31. Let Himself Go With Me
I standat the threshold of the guest bedroom. I haven’t seen Logan in nearly twenty-four hours and haven’t taken a break since. There was just so much to do. Yesterday went by in a haze between the comments and messages asking for information about the farm and the phone buzzing nonstop until late at night. Today, Kyle came to find me and told me that they’re running out of produce.
Out of produce.
I still can’t believe it, but Logan has been working on finding delivery companies, packaging materials, and extra arms to work in the fields—everything to meet this rapid and sudden increase in demand. At some point this morning, I was instructed to send any potential customer to a vegan farm a few hours away.
Everything is different now.
Logan already has his brother’s money but won’t be forced to use it anymore. Our kiss changed his life—and the lives of everyone on this farm, myself included.
As it turns out, people are fickle, and now that I’m no longer the weird candy lady obsessed with my ex, I’m back in the public’s grace. Which is good, since social media will remain my source of income for the time being. Now, if I could only figure out what will happen between me and Logan once I leave in two days...
I should tell him about Marisol, but I haven’t had the time. And to be honest, I’m terrified that once he knows I have no real reason to force me to go, he won’t ask me to stay.
Maybe he wants his house back—his privacy.
With a sigh, I grab my phone from the bedside table. The notifications keep rolling in—last time I checked, the recording of our live had twenty million views.
Logan’s bike roars in the distance, and with a squeak, I check the time. Kyle told me I had at least one more hour before Logan would show up—what is he doing here?
I throw one last look in the mirror and dart out of the room. I look like a child wearing her parents’ clothes with his jacket on, but the fact that I’m wearing nothing underneath might help crank up the sexiness.
I hope so, at least, because I know Logan has been somewhat holding off due to my inexperience. I’m dead set on pissing him off and find out just how much.
I pull it over my breasts as I walk to his bedroom, then face the door and cross my legs in front of me. He’s always talking about my thighs, so that’s the first thing I want him to notice. My naked thighs under the black leathery fabric of his jacket.
The engine noise grows louder until it stops, and a few seconds later, I hear his steps on the porch.
He’ll be proud of me—hell, I’m proud of myself. And sure, he used to hate it when I wore his clothes, but things were different back then, and I think knowing what it feels like to squeeze his ass while he fucks my throat gives me a certain kind of right.
The door opens, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. Sweat dampens my back as self-doubt makes me swallow nervously. Neither of us slept last night, so he might be too tired for this.
What if he doesn’t take it as the playful show of disobedience I’m aiming for? What if he just gets mad?
“Hello?” he calls from the entrance.
“H-hey,” I say back.
Come on, Prim. Confidence. What’s done is done, so I might as well own it.
“Where are you?”
Oh my god, I’ll have a heart attack if he doesn’t just come in and see me. “Uh, bedroom!”
He enters the room, hands on his helmet to pull it off his head, then immediately freezes. His gorgeous eyes run over my body through the gap, and shoulders dropping, he lets his arm fall down his sides.
“Hello,” I whisper. I was going for seductive temptress, but it sounds more like schoolgirl caught in a fib.
“What’s...what’s this?” he breathes out.
“I figured I’d try your jacket before buying my own. You don’t mind, do you?”
Please play along. Please play along.
He says nothing, eyes running up and down my body as if he can’t decide what to look at first.
I twirl around so that he sees the way his jacket stops right beneath my ass. “How do I look?”
His chest heaves as he slowly steps forward, like a hunter trying not to spook his prey. I think he knows I’m provoking him on purpose—that I want him to unleash his true self and show me the extent of what he likes in bed. That I’m dying for him to be rough.
If I’m supposed to leave in two days, then I intend to take full advantage of them.
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t wear my clothes.”
“We did,” I confirm, batting my lashes as he stops in front of me.“Should I take it off, cowboy?”
His pupils are blown wide, his unwavering gaze set on me, and the smell of him is making me dizzy. “Run.”
The growing pressure in my stomach has my thighs turning slick, and nearly out of breath, I ask, “Run?”
“Run...fast.” His low, raspy voice shoots to my stomach. “’Cause I’ll catch you, Barbie. And when I do, I’m going to fuck you like I hate you.”
He lets me go, takes a step back, and flips his visor down.
My god.
He’s terrifying. And captivating. And so...incredibly...hot. Does he really want me to run away?
Without a second thought, I dart past him, out the front door and down the porch stairs, an exhilarated giggle bursting out of my lips as the grass crunches underneath my naked feet.
I keep moving forward, adrenaline making me faster than usual, and dare a glance behind me. Logan is following, black helmet and gloves on. Though he’s not running, one of his strides is worth three of mine, so I speed up past the gentle pain in my legs that reminds me I am not a runner.
I bolt toward the orchard, past the first few rows, until apple trees surround me.
Once I’m confident I’m deep enough, I stop, brace my hands on my knees, and wait for my heartbeat to settle.
I can’t hear him walking, but I frantically turn left and right, peering through the gaps between the endless rows of trees. He was right behind me before I entered the orchard. Maybe he’s hiding.
A noise to my right has me flinching, and without even turning to check if it’s Logan, I take off again. I laugh, fully knowing I should remain silent, but unable to stop myself. Adrenaline thrums in my veins as I slalom between trees, my muscles growing tired with every step.
When I’m too exhausted to continue, I hide behind a trunk. I’ve run almost to the other side of the orchard, and he could be anywhere. I haven’t seen him in a while—where is he?
“Gotcha.”
A strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me to the right, and with a squeal, I free myself of his hold and run. I don’t make it far before both his arms squeeze my stomach, and I crumble down to the ground.
“Let me go!” I laugh, thrashing against the grass as he pins my body down with his weight. “I’m never giving it back!”
“If you keep the jacket, I’m keeping you.”
With his free hand, he pulls my waist up, my chest still pressed to the ground. The jacket bunches around my hips, and the moisture between my legs is now exposed to the morning air. All the exhilaration of the moment fades in favor of a hungry need for him, especially as I throw a look past my shoulder and see the helmet still hides his face. From the way his head is tilted down, I know he’s staring down at my ass, fully exposed to him, and just the sight of it makes me whine.
He lifts his visor, and the blue and gray irises have been swallowed by darkness, his brow tightly furrowed. I get lost in the way he looks at me. Like he needs me, like he owns me.
“God, I missed you.” With a lightning-fast movement, his hand cracks down on my ass, the loud slapping noise hitting a moment before the pain.
I squeal, my body flinching, but the leather of his gloves quickly massages the raw skin of my ass as his other hand snakes around the back of my neck, keeping my cheek pressed to the ground.
“I missed this ass.” His hand smacks my other cheek, my body flinching forward as I let out a gasp. His gloved hand rubs down my ass, over my drenched pussy, then down my thighs. “I missed you splayed out and completely at my mercy.”
Bringing his hand up, he pinches the gloves with his teeth and pulls them off, then throws them to one side. My knees press against the dewy grass, my back arching as his hold of my neck tightens. I want him to overpower me so badly. I want his punishing touch on my body, the full weight of his desire, the entirety of his soul.
Once he’s taken the helmet off, he meets my gaze. “If at any point you want to stop?—”
“I’ll tell you,” I reassure him. “Now, please?—”
His finger slides inside me, the inner walls of my pussy clenching around the intrusion. He rolls it inside me, then adds a second finger, stretching me.
“Is this why you wanted my attention?” he whispers as he leans forward. “Because you’re so wet for me?”
“Yes,” I whimper as I buck my hips. Though his fingers are deep inside me, he’s not using them to fuck me, and I can feel myself growing needier.
“You want me to use you, little backpack?”
“Yes,” I say, even more desperately. “Please.”
“Are you sure?” he asks as his fingers continue their torturous movements inside me. “Because if you keep grinding your hips like that, I’m going to think what you want is to come on my fingers.”
My erratic movements falter, my hands bunching in the grass beside my head. It’s hard to keep still—he’s giving me just enough to keep me wanting more. Like he’s designed a game I’m meant to lose.
“I can make it happen for you, you know.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head as he plunges his fingers in and pulls back hard, again and again. I spread my legs wider, hands clutching at the ground.
“Just like that. If you want to come, I’ll let you ride my fingers. I’ll feast on your pussy, and then I’ll fuck you until you come apart for me. How does that sound, Barbie?”
“No,” I cry out, though my body is in fervent disagreement. “No, please. Use me for yourself.”
His left hand abandons the back of my neck as his fingers pull out of me. With one quick motion, my arms are pulled behind me, and my hard nipples brush against the dirt.
Once he grabs my wrists, I can’t move at all. The side of my face is pressed against the ground as something soft wraps around them, and he entraps both my arms by making a second loop.
“I knew I’d find a good use for your scrunchies.”
I listen to the whir of his zipper and peep past my shoulder at the pink flamingos wrapped around my wrists, my breaths running quickly out of my parted lips.
“You know why I don’t want you wearing my clothes, Barbie?” he asks.
I blink, then swallow, but neither action seems to help my brain snap out of its trance. “B-because you’re astonishingly possessive of your things?”
“I’m possessive of one thing only, and that’s my backpack,” he snaps. The fabric of his jeans presses firmly against my calves. “The reason I don’t want you wearing my clothes, especially my favorite jacket, is entirely different.” The crown of his cock rubs against me, dipping in before disappearing again.
“What is it?” I ask, out of breath. My heart is thumping, the anticipation making me pant as my every nerve tenses. “Why don’t you want me to wear your clothes?”
His cock parts my lips, only the head moving past the resistance and making me shiver with pleasure.
“Because it makes me lose control.”
I moan loudly as he slams his stiff erection to the hilt. My eyes water as he groans, my brain simmering in pleasure as I contract around him.
I feel so full.
“Did my pretty little backpack lose her tongue?” He pulls back. “Maybe I should fuck that bratty mouth of yours. Make sure it’s still there.”
“Yes,” I whisper as he presses forward, cramming his cock deep inside me. Tears run down my cheeks as my mouth twists. “Whatever you want.”
He rubs a hand along my spine, all the way between my shoulders, then fists my hair. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Barbie.” He leans closer until his beard brushes my cheek, his voice laced with effort as he murmurs, “I’m going to fuck my favorite little hole until I shoot my load as far as you can take it.”
I whimper, breathing in the scent of dirt and grass.
“You can come as many times as you want to. As many times as you manage. But I’m not going to stop for you. I will fuck you as hard, and as deep and for however long I wish to.”
He groans when I move my hips to grind against him, looking for a release.
“And once I’m done with you, I’ll flip you around and clean you up with my fingers. I’ll push them deep inside you, get them coated with my pleasure and yours, then push them down your throat until you’ve cleaned up the mess you made.”
My face rubs against the grass as I nod, and a whimper accompanies every breath from my lips. I can’t think anymore, can’t keep still. My nails dig into my wrist, and my arousal drips down my inner thighs.
“Watch me while I fuck you into the dirt, backpack.”
With his hand still gripping my hair, my neck is angled to the right, and though every one of my muscles strains in this position, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him looming over me. And it’s so worth it.
I keep my eyes on him just like he asked, but at the first thrust, they cross, the mix of pleasure and pain making lights explode in my brain. Then a second comes, and a third, and soon enough, I’m overwhelmed, only able to submit to him.
“Logan,” I call, my legs shaking as an orgasm moves through me and takes over my body. “Oh my god—oh my?—”
Pleasure ripples through me, his thrusts faltering when I clench around him.
He moans as his rhythm picks up again, and with my orgasm still echoing through me, I cry out. It’s too much to take—too much pleasure, too much brute force—and then, it’s not nearly enough. His cock works me up again, and before long, I’m on the brink of another orgasm, and his hand is tugging at my hair as a reminder he wants me to watch him.
Eyes struggling to stay open, I stare at his taut jaw, his hungry eyes. He stares back for a while, then looks between us, his eyes fluttering. “You should see this, Barbie. My cock disappearing into your drenched pussy.”
With a loud hum piercing the silence, I call his name, and my orgasm explodes around his shaft for the second time in a handful of minutes. This time, he doesn’t ease at all, his speed increasing as his hips slap against my ass.
I try to adjust to the unrelenting rhythm of his cock pushing inside me, and with every bit of my body tingling, I feel it start all over again. I could stop him with a word, and my shaking legs beg me to. But everything hurts deliciously, and feeling him relinquish control is what I’ve craved since the moment he kissed me on that deserted road.
I will lie here and take it until he comes, just like he asked me to. And I will enjoy every minute of it.
“Don’t stop,” I say through gritted teeth. “Show me who I belong to.”
He growls, his cock sinking hard inside me. “Scream, Barbie. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”