The self-consciousness part goes away when I look into his face, into the captivated obsession there.
“Fuck,” he groans, quickly undoing his belt and pulling it loose.
His cock is even bigger than I guessed. It springs out of his pants, massive, the helm bulging and covered in precome. A dominant vein pulses on one side, showing me how hard he is, as though he’s almost bursting with his desire.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “You’re huge.”
“Push your tits together.”
My hands move to do what he says immediately, without any hesitation. He leans down, the angle looking a little awkward, but then he slips his cock between my breasts and lets out a low groan.
I whimper as I move my hands, arranging myself, so his massive, heaving dick is in the best spot. He grunts and starts moving, staring down all the while as if hypnotized by the thrusting motion.
“Perfect virgin tits,” he says, voice trembling. “Fuck…moan for me, Lucy. I can’t believe how close I am.”
I do as he says, confidence flooding into me, washing away the nerves and the uncertainty as his breath gets quicker.
His lust grows. His need inflames.
I’m pushing him closer and closer to the edge, his cock making tingling friction on my breasts, driven by his panting and his animal unleashing.
We lose ourselves in this, with Logan reaching down and cradling my shoulders as he fucks my breasts, his growls turning into stilted moans. I’m sure I can feel his cock getting somehow bigger, swelling against my breasts.
Then he opens his mouth in a roar, primal and deep, the roar of a man who only ever wants one woman.
Who only wantsme.
Hot come fires from the end of his huge cock, splattering onto my chest and a little on my chin, warm as it drips down my body. He keeps going, fucking my breasts faster as more spills out of him.
Finally, he takes a couple of stumbling steps back.
Pulling up his jeans, he turns abruptly, leaving the room… he stamps down the stairs.
Where is he going?
He leaves me here, covered in his come, with no explanation.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Logan
I stop myself as I walk into the office, closing my eyes as burning red pulses in my vision, telling me I have to give her the truth and let events take their course.
That’s why I basically ran down here…
I was on the edge of telling her.
Everything.
But now I stop, look back up the stairs as though coming to my senses. The haze of the release has passed, making thinking a little easier.
Walking across the office, I go into the bathroom, grab some tissue paper, and then return to the staircase.
I’d never leave her like that.
It was preservation, both of myself and her desire for me, that made me run. If I’d blurted it out right then, there’s no way of knowing how she’d feel.
In a deranged way, I wish my need was lesser somehow, that it didn’t go as far as a house, a family, a marriage, and a life together. But the second I think that my whole body goes hot, as though ready to protect the possessive impulse at all costs.