The What If Guy - Lauren Blakely Page 0,59

because he’s stripping me with speed and finesse, yanking off my leggings, shedding my top, and jerking off my bra while I toe off my shoes and socks. His jeans come off next, then his boxers, and my mouth waters as I stare at his hard cock, thick and pulsing.

He climbs up on the bed, his eyes flaring with desire as he straddles me, then moves higher.

And higher still.

My lips part, and I breathe out hard, not knowing what’s coming but wanting it anyway.

“Push those beauties together,” he says, staring at my breasts.

A blast of heat tears through my body as I oblige, creating a warm, dark tunnel for his dick. He slides between them, and I push them closer, tighter. “Fuck, Bryn. Your tits are fantastic,” he grunts as he strokes his cock between them.

Arching my hips, I murmur, “Fuck them harder.”

The man needs no direction. He goes to town on my chest, pumping and stroking and growling.

I didn’t come here expecting this, but somehow, it’s the perfect foreplay. Like he knows what it means to me. Like he knows that I want this choice for my body to be sexy to him. I might have made this decision for me, but I relish knowing the result rocks his world too.

And he shows me with the way he thrusts and fucks and shudders.

Then he freezes, going still. His hand goes to the base of his cock, and he squeezes, his eyes locking with mine, mischief in them. “Don’t want to fire too soon.”

I smile too, laughing even while I’m insanely aroused. “Definitely don’t want that.”

“Next time, I’m going to fuck your tits till I come all over your chest.”

Heat rushes through my body. “I like the sound of that. All of it. Especially . . . next time.”

“We are going to fuck so many times, Bryn. But this time,” he says, moving down my body, grabbing my panties as he goes and sliding them off, “you need to get on your hands and knees.”

I grin wickedly. “Gladly.”

I shift around. Logan moves behind me and presses a hand to the middle of my back. “Need you lower. Arms stretched all the way out, face on the bed. Need to fuck you hard.”

Sparks radiate across my entire body as pleasure floods every cell, and my core grows wetter. “God, yes. Please.”

He moves behind me, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. I weigh my next words carefully. They speak volumes. But I trust him, so I give them voice.

“I’m on protection. And I’m clean,” I say, turning to look at him.

A tender smile spreads across his face, and he glides a gentle hand down my back. “Me too. Clean, that is. You’re the only one I’ve been with since . . .”

“Same,” I admit, finishing the sentence. “Same for me.”

“I want to feel you gripping me. Want you bare.”

I swallow roughly. “I want that too.”

He moves behind me, kneeling, spreading my cheeks, opening me. “Oh, sweetheart. Look at you. So fucking wet for me.”

I rock my hips, desperate, begging to be filled. “Please fuck me.”

He shakes his head as he lines up his cock against my wetness, rubbing the tip against me. “I’m not going to fuck you,” he says, all low and smoky.

My brow knits. “You’re not?”

“Not at all,” he says, sliding the head against me, making me moan like a wanton woman. He pushes in, and I gasp, rocking back, greedily trying to draw him in farther. “I’m going to fuck you and,” he murmurs, pushing deeper, sliding into all my wetness as I shudder, “I’m going to make love to you.”

His words, his twin expressions of desire and adoration, send me flying. “Yes, please. I want that. Want you. Want it all.”

He bottoms out, filling me. I rock back and squeeze my eyes shut, desire overcoming me.

And he’s off, fucking me hard, ruthlessly. He’s demanding, driving deep, squeezing my ass, gripping my hips. He tugs my hair, making me yelp at the same time as I cry out from how hard he’s fucking me. He eases back, lifting a hand to swat my ass, then sinks right back inside me again.

I scream in pleasure.

He’s relentless as he fucks me savagely, pumping and thrusting, smacking and pulling and taking.

The whole time, he talks to me.

So fucking good.

You like that?

You want it harder?

I can barely move, and I love it. I can’t think, and I’m ecstatic. I don’t have to do anything but consume and be devoured.

And that’s how he fucks