Blow(70)

He groaned, and that was when his hands slid down from my breasts to my hips to inside the waistband of my pants. He didn’t take them off right away and although I wanted him to, I didn’t want his mouth to leave mine either.

Luckily, it didn’t have to.

He somehow knew what I needed and his palm pressed against my clit on the outside of my panties. Again, I writhed beneath him. I’d never felt this sexually charged. I was thirty years old, a self-proclaimed sexually repressed adult, and I was melting beneath this man like a sex-starved teenager.

Soon, I was reduced to nothing but a body of tingling nerve endings. The way his fingers slid inside my panties and found my slick heat electrified me from head to toe. He knew what he was doing, though; he took his time, teasing me, gliding up to caress my clit and back down.

Over and over.

He remained quiet except for the sounds of sucking in a breath and a few groans.

I’m not sure if he read my signs or didn’t want to talk because he feared waking Clementine, but either way, I was glad for it.

This was far too enjoyable to end. In truth, I’m not sure I could end it.

Breathless, I moved my hands to his bare shoulders and slid my tongue down his throat, and just like he had, I pulled his skin between my teeth. I might have been rougher, he might have a mark—I wasn’t sure. I just couldn’t control myself.

His responding groan told me he was burning just like I was, and his body language told me not to stop, so I didn’t. Not until I had to. Not until I couldn’t focus on anything but his fingers dipping inside me. The way it felt when he slid them in and out. The circling of his thumb, the movement of his hand, the wetness I could feel dripping onto my panties.

I couldn’t believe it but I was going to come—like this—beneath him, with our pants on and his hands inside my panties. Oh, yes, I was going to come, right now. I didn’t do this. I hardly ever came from a man’s touch alone. It took moving mountains, hours of men trying, to make me come. Yet I was already tipping over the edge.

Sensation after delicious sensation was all I could feel. And they were coming one after the other, fast and furious. So much so that my fingernails dug into his skin as dizzying amounts of pleasure surrounded me. Logan didn’t stop. He kept the pace up and I rode his hand.

And then I completely shattered, biting my lip to stifle my cries as my clit spasmed over and over, each spark of pleasure causing me to cry out.

Logan kissed my neck and slowed his fingers as my body shuddered beneath him. When my grip on him let up, he cupped me as he had in the beginning, his palm pressed tight to my sex.

My body was limp and sated. I felt amazing, but then I made the mistake of thinking how I’d never enjoyed a man making me come like I just had. The thought caused me to freak out a little.

Was I now going to be a sex addict like my father?

I tried to catch my breath but couldn’t at first. When Logan went to kiss me, I turned my head and his mouth landed on my cheek. Mine landed in the crook of his neck. Since his eyes were closed, I’m certain he thought it was just mechanics.

With a deep inhale, I caught his scent and immediately started breathing more steadily. He calmed me without even knowing it and wanting more of him, I moved my mouth to find his. I wanted to lose myself in him again.

Even though my body was limp and languid, his lips on mine were all I needed to restoke that fire that was already burning within me. Not only did I want to feel more of what I’d just felt, I wanted Logan to feel the exact same thing. The idea of give and take was what stopped me from thinking what my mind had just been skating around.

With desperate urgency, I found his pants and unzipped them. He helped me out again by shoving them down. When he stood before me in only his black boxer briefs, my arousal escalated to an alarming level.

I needed to touch him.

There.

My fingers grazed along the outside of the soft fabric and he was long and full. I just had to see him. With a prowess I had only ever made myself exhibit in the past, I eased off those Calvin Kleins. I was doing this willingly. My sexual interest in Logan was anything but forced. In fact, I had to take a moment to admire him. The leanness of his body didn’t reflect the fullness of his cock. I wanted him.

Sex was next on the table. It was a fact. Since my limbs were no longer in a Jell-O-like state, I reached for him and stroked him up and down. He was silky soft and really hard. Logan made a noise and I looked up. As soon as our eyes collided, he dropped his mouth to my ear. His voice was tight, low, and thick with need when he whispered, “Let’s get your pants off.”

I couldn’t have wanted anything more.

He said nothing more—I was glad. I wasn’t sure what I’d have done if he had. That’s not true. I would have stayed, because that one glimpse into his eyes told me everything I needed to know. It was an odd mix of emotions I saw there—fear and lust, maybe. Whatever it was, it was enough to make me want to understand him.

Without hesitation, as soon as I stood, he moved behind me and slid my pants down. I shuddered the entire time his hands glided over my hips and down my thighs. When my pants and panties were off, he blew a warm breath in my ear and kissed my neck. I shuddered again. Something about the intimacy of the way he kissed my neck had my stomach fluttering. If I were romantic, which I am not, I’d say that although he was bold with his body, to the point of being unfaltering, he was almost tender, sweet even, with his mouth. It was that whole hot/cold, hard/soft thing I’d pegged him with last night.