27 - He’s the Fucking Devil
Cordelia
I’m still coming down from the heavenly high when that husky voice finds the shell of my ear.
That sculpted chest, slick with sweat, glides over my back, every glorious muscle flexing against me.
His rock-hard cock slips neatly between the crack of my arse, still glowing red-hot from his ruthless punishment.
Logan’s quiet tittering convinces him he’s won.
But I know exactly what he’s doing, even if he thinks I don’t.
And all that goes through my stubborn mind is:
‘I’ll show you a good fucking girl.’
I buck, catching him off guard, and ram my backside into him with as much force as I can muster.
Whilst he’s recovering from the blow, I leap off the bench and rush him.
He has little time to react before my hands fly at his burly shoulders, and we both go hurtling into one of the shower cubicles behind him.
I pin him against the cold tiles, both of us giggling incessantly like naughty schoolchildren.
Then I smash my lips against his in a kiss that’s all hunger and teeth, and need, and fucking unrestrained brutality.
He kisses me back with more greed than a corporate scandal, our lips like opposing magnets being pulled together by an unbreakable force.
I sink my teeth into his bottom lip, delighting in the uncharacteristic yelp that slips from his throat.
Without a hint of any warning, I drop to my knees, landing level with the massive appendage, erected and standing to attention like some sort of military soldier.
My wet tongue chases the bruises on my lips before I dip my chin and wrap those same lips around his thick shaft.
“Ohh, fuck.”
The unexpected act sends him plunging into a bundle of sensitive nerves, fingers curling into fists at his side. Every muscle coiling tight as he unwillingly spirals deeper into a rapture of sensory overload.
“Cordelia.”
When my name tumbles from his lips, fire lights within me, a raging surge of excitement that crashes through me like the violent waves of a white-knuckle ride.
A wild turbulence that triggers my carnal instinct to feed, to claim what’s mine.
I bob my head back and forth, coaxing more of his delicious length down my throat.
This isn’t my first time giving head. I may have been a virgin to sex, but I did experiment a little with a previous boyfriend.
Now, I’m not saying that makes me an expert by any stretch but based on the moans and heavy panting coming from the man attached to the member in my mouth, it’s helped.
It is, however, the first time taking a cock of Logan’s size and monstrous girth.
My mouth is only small, despite people’s digs and arrogant comments.
Logan regains a sliver of control, and fists his fingers into my hair, encouraging me to up the pace.
Lost in the haze of his euphoric reverie, the tip pummels the back of my throat.
My eyes ping open as I force down my gag reflex, fighting the urge to retch.
The ache pulses through my jaw, having to accommodate his wide girth.
My eyes stream with tears, but I don’t stop.
Because right now, I’m in control, and I love seeing the cracks shatter his perfect composure.
I steal a glance up, lips still locked around him. His eyes drink me in, smouldering and delirious with desire. Feral, like a wolf stalking its prey.
“Cordelia—stop,” he pants out between ragged breaths. He runs his tongue along his top lip, biting down on the bottom one that’s already swollen and bloody. “You’re gonna— “
My smirk grows around him, pulling back far enough so I can suck and lick the engorged head like a lollipop. The sweet tang of pre-cum lingers on my tongue, followed by a salty aftertaste.
Logan hisses. “You’ve got five seconds to remove your pretty lips from my dick before I slam you against this wall.”
He hates losing control. But when he does, a surge of power alights in my soul, and it’s so addictive, I’m like an addict deprived of the next hit. So I keep going, slipping in some suggestive moaning to really wind him up. To tease him to the brink of his crescendo.
“Enough!” he barks, tearing his dick from my mouth so suddenly I almost require a trip to the dentist.
Growling like the untamed beast he is, he hauls me off the floor and shoves me against the tiles; just like he said he would.
My back must collide with the switch for the shower, because icy water spurts from the jets above.
A screech rips from my throat, leaving me breathless and unable to form words.
I thrash in his steadfast grip, desperate to escape the harsh drop in temperature, but Logan doesn’t let up.
He simply lifts me into the air like I weigh nothing and thrusts me back down onto his rigid cock.
The temperature shifts and the warmth engulfs us. Wrapping myself around his body, I allow gravity to pull me deeper until he’s filling every inch of me. Until we’re practically fused as one.
Our wet lips meet again, tongues swirling in a wicked frenzy.
He pulls away, dropping his mouth to my neck, bombarding the sensitive area with moist kisses.
A growl rumbles from deep in his throat, and he bites down hard.
I rear backwards, squealing, but he pulls me into him again, gently licking and lapping at the wound he made.
The sensation nearly tips me over the edge, building the orgasm deep in my core. I can’t hold it back much longer. I bite my lip as a distraction, but that obviously excites the god beneath me because he grunts and starts pounding into me, using the wall to stabilise us.
“Logan,” I moan his name seconds before I explode. A white-hot heat sears through my body leaving me utterly speechless, with unintelligible noises pouring from my lips. Logan follows straight after, revelling in his own release as it takes hold, filling me with his seed.
Breathless and panting, his legs finally give way, and he slides down onto the floor with me in tow.
Our eyes meet, and we both start laughing uncontrollably.
“How are we going to explain this?” I whisper meekly.
“Hey, at least there’s no cleanup this time,” he says, giving me a mischievous wink.
Turns out there’s a hairdryer in the changing rooms, and it’s a damn good job because I’m sopping wet.
We both are, only Logan seems a lot less stressed about it than me and would be content with strolling back upstairs looking like a drowned cat.
I finish dabbing at my face with a towel; thank God for waterproof makeup.
Logan steps up behind me. He circles me in that overprotective embrace I’ve surprisingly grown to love.
My body shouldn’t respond with warmth and fuzziness, but it does.
With his chin nestled in the crook of my shoulder, he plants a chaste kiss on my neck, right over the love bite gradually darkening my skin.
With a tug, I twist the bobby pin from my hair, letting the golden strands tumble over the bruised skin, though they won’t fully conceal the deep purple mark.
Logan catches my eye in the mirror, and I’m quickly reminded of the day he stormed into the ladies’ toilets to confront me about the pregnancy.
I smile at the mirror, and his reflection smiles back. His eyes are no longer stormy; back to that hypnotic, piercing blue, and gleaming with quiet pride.
“We should get back,” I say, shifting my weight from foot to foot. The way he’s staring at me, with such compelling intensity, causes my heart to flutter like a kaleidoscope of butterflies taking flight.
He nibbles his lip, laughing softly. “You mean you don’t want to go for round two?”
“Logan,” I warn, practically vibrating with the need to leave the room.
“I’m only teasing you,” he admonishes, delivering another quick kiss to my cheek.
Then he drops his arms and slips away. And I can’t deny that I don’t immediately pine for his embrace.
Back upstairs, the ‘party’ is in full swing. Most of the guests don’t appear to have noticed our absence, and we manage to slip back in as if we’d not been having hot sex in the changing rooms for the past hour. And my God, was it hot.
Clarke noticed, of course he did, and welcomed us back with a subtle, “Fucked that out your system?”
Typical.
“I know I asked you to create a distraction,” Logan says, eyes flicking to Clarke’s newly split lip. “But you didn’t have to declare war.”
He shrugs, waving his hand nonchalantly. “It’s fine. No one died. Well, not figuratively.”
Ezio scoffs, rolling his green eyes skyward. The boys fall into relaxed conversation, discussing who had the upper hand in the brawl and how ‘fuckin’ awesome’ Clarke’s first hit was. I announce I need to step outside for some air and space, which then sparks heated words between me and Logan.
“I’ll be fine,” I insist, gesturing to the beefy bald guy in the corner, who’s now watching my every move.
I don’t wait for Logan to answer. He’s only going to bore me with reasons to hold me captive as long as possible. So instead, I strut through the crowds with a newfound confidence, only stopping when I reach the front door. Outside, I draw in a deep lungful of fresh air.
“Well, if it ain’t Logan’s new lass.”
I spin around, searching for the source of the smooth lilt. Cillian emerges from the depths of the shadows, and suddenly, the vulnerability of my little black dress and kitten heels is profoundly apparent.
He stands a good height taller than me, even in my heels.
Up close, he’s even more striking—in a rugged, piratey sort of way.
Sharp features, cloaked with rough, overgrown stubble, dusky charcoal hair, and a deceptive smile, like a magician who knows all the tricks behind the illusions.
There’s an air of mischievous playfulness surrounding him that draws you in without consent.
Onyx eyes bore down into mine, searching for answers I won’t dare give.
I swallow hard and extend a clammy hand in greeting.
“Cillian, right?”
He grabs my hand in a confident grip and shakes it.
“Aye,” he replies, throwing me a charming smile for good measure.
I smile back without realising, because his smile is that infectious.
“Sorry it’s not under better circumstances,” I add, voice a little softer now.
He breathes in the cool air with me, closing his eyes to the afternoon sun.
I lean against the wooden veranda, following his gaze out across the acreage of lush green fields.
It’s quiet out here, calming somehow. Cillian’s standing so close that our shoulders brush, and his scent washes over me, an earthy musk.
“I believe congratulations are in order for you,” he quips, eyes swooping back to me.
I avert my eyes, face burning with heat. “What do you mean?” I ask.
He chuckles to himself. “If you want to keep a secret pet, you’ve gotta do better than that.”
He follows it up with a wink that has my heart all aflutter. This guy’s got enough charisma to sell ice to Eskimos.
“Makes me wonder what else you might be hiding underneath that pretty smile of yours.”
There’s an edge to his tone that sounds sinister, despite the wolfish grin across his lips.
“N-nothing,” I stutter, glancing up at him.
He meets my gaze, cocking an eyebrow. “Aye,” he says. His long fingers slip beneath my hair, holding it free from my nape to reveal Logan’s stake. “Maybe just get the eejit to piss on ya next time, eh?”
Cillian gives me a boyish wink before he’s gone, leaving me alone and incredibly confused.