“Arms up,” he grunts, interrupting my wayward thoughts. Again, I absently and blindly follow his instructions, my mind no longer my own.
My arms raise above my head without questions. Logan produces a sweatshirt from behind his back and tugs it down, over my head and body. It’s huge on me, landing just above my knees and extending well past my hands. No guy’s sweatshirt has ever been too big for me. I feel tiny in it. Tiny and protected, like a swaddle. I pull the neck of it up, inhaling deeply. It smells like him. Like the forest, right after it’s rained.
Fresh. Pine. Earthy. I love it.
Logan sucks his lip between his teeth as he leans back and takes me in. His heated gaze rakes over my body, lighting it on fire with his eyes alone as he goes. I resist the urge to yank on the sleeves awkwardly under his penetrating stare. Instead, I stand up straight, channeling every ounce of womanly bravado I can muster. Faking a confidence I don’t feel.
“God fucking damnit. The sight of you in my clothes does things to me.” His voice is a thick, growl. If the sound came from anyone else, I’d probably be afraid. But from him, I want to drop to my knees and see if I can make him do it again.
“Like what?” I whisper, my body swaying toward his. I feel drunk...on him.
His eyes meet mine again and what I see in them melts me. It consumes me. It completely and utterlydestroys me.
He steps into me and places a hand around the front of my throat. My eyes widen in response, but instead of fear, I feel nothing but ahot and achy need.
“Babydoll, if I had time, I would show you exactly what you do to me. I would prove to you again and again that just the sight of you has me damn near busting at the seams.”
I open my mouth to ask what he means, but he punctuates his statement by grinding his extremely hard and thick cock into my hip. Between the layers, I can’t feel everything, but what I can feel tells me one very important fact.
Logan Huxley ishung.
“Do you understand now, Shiloh?” he grunts, rutting against me harshly. His hips grind into mine, again and again, in a mesmerizing way that has me ready to cum on the spot. He’s not even touching my pussy, and I’m ready to combust.
“Please,” I whine, pushing back into him. This is madness. Undeniable madness, but I don’t care, and I can’t stop. I need him more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.
Logan bends down, tightening his grip on my throat slightly, using the pressure to tilt my head back. “Please what?” he murmurs.
We’re so close now. So close to everything I’ve wanted since I first met him. So close to everything I desperately need.
“Logan, I need you,” I groan, my hands wrapping around his body and grasping his ass cheeks to drag him closer.
Closer, I need closer. I need—I need...
Logan lets out a feral-sounding growl at my plea, and before I know what’s happening, I’m being shoved against the wall. His huge, hot body presses into mine, blocking my escape, not that I’d want one. His forearms land on either side of my head as he thrusts his thick thigh between my legs, forcing them to widen and accommodate him.
“Is this what you need, Babydoll? Do you need to use me to take the edge off?” he grunts, rubbing his thigh against my throbbing clit. I squeeze my legs around his, relishing in the pressure he’s given me, exactly where I need it so badly. I grind down on him but then, his hands are on my hips, halting me. I let out a sound that’s half-groan, half-whine. “Say it, Shiloh. Tell me what you want. I need to hear you say it.”
Swallowing, I push past the hesitation. The little voice inside my head telling me not to be greedy. The one saying that I’m asking for too much, that it’s not all about me. The one that Cole put there. I ignore that fucker, focusing on the incredible man standing in front of me, offering me exactly what I need.
“I want you to touch me, Logan. Touch me and make me cum.”
And then, his lips are on mine.
It’s everything I imagined, and so much more. His lips are soft and thick, his beard coarse and scratchy, as he devours my mouth. His kiss is vicious. It’s not soft and sweet. It’s forceful and borderline painful. Like he’s needed this just as badly as I have. Like he’s wanted me for weeks and has been holding himself back the entire time.
He’s not holding back now, though.
Now, Logan’staking.
Taking everything he wants and forcing me to give in to his will. His hands roam my body like an introduction. As if he’s meeting every inch of me for the first time and doesn’t want to miss a thing. They’re greedy as they grope and tug, twist, and squeeze. He’s not avoiding my stomach rolls or saggy boobs. He’s not glossing over the thick, dimpled curve of my ass or the cellulite covering my thighs.
Logan doesn’t pretend those body parts,mybody, don’t exist. He doesn’t skip straight to my nipples or pussy. He doesn’t stick to the body parts that are muscle or bone instead of fatty flesh like other men do.
He ravages me like a real man should. He devours the feeling of me beneath his palms like he can’t get enough. He pulls on the flesh above my ribs, yanking me deeper into his body. It feels like he’s trying to consume me. Like he can’t possibly get close enough.
It's fucking everything.
I try not to get emotional at the feeling of his hands on me and the way he’s worshiping my body. A body so easily dismissed by others, men and women alike. A body that has brought me joy and sorrow. A body that has brought me life and taken it away. A body that my ex ignored and rarely touched, especially as it began to grow and change.