a
music channel she'd had on earlier in the day. Children's lullabies, of all things, a channel mothers or fathers could use to help rock the baby to sleep.
She obeyed, and trembled at the look in his eyes. Never in her life had she been with a male who had the confidence to command her, who made her feel as if obeying him was to her benefit. That he could take care of her, that her submission would be a gift to him, not a self-destructive course. She'd been with men for several years, several months, it didn't matter. From the first moment, Logan had given her something none of them ever had.
He knelt between her spread thighs, his fingertips tented on either one, and then he traced them, down to the knee and then back up, slow, until he was under the skirt. "So wet," he said, tsking. "Such a bad girl."
He stretched out on his stomach, his powerful form long enough that his legs extended past the rug. Sliding his hands beneath her thighs, he cupped her bare buttocks beneath the plaid skirt, gripping her under the garter straps. Then he nosed up the skirt and put his mouth right on her cunt.
She arched into that mouth, a gasp escaping her lips. He started with her inner walls, proving what he'd mentioned earlier, that there were so many potential stimulation points beyond the clit. His slow licks progressed deep into those crevices like a kid licking furrows into a dish of ice cream. His nose nuzzled her clit, making her squirm, but he held her still as he continued to worry the inner and outer labia, then his tongue pushed into her, swirling around. She cried out, lifting up so his face was even deeper into her pussy, and he took full advantage of that.
She had to admit, even with her own vibrator, she'd focused on clit manipulation. It was fast, efficient. She'd never realized how sensitive to arousal the labia walls were, but Logan was educating her quickly. She was writhing under his touch, the unusual but not at all unpleasant feelings making it impossible to stay still. Logan stopped, sliding up her body, bracing himself on both elbows, his hard abdomen against her throbbing clit as he gathered up the tails of her shirt. He tied them under her breasts, not over them, so they were displayed in a frame of stretched white fabric. He squeezed them, played his tongue in between them, then left the nipples aching in the cool air as he returned his attention and his mouth between her legs.
When he closed over her clit this time, she nearly came up off the floor. Her fingers curled helplessly above her head, her arms limp because he'd commanded them to be there, to allow herself to be ravished by his mouth with no interference from her. He lifted her hips off the ground, his fingers digging into her buttocks, two of them teasing deep into that crevice, rubbing her anus as she began to beg. She'd already figured out he liked that, but it wouldn't have mattered. She didn't know how not to do so.
"Please . . . please . . ."
He lifted his mouth, glistening with her juices, eyed her down the length of her body. "Please what, Madison? You want the fantasy or the reality?"
She panted at that, tears stinging her eyes. "Both," she whispered. "Both." She'd always wanted both, and that was why she'd always been disappointed. She wanted too much. But he wanted her to reach for it, take the risk once more. He demanded it.