“You’ll have to show them to me sometime.” He removed her other boot. That sock was red with black and white spots. “Not matching socks, I see.” He chuckled, the deep sound making Toni’s belly quiver.
“I have only two feet,” she said. “I like to wear as much variety as possible. Doesn’t make sense to buy socks and not wear them.” And her little sister had all her mismatched sock mates, but Birdie was the last thing she wanted to dwell upon at that moment.
“Lucky me. I have a place for a third sock.” When he grabbed his engorged cock and stroked it from base to tip, she laughed at the mental image of that glorious appendage swathed in one of her colorful socks.
“Are you laughing at my dick?” He jerked his chin up in challenge.
She shook her head vehemently. “No. I wouldn’t. I just . . . I . . . The thought of it wearing a sock . . .” Her eyes stung as tears threatened to fall. He was going to leave her here alone, wasn’t he?
“You sure you’re into me?”
She rose up from the sofa and wrapped both arms around his neck. How could he possibly think she wasn’t into him? She got sexually excited when he merely looked at her, and she was pretty sure she was having spontaneous orgasms whenever he touched her. “I’m sure.”
“You keep closing your legs to me,” he said.
Just because she was skittish. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to pretend I wasn’t experienced.” She’d tie her thighs wide open if need be.
“Is that really why?”
She nodded, knowing she was a terrible liar and that if she spoke, she’d probably blurt out that she was a virgin and the closest she’d gotten to having sex was at a college party when the guy had been so drunk that he couldn’t get it up. Or maybe it had been like he’d said and he couldn’t get it up because she was too fat and ugly to turn him on.
“I’ll pretend to be patient then,” he said, grabbing her breasts, “when all I really want to do is fuck you hard and fast. I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on.”
“I’ll show you how wet I am for you now,” she said, her belly quivering. Was she really going to show him her panties? She sat back on the sofa, pushed her skirt up, and forced her thighs apart. He shifted back and stared down at the scrap of black lace covering her aching flesh.
After a moment, he lifted her gaze to hers. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Are you going to show me?”
She looked down at her exposed panties. “You can see them.”
He chuckled. “I want to see your sopping wet pussy, not your panties. I have no interest in panties. What I want is the flesh underneath.”
She couldn’t stop the blood from flooding her face. She had no voluntary control over blushing. She did have control over removing her panties, though. She reached for the elastic at her hips, and before she could chicken out, Logan covered her hands with his and helped her tug the garment off over her butt. He pulled her panties slowly down her thighs and calves before tossing them aside. He placed a hand on either thigh and forced her legs open wide. Turning her head to the side, she closed her eyes and let him look at her. Her stomach churned with nerves.
“That is pretty wet,” he said, “but I think I can do better.”
Her thighs tightened as they instinctively tried to close again, but he held them open with his shoulders. His fingers brushed against her lips and spread them further. Oh God! He was touching her. There.
“Do you want me to lick your pussy?”
Lick it? With his actual tongue? Of course with his tongue. What else would he lick with?
Toni swallowed hard. “Yes?” she said tenuously.
“That didn’t sound very certain,” he teased.
“Yes,” she said more firmly.
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say what you want me to do.”
“Lick my . . . Lick my . . . ” There was no way she was saying that word. “ . . . my vagina . . .” She cringed. He chuckled.
“Your pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
She huffed with impatience. This man was corrupting her in a bad way. “My pussy,” she said. “Lick my pussy, Logan.”
“My pleasure.”
When his tongue touched her exposed skin, she nearly leaped off the sofa.
“Hold still, Toni,” he whispered. “You don’t have to act quite that skittish. I’m plenty turned on already.”
She bit her lip. Just the feel of his breath against her flesh made her pussy spasm with delight. His lips and tongue brushed against her . . . her . . . clitoris. Her clit. She took a deep breath. Just a word, she reminded herself. And a very sensitive body part. Wowza. It had never felt that good when she’d touched it herself. Logan’s tongue flicked repeatedly against her clit until she grabbed his hair in tight fists and held him firmly. Something was building inside her. She needed . . .
“Oh!” Her back arched involuntarily, toes curled, breath came in ragged gasps as pleasure consumed her. “Logan?” She realized she was rocking her hips in time with the movement of his tongue, but she couldn’t stop. He sucked her sensitized clit into his mouth, and she exploded. And screamed. The rhythmic clenching between her thighs spiraled outward until every inch of her body was alight with pleasure. Tingling euphoria. Bliss.
She came back to her senses slowly and realized she had Logan in a stranglehold with both legs wrapped around his shoulders and his hair tangled in her fists. She’d been humping his face. How mortifying. She released him at once. “Sorry.”
He grinned at her and rubbed his scalp with one hand. “I like that you got so carried away.”
She flushed. Again. “You do?”
He nodded. “It makes me think you like what I’m doing to you.”
“I do like it.”
His gaze never left hers as he asked, “Are you ready for more?”
“There’s more?”
“Take off your skirt.”
She hesitated. Was she really going to lose her virginity? To a gorgeous rock god with a huge cock? Nice. That drunk stranger in college who’d made her feel like the homeliest woman on the planet could bite her fat ass. Logan Schmidt was going to have sex with her, and she was going to love every minute of it.
She assumed.
She unfastened her skirt, tugged it down her legs, and tossed it aside. Feeling ridiculous in nothing but mismatched socks, she removed those too. She was naked. With a man. And not just any man. This man. Somehow she’d imagined sex should always occur in a bed beneath the covers in the dark. But apparently on a sofa in the back of a tour bus with all the lights on worked just fine too.