With You

“Oh God, Logan, please. I need you.” We could savor and taste and discover one another the rest of the week, but right now I wanted Logan inside me. I wanted to feel him naked against me. It was like waiting at the top of a toboggan hill and being rocked back and forth before being pushed over the edge.

“I know, Mouse.” He nipped at my ear lobe then suckled, and I fought against his hands that kept me pinned to the grass.

I had to touch him, feel his skin, get rid of the clothes that separated us. “Logan please. Clothes.”

His head came up from him kissing my collar bone. “We’re taking this slow. My way. I’ve waited too long to have you right where you are now, under me, pussy aching, hot and sexy as hell.”

I’d never been called sexy in my life and it sent a shudder straight through me hearing it from Logan.

“I like to play, Emily. It’s who I am. And it’s in you too. I know you get turned on when I take control.” Did I? I wasn’t experienced enough to really know what he was talking about. “But if you’re scared of anything, I need you to say no. That’s all it takes, and we stop. Understand?”

I got what he was saying. I mean, I wasn’t oblivious to sex. I knew “play” could mean a few things, and it made me nervous and excited at the same time.

He let go of my wrists, and I put my hands on his abdomen and lifted his shirt inch by inch. Logan hovered over me, watching my eyes. I saw him suck in air and close his eyes for a second when my hands crept up his chest then slowly caressed his nipples.

I kept my eyes on him, loving his reaction. Loving how my touch was driving him crazy. My fingertips traced every muscle on his chest then down to his abdomen. Every contour was a new mountain for me to explore. I was panting, and Logan had his eyes closed and was breathing harder than I was.

“Shirt, Logan.” I lifted it upward, and he succumbed to my bribe and threw off his shirt. My hands went to the button on his jeans, and he grabbed my hands and stilled them.

“No. I let you play so you could relax. Now it’s me.” Within seconds he had my shirt up, over my head, and his fingers were working at my bra. The snaps gave, and my breasts fell from their confines into his hands. “Emily.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He lowered his body, and then his tongue circled my nipple while his hands caressed my side, down to my hip then back up again to tease my breasts. My body was exploding with sensations, pain as he bit my nipple, then pleasure as he suckled sweetly and licked the sensitive skin with heated moisture.

I gripped his hair, eyes closed and body arching into him as he sent me into a furnace of heat. Getting myself off to him couldn’t even begin to compete with the real thing.

He moved lower, soft kisses trailing down my chest to my stomach. “This. And this.” He slid his hand to my hip. “I love everything about your body.” His kisses went further, and my body was already anticipating him. Ache was no longer a word associated with what he was doing to me; it was much, much more than that.

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 sexy bedroom 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 kissed 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 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 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. Wide.”

I did that too. I trusted him implicitly and him taking control felt like it was fulfilling a need in me to surrendered 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. “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; seeing 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.

“Eme,” he murmured as my fingers curled around him then stroked every inch of him.

His penis was throbbing and hot, and as I caressed, his eyes closed, and his head tilted back as he groaned.

“Stop. Fuck. I’m going to come before I’m even inside you.” He grabbed his cock and rubbed it between my legs, the wetness clinging to him. “I’ll go slow, Mouse.”

My hand reached up to lock my fingers in his hair. “No, go fast. Just get that part over with.”

“No.” His voice was hard and firm. “You’re going to remember this, and not with pain.” His mouth descended as he sunk lower, his cock nudging my opening.

Wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his back, I pressed upward with my hips, and the tip pressed against my barrier. I couldn’t get him in any further, and my body was aching so bad I was going to scream.

He tore his mouth away from mine and grabbed my chin. “Look at me, Emily. I want to see you when I take you. I want to watch you while you scream my name.”

“Logan.”

He pushed his hips forward and moved in me a little further. I could feel him stretching my hymen, and I was sure he could too. He gripped my chin to make certain I didn’t move then rotated his hips and withdrew, and I moaned.

“Slow, Eme.”

He moved inside me again, and this time he kept going until I felt a sudden sharp pain.

Fuck. Shit. It hurt.

And yet . . . him erect and full inside me was . . . it was so connecting and surreal.

He leaned in and kissed me while he was sunk deep inside. A slow languished kiss that had me forgetting about the pain and instead filling me with a new urgency. I wanted him to move.

“Logan.” God, I needed him to move. I pushed upward, and he sunk even deeper. Yes, God yes.

“You good?”

The tenderness was overridden by the aching need. I nodded, and he began to move. I clenched my legs around him, ankles crossed on his back, both of us panting, our eyes locked on one another.

“You’re mine, Emily.” He moved harder, faster, and I tried to close my eyes, but he grabbed my chin. “Look at me.”

Each push brought us closer; I was on edge, ready, the ache heightened to a place it could go no further. He pressed his hips in an upward motion so he rubbed against my clit, and a jolt went through me, then another and another. The intense building inside was too much.

He pressed harder.