breath moving down my body, a ministration in its own right as he pressed kisses along the way and lingered before he pulled my jeans off, then my underwear. He paused, lifting his head.
I opened my eyes to see him studying the inside of my thigh. I bit my lip, knowing what he saw, and I prepared myself. But when he looked back at me, there was no judgment. He smoothed over my skin and asked, his voice husky, “You have a tattoo?”
I nodded, my throat full with emotion and praying he wouldn’t ask more. “It’s a sparkler.”
“It’s beautiful, Taylor.” He bent and pressed his lips there. “It’s a Goddamn firecracker. Perfect.”
I gasped, my back arching at the shock of his touch. Then he turned his head, moving his mouth to where I ached. As he began to stroke me–kissing, nibbling, licking, and rubbing–his hand grazed over my body from my shoulder to my arm. The side of his hand then brushed against my breast and came to rest on my stomach.
The pleasure was building. The longer he caressed me, the higher my back arched. “Logan!”
He still didn’t stop. A smooth chuckle came from him, sending vibrations through my body, but I was so far gone. I reached down, my fingers sliding into his hair and grabbing hold. He used his tongue now, and I felt a scream building in the back of my throat. It was going to rip from me, so
I sank my teeth into my lip. Then he moved away, and I gasped at the sudden break. But then his lips were on mine as his fingers sank inside of me.
I moaned, unable to keep it in. I’d never been loud during sex, but Logan brought out something new in me. It had never been like this with Eric. There’d been a touch here and there, a hand on the boob, a quick finger pump, and then he’d fill me. He didn’t stretch me, not the way Logan was doing. His finger slid deep before pulling back to go in again. Then a second finger moved with the first, and he kept going. He went deeper than Eric had ever gone, and I was panting.
I grabbed his shoulders, and my nails sank in. He stiffened above me, and I laid my head back on the pillow.
“Oh, no, no, no.” Logan grinned down at me, desire almost palpable on his face. He shook his head, tsking. “If you think you can lay back and just enjoy this, you’re mistaken.”
I stopped biting my lip to grin back up at him. This was new too—laughing, teasing. I was used to silence until Eric was done. I’d get a quick pop of relief, followed by a short, trembling climax, but that was it. Tonight my body glistened with sweat, and I held back from climaxing right now.
Logan looked rested and ready to go all night. “I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” I told him.
“Tomorrow?” He pulled his fingers out and rested, gazing down at me. “You’re going to be sore tonight. I’m going to ride you long and hard until you think the world is only made of sex.” He smirked, arching an eyebrow. “How’s that sound?”
He stole my breath. The way he looked at me—cocky, his eyes full of arousal, and his sole focus on me—he was breathtaking.
I lifted a hand to cup the side of his face, and my finger traced his mouth. “You’re beautiful,” I said.
He didn’t respond, but surprise bloomed over his face. He gazed down as I looked up, and in that moment, a wall slid away. He let me in. I saw the little boy in him, the younger brother, the friend. I saw the protective family member. I already knew the player, joker, and fighter, but this was once again the real Logan.
A wave of emotion rose up in me. I was thankful. I was moved. I felt inspired, followed by a sense of desperation. He’d let me in. He didn’t let anyone in. I needed to prove I was loyal, that I would respect him as he had given me respect, that I was worthy of this gift. I blinked back tears. “Logan,” I said softly.
A different look appeared in his eyes, making them bright and clear, almost awestruck. His eyes fluttered closed, and he bent his head once more. This time the kiss wasn’t just to give pleasure. It was more. It was a message from him to