Riding the Sugar High: a Grumpy Sunshine Romantic Comedy

23. Make My Whole Body Tingle

“Wait, what?”

His shoulders square as if he’s preparing himself for my attack. “The documents aren’t signed yet, but I saw Tom today and accepted the offer. It’s done.”

I swallow, but my mouth has gone dry.

Is this why we’re here? I figured he wanted to remind himself what he’s fighting for. Or that he came here because something happened, and the farm is what brings him the most comfort. Is it goodbye?

“You can’t sell the farm,” I mumble. It’s pointless to say—he can do what he wants. But I’ve got no clever ace up my sleeve to make him change his mind, no inspiring speech to deliver that’ll make him give this another chance; only my heartbreak and his, painfully present in this idyllic place.

He looks in the distance, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Primrose, this farm is...is part of me. It’s my legacy, my home, my passion. But there’s nothing that counts more than the lives of everyone involved.”

I slowly shake my head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Selling a farm isn’t an easy feat, Barbie, and if I wait to sell and don’t find someone willing to buy, what happens then?” He shrugs. “I’d have to declare bankruptcy. I wouldn’t be able to pay wages or insurance. You know Simon has a one-year-old? And Nadia, our accountant, has asthma and relies on us for health insurance. And Lou’s wife needs monthly treatments at the hospital.”

“But it won’t get to that point, Logan,” I say, though, really, how do I know? I’m asking him to put his faith in me, but we both know there’s no guarantees.

“And that’s only part of it. What happens to the animals if I fail? Or if I’m forced into a last-minute sale?” He rubs a hand over his face, the veins in his neck straining against his skin. “This will give me the time and money to relocate them. Make sure they’re safe and don’t end up—” He swallows. “It’s the right thing to do. The responsible choice.”

I scoot closer, then wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug. We sit in silence, the leaves of the trees around us rustling. The buzzing of crickets grows louder, almost deafening. The world moves forward as if nothing’s happened, while Logan loses everything.

And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

His forehead falls against my shoulder, and I press a hand to his back. If I could only scoop up some of his pain, some of the toxic black sludge in his soul, and throw it off this hill. If I could comfort or reassure him or know what magic words would fix this.

“I don’t know what I am anymore,” he whispers, and his words are so charged with anguish that my nose and eyes sting. “This is all I know how to do. All I’ve ever done. Who am I without the farm?”

“You’re more than your farm, Logan,” I whisper back. I try to break away from the hug to look at his face, but he strengthens his hold. “You’re so caring, empathetic, and selfless that you’d give up something important to you to ensure everyone else is safe and sound.”

“I’ll never see any of them again.”

“What?” I pull him even closer. “Of course you will. Your friends and co-workers won’t ghost you because of this. They all love you, they?—”

“The animals. I’ll never see Paco and Lola again. Never see Tessa and Penelope and...” His voice is softer than a whisper. “I’ll never see any of them again.”

God, I can’t breathe, the pain crushing my lungs and robbing them of any space for oxygen. He’s hurting. I can’t even pretend to understand how much, but I can see it, feel it.

“Please, give me a chance to help you fix it.”

He straightens, clearing his throat as if that’s also going to shake the pain away, then stares at the ground with a cold look. “I’m out of time, Primrose. You’re leaving in five days. It’s done.”

“But you haven’t signed the documents yet, and the Kyle’s picture performed so well—seven calls in one day! If we continue like this?—”

“It’s not enough.”

“But it could be,” I insist, rising to my knees. “We could try new things, and?—”

His hand squeezes mine. “Barbie.”

My heart beats frantically against my ribcage. There must be something that could buy us time, some way I could convince him not to sell. “What if...I’ll lend you some money.”

His brows scrunch. “What? Absolutely not.”

“It’s fine,” I rush to say. “I have some savings. And my parents—I could ask?—”

He lets my hand go, and squaring his shoulders, he glares. “This is not why I told you any of this.” He stands, then brushes his hands together. “And there isn’t a chance in the world I’m going to accept money from you. Let alone get you into debt with your family.”

I stand too, rushing after him when he walks to the bike. “But it wouldn’t be a big deal. You’d pay me back. All we need is some time to?—”

“No, Barbie.”

“We could try other things, then. The farmer’s market went well, and you got a permanent spot, and?—”

He breathes out, leaning against the bike with both hands. “Barbie.”

“Your brother—he offered you money. We could...”

He holds out the helmet, but I cross my arms, and with a sigh, he lowers it.

“Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“This has nothing to do with pushing you away.”

Doesn’t it, though? I know for a fact that Kyle and Simon offered to stop cashing their checks for a while. I’ve seen him refuse his brother”s help, and he doesn’t want me to promote him—nor will he take my money. He is pushing everyone away. “There’s nothing wrong in accepting help, Logan.”

“God—I said I don’t want to talk about it, Barbie.”

“Well, tough luck.” I step closer, pushing my chin up in challenge. “We are talking about it.”

He sets the helmet on the bike, then drags a hand over his face before facing me again. Though I expect the usual aggravated expression, he smiles down at me with an atypical warmth. Well, I guess it’s starting to be typical.

“What?” I ask, my own lips lifting.

“Just...you.”

My cheeks burn, and struggling to focus, I mumble, “I...you—you’re changing the topic.”

“I’m not.” He takes a step closer, my shoulder bunching when he invades my space. “But we could talk about it later. Do something else now instead.”

I sheepishly glance at him. Though the answer feels pretty obvious, I’ll ask anyway. “Do what?”

He closes the distance between us and cups my face, his lips pressing against mine with no hesitation. It”s like a spark igniting a wildfire within me. I melt into him, my hands instinctively reaching up to grasp his broad shoulders, anchoring myself to him as if afraid he might disappear.

“Let’s go home,” he mumbles on my lips as his forehead presses on mine. “And I’ll show you.”

Oh. My stomach twists, a mix of apprehension and excitement coursing through my veins. Grabbing my helmet, I smile. “Let’s see how many speed limits you can break.”

* * *

As I straddle the sleek leather seat behind him, I feel a surge of adrenaline course through my veins. The powerful engine roars to life beneath us, vibrating with untamed energy and eager to devour the open road. I wrap my arms around his waist, holding on tight as he revs the throttle, the intoxicating scent of gasoline mingling with the crisp night air.

Shifting my hands from the tank to his jeans, I lean into the feeling of comfort. I rub until one of his hands joins mine, and with the other one, I keep massaging, then mindlessly dip to his inner thigh.

He squirms, then grabs it and leads it over his stiff erection, and though I’ve already felt it against my ass only a few days ago, I’m once again stunned at his dimension. And I’m pretty sure this is a “look what you’ve done” rather than an invitation to continue, but I take advantage of the confused message and press a hand over his shaft.

Yep, it’s huge. And so hard.

He gently grasps my hand and sets it on his thigh, but as soon as we come to a red light, I rub his inner thigh, then his dick again.

Shoulders hunching, he leans forward. I think I hear him groan, but once the light is green and the one car behind us honks, he gives gas, and we begin riding.

Merely a minute later, after unsuccessfully shoving my hand away one more time, he slows to a stop, and I feel the bike come to a gentle halt beneath us. With a sense of anticipation tingling in the air, I watch him kill the off-switch.

“Is everything okay?” I ask innocently when he pulls the helmet off.

He chuckles, his gaze meeting mine over his shoulder. He stopped somewhere along the road leading to his farm, and there are nothing but fields on either side of us. Everything is utterly silent, too, the only background noise provided by the chirping of birds.

“You don’t want to fuck around with me, Barbie.”

“Don’t I?”

“No, you don’t.” Kickstand in place, he dismounts. He unclasps my helmet and pulls it off me, and once I see the hungry look in his eyes, I feel like my chest could burst. Like I’ve been inflated with sweet, sweet air and now I’m close to floating away.

Hooking my helmet to the handlebar, he sits again, facing me. His forehead presses against mine as he whispers, “You’re playing with fire.”

“I’ve been known to do that at times.”

His hands run up my thighs, pulling up my skirt in the process. “No kidding.”

God, I want him. Right now. I’ve wanted him so badly since the day I met him, and I don’t think I can wait another second.

His lips crash against mine, and I move my hand between us and begin undoing the button of his jeans until he interrupts our kiss. His eyes dart from my eyes to my hands. “Here? Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” I whisper. He tilts his head so he can have better access to my neck, and I squeeze my eyes shut to concentrate. But I have no hope to, especially as his fingers slide up and down against my opening and turn slick with my wetness.

I whimper when he fits them inside me, and he watches me close my eyes and exhale.

“Please, Logan,” I whine. “I can’t wait anymore. Just fuck me.”

“Look at the size of me, Barbie. If I just fuck you, I break you,” he says softly. It makes me clench around him, which should be a clear sign of how much I want him to break me. “Let me get you ready.”

I nod, biting my bottom lip as his fingers push and pull, stretch and curl. My hips grind, roll, an orgasm orbiting closer and closer, until short of begging, I look into his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes out. He stands and shucks off his jeans, then folds my legs up so they’re against my chest. “Shit,” he says with wide eyes as he meets my gaze. “I don’t have condoms.”

“I’ve been tested after Derek.”

He swallows. “So have I after...my ex.”

I give him an encouraging nod, my heart thrumming as he drags the tip of his cock along my entrance. He rubs it up and down, his eyes rolling back. “Fuck, Barbie. If you come on my bike, you’re mine. Do you understand?”

I feel his tip against me, and breath catching, I nod.

“I want to hear you say it. Say you understand that if I fuck my backpack on my bike, I’m not sharing it.” He teases my entrance but doesn’t push. “You’re only mine.”

“Whose else would I be?” I whisper. It might not be the right thing to say, but it’s the truth, and it makes his eyes grow darker as he stares down at me. “I’m already only yours.”

With a deep groan, he pushes against the resistance of my muscles. I gasp, stretching around him as the sting makes way for pleasure, and inch after slow, painless inch, he buries himself inside me.

“Oh...my...god...” I breathe. I clench around him, over and over again, as his eyes flutter.

“Stop—stop doing—oh, that.”

“I can’t help it,” I squeak. I really can’t. I feel everything. Every inch of him, every twitch, every pulse. My fingers are buried in his muscular arms, my eyes lost in his. “You’re huge.”

His lips are parted, his brows bent. He halts, letting me adjust to him, then begins gently rocking into me. Within a handful of seconds, he moans and drops his face to mine, forehead to forehead. “God, Primrose. You keep squeezing me like that, and I’ll embarrass myself.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. It’s hard to talk, hard to focus on anything at all but the feeling of him inside me. It’s better than anything I’ve ever experienced. “It’s perfect.”

“Can you take more?”

“More! There’s more?”

He nods, eyes closed as if he’s trying his best to restrain himself. “Yeah. There’s more.”

Holy shit. I look down, but I can’t see just how much we’re talking about.

“Yes, I can.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, but even before I answer I feel him slide a bit deeper, his lips twisting before his jaw sets. “God, yes. Sorry. It feels so good—you. You feel...” His breath shakes out of his lips. “I fit so well inside you, Barbie.”

I wrap my legs around his ass, pulling him until he’s to the hilt. Until I can’t imagine myself without Logan pressed on top of me.

“Primrose.” He grits his teeth hard and sets a rhythm that evolves from stuttering to smooth and has me mewling and arching and whimpering on his bike. I can’t imagine we’ll be able to fully let ourselves go, not on here, not as hard as either of us needs, but he surprises me as he says, “I’m really going to fuck you now. Okay?”

I can barely nod.

His pace picks up, and every time he rubs that spot inside me, I moan louder. It doesn’t hurt at all; it’s euphoric. The highest I’ve ever felt. Better than all the sugar in this world.

“You can’t feel this good, Barbie. It’s not”—his eyes roll to the back of his head—“oh, shit, it’s not possible.”

I scratch at his arms, my knees hitting my boobs every time he pushes forward. He’s got me all folded up for him, and watching his expression break every time he sinks inside makes me feel so powerful.

He needs me. He’s trying so hard, the veins in his neck are strained against the reddened skin, but he needs to come, and I can help him.

“Come,” I whisper through another push. His eyes meet mine in an expression that’s half anguish and half delight. “Let yourself go, Logan.”

“No, I can do it.” He pulls back, then in again, his hands squeezing the bike seat on either side of my face. “I can do it. I can do it.” At the next push, he grimaces, shaking his head. “I can’t do it.”

“Logan, please,” I insist. I grab a handful of his hair and use it to pull his face closer. “Fill me up.”

Goosebumps spread across my skin as he kisses me hard and fast. “Don’t say that.”

“I want to feel it dripping out of me.”

“Stop talking,” he pleads as his hips buck forward and he bottoms out.

“Show me I’m yours,” I insist, my voice trembling as my back arches. “Please, cowboy.”

With a grunt, he slows down, his movements stuttering until his jaw clenches. “I’m coming, Primrose. I—” He gasps, his eyes widening as if he wasn’t prepared for the pleasure that’s hitting him. “Should I—p-pull out?”

When I shake my head, he drives deeper into me, finally letting go as he releases one loud, feral moan after the other. “Oh—your cunt—god—” He spears his tongue into my mouth as his cock twitches, spurting his pleasure inside me. He whimpers—whimpers—as his hand grips my hip in a tight hold. Then his head falls next to mine, and slowly, I feel his orgasm trickle out of me.

He breathes hard, his whole body resting on mine and his hips jerking as if he wants to bury himself even deeper.

I’ve never seen anyone come this hard.

Twisting my neck, I kiss the side of his head as he catches his breath. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he whispers. His hand rubs my side, and he kisses my shoulder. “Are you?”

“Yes.” More than okay. I feel wanted. I feel sexy and lusted over. I feel his need for me tingle through every inch of my skin.

His chest rises, and looking down between us, he pulls out, then back in again slowly. “I’m not going to stop,” he says as he continues thrusting. Is he still hard? Hard again? I have no idea, but this is the first time a man has come inside me, and feeling his cock push against the cum till it spills out...I groan and writhe against him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he mumbles. His finger circles my clit, and when I squeeze him, his rhythm picks up. He reaches back, then with one hand only, slides his helmet on. “I want you to see how pretty you look when I bottom out inside you.”

I breathe as he pulls his visor down, every nerve in me firing up. My eyes are bluer than normal as they stare back at me through the reflective surface, my cheeks red and my mouth open in surprised delight.

He sinks in roughly, and I force my eyes to untwist to watch my breath catch, my chest rising sharply.

“You see now, Barbie?” he says. “I’ve pictured what you’d look like pressed underneath me for close to two weeks, and not even in my filthiest fantasies would I have imagined this.”

He pulls back, then rams in again, a moan slipping out of me as my nails sink into his arms.

“Isn’t it perfect?” He fucks hard and slow. “Aren’t. You. Perfect?” he continues, each word accompanied by a new snap of his hips.

“Harder.” I almost can’t speak, the words dragging out of my lips, exacerbated by desperation and need. “Fuck me harder.” His cock slides in and out, hits all my nerves, and yet I need more.

“Harder, huh?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his weight on one hand. “You might just be made for me, Barbie.”

With a long, low hum, I nod frantically.

Still punishingly thrusting into me, but at an excruciatingly slow pace, he says, “Ask nicely.”

I grab the hair at his nape and grind my teeth as the pleasure intensifies. “Please, fuck me harder.”

He holds my legs over his shoulder, and I relish the delicious stretch as his rhythm picks up. “How am I not breaking you?” he breathes, each of his motions landing with a loud thump of his body on mine, a pleasure I can’t put into words.

He should be breaking me. He’s thrusting so hard, I should be crying out in pain. But the strength of it just makes it better, makes me want to do it all day long.

“Oh my god!” Heat zips to the pit of my stomach, pleasure exploding like fireworks in the back of my mind. “Logan—Logan!”

Tears spill down the sides of my face as the orgasm rolls through me. I clench again and again, like it’ll never end. Like this is the peak of my life.

His thrusts falter, his hands tightening on my hips. “Do you want my cum again, little backpack?”

“Please, yes,” I whimper through the last echoes of my orgasm.

He groans, his cock sliding in and out of me harder and faster, and reaching forward, I pull his visor up. “Barbie,” he whines. “This is my cunt. My—” The most delectable expression falls upon his face as his eyes bore into mine and he pours his moans out.

When his body relaxes, he gently sets my legs down and smooths the hair beside my face, then pulls out. One side of his lips lifts as he removes his helmet. “You should see what a mess I made of you,” he says with a sigh.

“I can feel it.”

He adjusts my panties, then holds his hand forward and pulls me up. His lips meet mine, and it feels like he kisses me for hours, though it’s probably minutes. Like I could continue for days.

“You have a tissue on you?”

I fish into my bag, then take one out, and as he uses it to clean up the bike, I cock a brow. “Really? That’s what needs cleaning up?”

He glances down at the paper, then at me. “Yes.” Then, he presses a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll clean you up. At home.” The next peck lands on my jaw. “I want my backpack to ride home stuffed with my cum.”

“Oh—kay.” Heat rises to my cheeks, and he blows a breath against my neck, then lifts his sleeve to show me the spot where I clawed at him, and the scraping of my nails left a red mark. “Maybe you’re ready for me to break you after all.”

“Oops,” I whisper. I press my lips tight, and with a dark chuckle, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Primrose...you know why I’d never date you?”

“No,” I say, souring lightly as I prepare for his quip.

But then he looks at me, eyes deeper than a well, the shadow of a smile that’s so tender, it’s nearly too intimate. Slowly shaking his head, he tucks my hair behind my ear and whispers, “Me neither.”