Tia

 

Logan has made dinner, but I’m not sure I can eat a thing. Then again, I can’t say “Let’s go to bed, first.” I just can’t.

I lean over the kitchen counter, watching him put the finishing touches to his Mediterranean-style chicken. He hands me a glass of white wine. “See if you like that.”

“Mmmh, that’s lovely.”

“Bottle says notes of peach, mango and elderflower. What’s wrong with grape?” He laughs and touches his glass to mine. “Are you hungry? Dinner will keep if you’re not.”

“It smells delicious, but I’m not sure what happened to my appetite… for food.”

“Same thing that happened to mine, I think.” He takes my glass and puts it back down on the counter next to us beside his own.

“I missed you,” he says, kissing me. “I missed you a whole lot.”

I take another sip of my wine. “What are you going to do about it, then?”

“Fuck you. Hard.” His dark eyes twinkle, challenging me.

I gasp. I wasn’t expecting that. Challenge accepted. I put down my glass and peel off my new sweater. Then he lifts off my t-shirt and unclasps my bra. He bends to take one nipple into his hot mouth, and then I gasp as I feel him dribbling a few drops of icy cold wine over the other.

He follows that with his tongue and then his whole mouth. “Peach, mango, elderflower and you. Perfect,” he says. There’s a shiver of anticipation running down my spine that has nothing to do with the chill of the wine.

He turns off the stove and takes my hand, grabbing his wine glass as we go. My heart goes wild. It’s as if I feel the blood pounding through every part of my body, yet I’m hyper aware of my surroundings, too. The soft light in the hall and on the stairs. The stark white cover on Logan’s bed, softened by a tartan throw in blue, lilac and gray, and pale gray walls. Me half naked. The heat from him. My ravaged nipple still slightly sticky from the wine. Warm feelings in my belly. Wetness between my thighs.

Before my brain catches up, he has me fully naked, and I’m lying on his bed. I feel wanton, limp, watching the heat in his eyes as they rake over my body, fully spread open for his viewing pleasure. Nowhere to hide. But then I wouldn’t want to hide if I could.

I just have to do one thing to drive him wild. I take a finger, one of mine this time, and roll my tongue around the tip.

He groans and his clothes go flying this way and that as he fumbles with buttons and zipper to get everything off. And then I get my reward—the first time I see him without his clothes except in my mind.

He’s even better in the flesh. The hardness of his chest, his abs, his arms and the rest of him—impressive. I quake a little. The sheer size of him is going make this… interesting. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom.

“Do I need to use this?” he asks. “It’s been a long time since I didn’t use one, and I’ve been tested since then.”

“I got tested, too.” That was one of the first things I did after I found out about Simon and his extra-curricular pursuits. “I didn’t stop taking the pill either.”

Logan tosses the condom on the floor and joins me on the bed.

“So that thing you’ve been doing with your fingers,” he says.

“Yes…” I grin.

“It can wait.”

I pout. “Why?”

“Because I have other plans for you.” He kisses his way down to my stomach from my throat, stopping to sneak a lick at my nipples. And I giggle, unable to stay still on the bed as he continues down and reaches my mound.

I remember his lips, his tongue on me. I think every cell of my body remembers that. But this time, after bringing me to the edge with his gifted tongue, he grabs his wine where he put it on the nightstand and dribbles the icy coldness between my legs.

It hits the mark and I cry out, spiraling out of control as he sucks at the trail of wine and warms my clit with his mouth.

When I come down from that, he’s leaning over me, his cock nudging at my entrance. I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet, and it’s nothing to do with the wine he spilled.

He slides in with one smooth, perfect movement, thrusting right up inside me, and I feel him everywhere, so full, so deep, the manly scent of him surrounding me. My whole head filled with sensation, with him.

“Okay, baby?” he asks, concern in his face.

“Yes, I’m good,” I moan. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop. Hot and raw, he grinds into me, burying himself deeper and deeper inside me, with long strokes, sending me harder against the bedcovers every time. I hear moans from my own throat, the loud smack of flesh against flesh, his voice rough with arousal, urging me on. “Come for me.”

His words like a match to dynamite, I don’t need urging, my hips meeting his with every thrust, eager for more of him, bringing me closer and closer on a wave of pleasure that builds and takes over my whole body as another orgasm crashes over me, leaving me a shuddering wreck as I clench around him.

He stops a moment, his jaw tight with the effort, and then he looks down at me, with a knowing smile, and plunges back in, driving into me relentlessly, over and over until we both lose all control, and he releases inside me as I come again.

He pulls the throw over us, and as we catch our breath, I lie against his broad chest, his arm looped around my waist, holding me close to him, his mouth nuzzling my hair. I feel enveloped in his arms, trying to register all that just happened in his bed. But I can’t compute. I’m not sure I’ll ever want to move again, and we slip into sleep.