Torn from You

He was dead serious, and it sent a strange thrill through me. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted him here and now with the wind against my skin, being in my favorite place in the world with Sculpt. “I don’t want to wait.”



His hand swept into my hair and weaved through the strands. His fingers tightened, and he pulled back, and my breath hitched. “I’m tasting your pussy. Then Emily, I’m going to fuck you until you scream. Does that make you nervous? Because you’re trembling all over.”



“Yeah,” I whispered.



“Yeah, nervous? Or yeah you’re going to scream when I sink inside of you for the first time?”



“Yeah, to all of it.” I’d wanted Sculpt since the night I met him. Needed him. It was like I had been living with anticipation for this moment my entire life. It scared the hell out me. What if I sucked at it? What if we were incompatible? What if it was awkward?



“I want you screaming and quivering. And baby, you should be nervous ... because I plan on changing your mind and having you begging me to take you on tour.” The corners of his lips twitched, and my insides lit up like a goddamn firecracker. I couldn’t help but think about what he could do to me, how I’d say goodbye when it was time for him to leave. “You’re Lego building, Emily. Rethinking your decision?”



I jerked and met his eyes. There it was—his eyes dancing with laughter and desire, a sexy combination that had me tightening my grip on his biceps.



He didn’t wait for my reply. “Too late, Mouse. You’re mine.”



He tilted his head like he always did before he kissed me, and claimed my lips. And he did claim, devour, and feed the hunger we both felt between us. Heat flowed over my skin as if the afternoon sun was beaming down on it. Little sparks tap-danced shivers through my body. There was no hesitation in what he was taking, what he wanted, and I fell into his kiss like melted butter.



His hands stroked up my sides then down again. “God, these curves.”



He groaned, and the vibration sent my heart rate spiking. My hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer, harder. God, I needed him. It was like I was breathing for this man. It wasn’t normal. Was this normal? Did it matter?



“Sculpt.”



He took my hands and placed them above my head, locking them down with his own. “Logan. Call me Logan, Eme.”



Oh God. His name. He told me his real name. No one knew his real name. “Logan,” I said and heard him groan.



“Again.”



“Logan.”



His lips trailed succulent kisses down my throat, his teeth nipping, then his tongue licking to take away the bite. “I want you to call me that whenever we’re alone, Emily. Call me Logan.”



“Okay.” It was a whispered moan mixed with a sigh. Eyes closed, head thrown back, I edged my legs out from under him on either side and wrapped them around his hips. He grunted as I clenched, hoping to ease the ache, but all I did was make it more intense. More aware.



“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 over the last couple months 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 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.”