My hands curled in the grass, and I moaned as his fingers undid my jeans.
The button popped.
The slow descend of my zipper drove me crazy.
The sound was agonizing, because I wanted him to rip them off and plunge deep inside of me, hard and fast. But Logan wanted to do this slowly. Relish every moment, and yet, I was dying for him.
“Logan.” My whispered moan was met with a muffled, “Christ” as I felt his fingers reach in my jeans and go lower. And lower until—
I stiffened, sucking in air.
“You’re wet.”
Well, yeah, I’d been wet for two-and-half months. Logan turned me on just by looking at me. I ran my hands through his hair. “I’ve been wet since the day I met you, Logan.”
His head came up, and his eyes widened. God, he had to have known how much I wanted him.
“Jesus, Emily.” He was kissing me again, hands curled into my hair, and his mouth hard against mine. There was no breathing, no thinking, just pure hunger.
He raised his head, both of us breathing hard, his sexy bedroom hair falling in front of his right eye while he looked at me with haunted openness. “I’m not letting you go.”
I cupped his cheek with my shaking hand, my thumb stroking across his stubble. “Don’t ever hurt me.”
“Never.” He sat up then moved down me as he grabbed the edges of my jeans and pulled. I lifted my butt, and my panties came with the denim.
He stopped at mid-thigh. “Beautiful. And shaved. That is a … surprise.”
I did have a small, what they call, landing strip, but the rest was waxed clean—Brazilian. I’d never liked hair down there, and Logan liking it—it made me giddy inside.
His fingertip ran down the small patch of hair, and I gasped as he spread the folds then slipped into the wetness.
“Logan, oh God,” I arched my back, trying to bend my knees but unable to because of my jeans trapping my legs. “Jeans, Logan. Jeans.”
“Wait.” He continued to enjoy caressing my clit until I screamed and panted, then when he felt me close to the edge, he backed off and went further down to circle my opening.
I wanted him inside me so bad that I was arching up to meet him until he put his hand on my stomach and forced me to stay down.
He put two fingers on either side of my folds, slid through the wetness then hesitated at my opening.
“Logan. Please.”
“Beg me.”
“Logan.”
“Emily.”
“Please, Logan. I’m begging you.”
He plunged two fingers partly inside, and I inhaled sharply at the sudden assault. It grabbed me. Held me. It didn’t let go.
He pulled out, and I cried out with disappointment only to be met with a quick kiss on the top of my clit. Then he tore my jeans off the rest of the way and lay between my legs.
“Bend your knees.”
I did.
“Open.”
I did that too. I trusted him implicitly and him taking control felt like it was fulfilling a need in me to surrender to him. I was able to forget everything and bask in whatever pleasure he gave me.
He gently pushed them a little wider still, and I closed my eyes and bit my lip as I felt the first suckle on my clit. Oh God. The sensations inside me were so heightened that I knew I wasn’t going to last more than a few minutes with Logan’s mouth on me. Never had I imagined it being like this. I moaned, arching my back as Logan’s tongue slipped inside me.
Gripping the grass on either side of my head, I groaned as he worked magic with his tongue through the folds, tasting the wetness then suckling my clit again. The pressure in my abdomen ached, built, and was cresting. I tensed. So, so close to the edge, nearly pushed off the hill.
He stopped. “Not yet, baby.”
Oh God, how could I do that? “Logan, I can’t. I can’t hold—”
“You will.” His voice was rough and demanding, and it made me even hotter. His fingers pushed inside me, but never all the way. “So tight.”
He pumped in and out of me several times then licked me again. “Your pussy is perfect. I knew you’d taste this way. You’re made for me, Emily.”
“Logan,” I panted, every muscle tightening. “Please. I need you inside me now.”
He pulled his fingers from me, and then I watched as he licked them off one by one. I nearly came just watching him. The way his eyes glued to mine as if he could see right into me. How the curve of his mouth partially crept up to a smile as he tasted me.
It was him. Everything he did, I adored. How he walked with confidence, not a swagger, but when he came into a room it was with presence. How he was chasing his dream with his band, willing to take all the money he had to try and make it in a business that was saturated with great bands. He took risks because he had faith in himself. How he didn’t take shit from anyone. How he put all of himself into whatever he was doing. But most of all, I loved how he looked at me and saw everything I am and could be.
“Are you on something?”
I nodded. “The pill. To control my ovulation pain.”
“I’m clean. I was checked two weeks after I met you and have been with no one since.”
He’d been with no one. He went and got checked? Was it because he thought … was he thinking about us?
“Yeah, Emily. I wanted to make sure I was good before I ever touched you, condom or not.”
Wow. “I want you inside me, Logan. I want to feel all of you.”
He leaned to the side and yanked off his jeans. I glanced down before he moved on top of me and glimpsed his erection—pulsating, huge—and wondered how the hell that was fitting inside me. Before I could start Lego building and scaring myself, I reached between us and touched him.