“Should we talk about the condom thing?” I ask.
She blinks those pretty brown eyes at me. “I’m on the pill. I think we’re okay.”
I kiss her shoulder. “And if we’re not?”
“Then we still will be.” She grins at me.
Yes, we will be.
Emily
I wake Logan by placing quick kisses across his nak*d chest. He sleeps like the dead, since he can’t hear. Nothing usually wakes him, but apparently this does. The sheet tents quickly, prompted by the length of his manhood, even before his eyes blink open.
His arm wraps around my nak*d back, and his blue eyes meet mine. “Morning,” he says, looking down at me. “Why are you so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this early?” he asks. He props a hand beneath his head so he can look down at my face.
“I can assure you there’s nothing bushy about my tail.” I took care of that with a day at the spa before I came back to New York. I laugh when he chuckles and growls, rolling me beneath him. He tosses the covers over his head and inches down my body.
“What are you doing?” I ask. I quickly realize he can’t hear me, and I tap his shoulder. He tosses the covers back and looks up. “What are you doing?” I ask again.
“I didn’t get to see enough of your non-bushy tail last night.” He grins and opens me up with his fingertips, looking down at the most private part of me while he licks his lips. “Not bushy at all,” he says. “Kind of wet, though.” He slides a finger inside me. “Really, really wet.” Another finger joins the first, and he scissors them apart.
His lips rest right above where the triangle of private hair would be if I hadn’t just had a wax, and he kisses me softly. I squirm because what he’s doing feels really good, but I’m also mortified by the intimacy of his actions. He acts like my body has been his since the beginning of time. Like there’s no thought of indecency or embarrassment between us. I like it. I like it a lot. I can imagine him having this same intimacy and more with my body when we’re both old and gray. When we’re helping one another shower rather than hav**g s*x in the shower. When we’re bedridden instead of lying in bed making one another sweat. I can already imagine it. And I love it.
Yes, it frightens me sometimes. What sane woman wouldn’t be scared to death of a man who can make her feel the way Logan makes me feel? No one.
I love this man. I love every part of him. And he apparently loves every part of me if his questing fingers and his foolish grin are any indication.
I tap his shoulder. “You’re going to have to let me up.”
His eyebrows draw together. “Why?” He parts my lower lips and blows across the center of me, and my feet arch of their own volition.
A blush creeps up my face. It’s absolutely absurd to be embarrassed when his fingers are inside me, but I really have to pee. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
He grins and flips me over. I think he’s helping me get up, but he’s not. He climbs on top of me and straddles my thighs. He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my neck. He spreads the cheeks of my ass, and I feel the head of his dick probing my wetness. “Let’s try this while you have to pee,” he says. I’m mortified at the very thought of it. “You might come harder.” He pushes himself fully inside of me. I want to protest, but he feels too good, filling me with his length.
He can’t see my mouth in this position, but he can see my hands. If I come any harder than I did last night, you might have to call for a doctor to restart my heart.
He chuckles. I love him so much. He starts to move inside me, and I swear he’s hitting a spot that’s never been touched before. “Do you still have to pee?” he asks.
I shake my head. I don’t have to pee at all. Logan rocks my hip so he can slide his hand beneath me, and he bumps my clit, then flattens me over his forearm. I lift my bottom so he can move his fingers, pushing back toward him as he rides me slowly, pushing in and pulling out as he rubs my cl*t in small, tight, delicious circles.
“Have you ever used a vibrator?” he asks. His breaths are heavy in my ear and his arm is trembling by my shoulder, but he keeps up his lazy thrusts. “Have you?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Your cl*t is so sensitive,” he says, his voice like melted butter, smooth and slick. “I think you’d like one.” He rubs me so slowly, and I can’t bite back my groan. He smiles against my shoulder. “Would you let me use one with you if I bought it?”
I’d let him do just about anything right now as long as he keeps doing what he’s doing. I don’t respond.
“I think you’d love it. You’d get off so fast. Even faster than normal.” His fingers are practically wicked, and his h*ps continue to pump, shoving him in and out of me so slowly. I push my bottom back, and he takes even more of me. I try to speed him up, because I want to come so badly. But he’s so slow and methodical. His fingers on my cl*t move quicker. He knows what I want, and he gives it to me. “So sensitive,” he says.
I break with a muffled cry, my face pressed into the sheets to keep myself from screaming, and he continues to rub my clit, milking every last shiver and shake of pleasure from my body. He stills inside me as I come.
“God, I love the way you squeeze me so tightly when you come,” he says. His words make me crazy, and he knows it. I shiver and collapse against the bed. I’m spent.
Having to pee didn’t make me come harder, I sign. Just for the record.
“It doesn’t improve that kind of orgasm,” he says, and I feel his rumbly chuckle against my back. “It makes this kind better.” He shoves my right leg forward, pushing it out to the side and up. Then he spreads my ass cheeks and starts to move.
My breath leaves my body. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything but hold on tightly to the sheets as I arch my back, giving him every single inch of me, and I take everything he has to give me. I’ve never felt like this, never had this kind of stimulation. He’s not even touching my clit, and he’s making me crazy. He’s rubbing some part of me inside that I didn’t know existed.
His heavy grunts in my ear tell me he’s close. But I’m closer. This orgasm isn’t like the last one. It’s completely different, and it’s more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced. “Come with me,” he growls. He grows bigger inside me, if that’s even possible, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop until I fling my head back, coming around him. This one is a warm wash of pure pleasure, nothing like the shaking, quaking clitoral orgasm from before. He grunts and says my name over and over as he comes, and I stretch out across the sheets. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t talk. He pulls out of me, quivering as he does so, and he falls down beside me. His breaths are harsh, and he’s struggling to compose himself as much as I am.
“Do you still need to pee?” he asks with a chuckle.
“I might if I could move,” I say. He tweaks my nose and laughs. It’s a throaty sound, and it makes me so happy to hear it. “Where did you learn that?” I ask. I realize my mistake as soon as I make it.
He shrugs and avoids my gaze. I reach for him, making myself come out of my post-coital stupor, and I climb up on his chest, elbowing him so that he winces and I can take his mind off my mistake. I don’t want him to feel guilty for his past. I can’t change it. And right now, I’m damn glad he has one because I’ve never had an experience like that. Just think what I was missing.
“You have pointy elbows,” he says, pulling my arms to my sides so I fall flat on his chest. I stick my chin into him and laugh. “And your chin, too.” He tousles my hair playfully. “Death by elbow impalement,” he says. He has dismissed my earlier moment of insanity with my stupid question. Good.
“Sorry I was being nosy,” I say quietly.
“You can ask me anything you want,” he says. He looks into my eyes. “But you can’t get mad at me when I give you the answers.” He arches a blond eyebrow. “Do you really want to know where I learned that?”
I push off of him. “No.”
He chuckles. “Wait,” he says, pulling me back on top of him. “I learned it from a men’s health magazine, silly.” He laughs. “I wasn’t even sure it would work.” His laughter rumbles around the room. It’s such a welcome sound. He looks down his nose at me. “Did it work?”
“Oh, heck yeah,” I breathe. It worked.
He kisses me. “Good.”
Logan
I follow Emily into her apartment and stop short when I see Trip lying on her sofa in nothing more than a pair of boxers. He has one hand stuck in the waistband of his underwear and the other is behind his head. He’s completely oblivious to the fact that we’re there. What the fuck, I sign.
He didn’t know we were coming.
I don’t give a f**k if he knew we were coming or not. He doesn’t live here. And he doesn’t live alone. This is shit.
“Trip,” Emily calls. She picks up a couch pillow and throws it at his head. “Put some clothes on.”
He sits up. “Oh,” he says, his smile bright. Then he sees me behind her. His smile falters. “Good morning.” He nods at me and gives me a tight, fake grin. “Logan,” he says.
“Trip,” I say with a nod. Emily walks toward the kitchen. He calls to her retreating back. “A courier came a few hours ago with some clothes. I put them on your bed.”
Her head shoots around the corner. “My room is off-limits,” she says sharply. Trip grins. I want to punch his f**king face.
“It’s not like I’ve never been in your room before,” he says. He’s still grinning, and this time, I start toward him.
Emily rushes across the room and stops me by putting her hands on my chest. “Let’s go see what my mom sent.”
I look down at her. I’ll go with her as soon as I deal with Trip. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in just a minute.” I nudge her shoulder toward her room.
“Logan,” she says. Stop it.
Stop what? I go and sit down on the couch beside Trip, cross my foot over my knee, and raise my arms to the back of the couch. “You go shower. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
Emily stomps her foot, and I smile at her. I’m not moving. Not until I tell Trip a few things he needs to know. You may as well go ahead. Trip and I need to talk.
“That thing you two do is rather rude,” Trip says snidely, looking from one of us to the other.
“You mean talking?” I ask. I smile at him. To Emily, I sign, Go ahead. I won’t hurt him. I promise.
You swear it?
I draw an x over the center of my chest. She rolls her eyes and goes into her bedroom.
“It’s still just as rude now as it was a moment ago,” he says. I imagine he grumbles it, but I really can’t tell. He’s looking at the TV and not at me, but I can still see his lips.
“What’s rude is bringing my girlfriend home and finding her ex-boyfriend in her apartment wearing nothing but his boxers.” I smile at him. I work to look relaxed, but I’m not.