My fingers dance along her body, all the way up, and all the way back down until her hips are moving of their own volition. Even though I know she’s not really sleeping, she’s playing the part well.
More moans fall free from her lips, and I lean in to press my mouth to hers. The heat, the contact sizzles, and soon enough, I’m licking into her warmth, tasting her once more and like a drug. My body prickles from head to toe, wanting another hit, and another.
Her eyes snap open when I pull away, my hand leaving her body, my mouth unlocking from hers. Those beautiful eyes that shimmer like jewels in the sunshine meet mine. For a long moment, I’m sure she’s about to tell me to let her go, to leave her the fuck alone because I’m a perverse psychopath, but she doesn’t. Instead, she whispers, “I want more.”
17
Vera
He stares at me.
He doesn’t move. I’m sure he’s not even breathing as he watches me. I can’t believe how wet I am. I’m turned on, more than I’ve ever been before. No matter the strangeness of the situation, I crave it—what he has to offer.
He slowly moves closer, and I know this is new to him, being with someone while they’re awake, but I take it upon myself to reach for him. My hand grazes over the thick denim material, feeling his rigidness behind the zipper.
“I can’t, Vera,” he tells me, his voice taut with emotion. There’s a strain in his expression, creasing his ruggedly handsome face. “I just can’t. Not yet.” Not yet. That’s all I needed to know. And the more I touch him, the softer he gets, and I realize it’s because my eyes are on him. As if he’s worried about me seeing him like that, in a state of pleasure.
“Have you ever touched yourself for a girl?” I ask the question that’s suddenly burst into my mind. I don’t know why I think it, but for some reason, I think he’s convinced himself that if he was with someone, naked, he’d be vulnerable. And the fear of that has taken hold of him.
Not some stupid curse.
But his own mindset.
“No,” he grits out as I continue trailing my fingers over his body. Every hard ridge of muscle on his stomach, the way his hips taper from the broadness of his shoulders makes me want to explore him.
“I want to try something,” I tell him. “Will you allow me to?” He nods slowly, his dark gaze locked on mine. He doesn’t look at my hands moving over him, and I slowly unbutton his plaid shirt, pushing it over his shoulders. The material falls to the floor, and he’s now bared to me. The ink that adorns his chest is a colorful canvas of artwork which I tentatively touch.
The smoothness of his skin under my fingers causes sparks to shoot through me. He doesn’t make a move to stop me, so I lean in farther and plant a kiss to his left pectoral muscle, then the right. My mouth flutters over his torso down toward his stomach, where I do what I’ve been dying to. I trace the dips of his abs with my tongue.
A growl vibrates through him at the cool wetness of me. When I reach the waistband of his jeans, I move quickly to undo the belt buckle, then the button and zipper before pushing the material down. His boxer briefs are dark blue, and I tug at them until they’re at his thick thighs.
I don’t look at him when I take his heavy cock in my hand and slowly stroke it. I close my eyes, focusing on the task at hand, and I lie so still, holding my breath, which seems to work because I feel the twitch in his shaft and the smooth, velvety flesh slowly hardens in my palm.
“Vera,” Logan growls, low and demanding. I ignore him and continue taunting him, seducing him. I’m new to this, unsure of what I’m doing, but I know I’m having the desired effect on him because seconds later, Logan’s fingers tangle in my hair as he tugs my head back. “I’m going to hurt you.” His pained words fall around me, surrounding me in the darkness, he’s promising.
Logan pushes me back onto the bed, and in a flash of movement, he’s hovering over me. His body taut with unrestrained desire. His cock nudges my core, causing me to whimper at the thought of him inside me.
“Do you want that?” he growls over my lips, his mouth brushing along mine, and the heat of his breath wafts over me. He’s all darkness and sin, and I drink him in, the broken man that’s mine. I realize in that moment Logan Oakridge is mine.
I nod.
I nod with all I have and all that I am because I do want it.
His large hand wraps around the slender column of my neck, and he squeezes. The way his fingers dig into the sides of my neck cuts off my breathing. My lungs work hard, but they can’t pull in much-needed air.
Dark eyes burn into me. Stars dot my vision. My lips part and Logan steals them, kissing me hard and furious. His tongue licks along my lower lip before he pulls it into his mouth and bites down hard on the plump flesh.
A mewl of pained agony tumbles from my mouth to his, and he swallows it just like he’s taking my breath. He doesn’t release me when he reaches between us and circles my clit with his fingers. The taunting, teasing touch of his fingers graze over me, sending spirals of white-hot pleasure burning through me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
Pain and pleasure swirl together in the darkness as I feel myself falling into the abyss, but I don’t fight him. I allow him to give me pleasure while taking his own, and just as my eyes fall closed and I no longer see him before me, a wave of pure, unfiltered pleasure shoots through me so violently I shudder and shake beneath him, and the heat of his orgasm splashes against my skin.
That’s the last thing I feel before I finally pass out.
My eyes open to warmth holding me hostage. It’s only when I attempt to roll over that I realize I can’t. There’s a heavy arm draped over me. A large hand is cupping my breast, holding me against a hard, muscled body.
“I’m sorry,” Logan whispers. “I lost control. I hurt you, and I’m just so fucking sorry.” His words wash over me as the memory returns. He held me down, he made me come, and I passed out from the orgasm.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I tell him, but I can’t see his expression because my back is cocooned to his front. “I was just overwhelmed by the orgasm.”
“Don’t fucking make excuses for me,” he grits out. He’s angry, but it’s all at himself, not me. “I should never have tried this.” There’s so much agony in his voice; it makes my chest tighten painfully.
“I’m not making excuses, Logan. I asked you for more, and you gave it to me. I wanted it,” I insist. “Nothing you did hurt me.” I force myself to roll over, and I finally come face to face with him. The guilt is written all over his face. He’s looking at me with so much sadness my heart thuds against my ribs.
“It will never happen again,” he tells me before pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, and then he pushes off the bed and heads for the door.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
He doesn’t turn around. Instead, he grips the door handle and twists it, pulling the door open and walking out into the hallway. “Time for me to finish this so I can send you home, and you can live your life like I knew you should—without me.” And then he shuts the door with a loud bang, and suddenly I’m all alone.