Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Logan
I couldn’t sleep.
Bexley was waiting for a new washer and dryer to be delivered, so both of us were dropping our laundry off with our parents. Yeah, that was the level of adult we were at.
How was that an issue? Because she only had oversized t-shirts to sleep in now, so when she rolled on her side and threw her leg over my crotch, her vagina pressed up against my thigh. Then she had to go and make it worse by squeezing her chest into my side as well.
Granted, I was partly to blame because I’d automatically lifted my arm for her to move under when she’d rolled, but I hadn’t factored on the leg over crotch move.
Or had I ?
I didn’t know the answer to that, genuinely. What I did know was that I’d been lying here for ten minutes in the deepest depths of hell, wondering how I was meant to get out of it. I didn’t want to wake her up.
Truth be told—I didn’t want her to move .
Bexley Heath was the best friend I’d ever had, and the woman I’d always wanted.
There, I said it. I was man enough to admit that—to myself—and not run away screaming.
I probably should have run away after waving my dick around in the air in front of her earlier, but I couldn’t do it. She had to have seen it, and I didn’t mean that from a yeah because it’s so big angle. I meant because it was right in front of her, for Pete’s sake.
But she hadn’t said a word or run away screaming, so what did that mean? I’d been so focused on making sure she was okay and then trying to get oxygen back into my body afterward that I hadn’t noticed if she’d paid attention to it.
Could you miss something like that ?
And why was I thinking about this like a teenager? I was a man who was mature and responsible, and it was time to go back to thinking like that.
On the back of that decision, though, Bex shifted her thigh, dragging it more firmly over the area of my body that was now harder than it felt like I’d ever been in my life—and I’d gone through puberty, so that said something.
Out of desperation to focus on anything but my pressing problem, I started trawling through things I could think about. Literally anything was a good subject at this moment.
The first thing my brain went to was: Bex’s legs as she got into bed. The way the t-shirt had lifted when she’d lifted one to get onto the b—
No. Fuck no !
Okay, I needed a new thought.
Instead, the mental image of her t-shirt dipping when she’d bent over, and the clear view I’d had of her cleavage popped into my mind. Her tits would fit in my hands perfectly, and they were so full at the top that if I put my mouth—
“Christ,” I whispered into the room, rubbing my face with one hand and hoping she stayed asleep. “You need to find Jesus, Richards.”
Like she knew I was in erection hell, Bex chose that moment to shift deeper into me, then rubbed her nose against the area just under my ear.
Swallowing loudly, I started counting down from ten. After that, I’d get up and sleep on the ground or something. Hell, I’d Duct Tape myself to the wall and sleep upright if it would end this.
The hand resting on my chest moved downward until it settled on the top half of my cock, and that’s when every shred of restraint I’d been desperately clinging onto broke.
“Ah, fuck it.”
Rolling her onto her back, I waited for her eyes to open. The second I saw them do it, I swooped down and kissed her. I was gentlemanly enough to hold as much of my body off hers as I could in case she decided to hit me—hopefully not knee me in the balls—or say no, though.
She didn’t.
Not only didn’t she, but she moaned and wrapped her arms around me, then licked my lower lip with a firm sweep of her tongue. Deepening the kiss, I allowed a bit more of my body to press on top of hers as I licked back into her mouth.
I had just enough control and self-restraint to do one thing. Well, two.
“Are you awake?”
This was important to me because I needed to know that she was with me.
The hazy expression on her face as she looked up at me softened. “Yes, I’m awake.”
Here came part two, even though my arms were shaking with the restraint of holding back.
“What’s my name?”
“Logan William Richards.” There was no hesitation and no confusion .
A small breath of relief left me, but before I could do anything else, she pulled my head back down to hers and started kissing me again. This time she dominated our movements, tilting my head to the side so that she could deepen the kiss.
Threading my fingers into the hair at the back of her head, I took back control once the tension left me, around the same time that pushed her chin against mine, like she was trying to get me to do it anyway.
Feeling the change, she pulled back slightly and muttered against my mouth, “Thank God for that.”
Things quickly got even more heated, because she pushed her hands between us and pulled her t-shirt up her body, then over her head, separating our mouths again.
I got my first look at her and the panties she was wearing.
I wasn’t a man who had an ideal woman. Personality was attractive to me, and stereotypical beauty could come without that. Whenever I met a woman who was amazing to look at on the outside but came without anything on the inside, I shut down. I’d learned my lesson in high school, and there was a point when a guy had to outgrow that shit.
The point I’d done it was at eighteen when I graduated and decided on my path in life. Maybe I was old before my time, but I learned lessons through experience, and nothing hit you harder than losing your best friend and the other half of your soul because you were a shallow dickhead who didn’t have the guts just to fess up.
And that was the crux of the last seven years for me. I hadn’t had the spine to do that, and I’d lost the best person to ever happen to me outside of my family. Trust me, that eats away at someone, so that lesson was learned and applied to how I’d lived my life for seven long years.
That meant that I wasn’t expecting the punch that an almost naked Bexley, visible thanks to the light coming through the partially open door from the hallway, would have. I’d dreamed about it, sure, but no dreams ever prepare you for reality.
Staring down at her in amazement, I managed to croak, “Fuck me.”
“I’m trying to,” she snapped. “But you keep stopping.”
Shaking my head to clear it, I skimmed a hand from the base of her abdomen up to just under her right tit. “How is your skin so soft?”
With what I dealt with at work and how I lived my life, it felt like the roughness of my hand was going to graze her if I wasn’t careful.
Her right hand trailed its way down to my side and onto the small sensitive patch on my stomach, making me flinch. Whether she knew this or not was undetermined, but she quickly found out when I jerked as she moved it.
“Logan,” she said slowly, moving her thumb over it again and smiling when it got the same reaction out of me. “If you don’t start moving again, I’m going to go to the bathroom to take care of things myself.”
The meaning behind what she was saying filtered through the haze in my brain, which was still trying to come to terms with what I was seeing.
Scowling at her, I growled, “No.”
One word, but it said everything I needed to.
Swooping down, I went straight for her nipple, sucking it into my mouth and groaning as she fisted my hair again. With a small tug, she arched her back and pressed her breast into me even more, then wrapped her legs around my hips and ground her crotch against mine.
All that separated us was a thin pair of sleep shorts and her panties. I couldn’t sleep with underwear on, they were too restrictive for me, so the loose, thin cotton of the shorts was as much as I could bear at night when I wasn’t alone in my own place.
At that moment, I was damning and thanking them because they allowed my dick to have some space without squashing it, given how hard it was, but they were also a barrier between us.
Like she was reading my mind, her hands shifted under the elastic waistband and started to push them down, taking over with her feet when she couldn’t reach it anymore.
By the time I kicked them off, I had her panties pulled down, managing to get them to mid-thigh without too much of a problem.
It was when she moved her legs to take over their removal that I said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t knee me in the crotch in the process. Thankfully, that never happened, and after some laughter from both of us, as she stuck her leg over the edge of the bed and kicked it around to get rid of them, I was able to lower back down on top of her—skin to skin.
My hand had only just started to move up her thigh toward her pussy when she pulled my face away from hers with another tug of my hair.
“A couple of facts that you need to know right now: I’m on the pill, and I’m clean,” she said seriously, then added, “Oh, and I’m ready.”
Two of them made sense, but the last one wasn’t computing for me. “What?”
Mustering as much patience as she could, which wasn’t a lot given the tone she ended up using, she explained, “Logan, if you don’t get inside me in the next ten seconds, the coroner’s going to have to figure out how to tell my parents I died of sexual starvation. Please, do me a favor and make it a better day for them all than that.”
Grinning wickedly, I went back to moving my hand to where it’d been headed before. I should have known—really should have known—that the joke was going to be on me, because when I felt how wet she was, the smile dropped from my face.
Any humor and joking left the situation completely as I took my cock in my hand and notched it at her entrance .
“I know for a fact I’m clean, but regardless of what you said, I can still get a condom if you’ve changed your mind.”
It would always be her choice.
Keeping her eyes on mine, she lifted her hips, pushing me slightly into her.
I swear I stopped breathing. Maybe I died for like a second, I don’t know, but I’d never felt anything like this before in my life. I was numb all over except for the part of me inside her, and it felt like everything in the world was focused on this moment and the two of us. Was that corny? I didn’t give one iota of a fuck about if it was because it was damn well true.
It was vital that I got to see her reaction as I pushed farther into her, so I held back from even blinking as I pushed gently into her again. I wasn’t going to rush it even if it killed me, so every move I made was small and controlled.
It was after I’d just pulled out of her and was about to move my hips forward that the chorus for Take It Easy by the Eagles started blaring from my cell, meaning that I jerked forward and deeper into her than I’d intended, leaving half of my length buried inside her.
Groaning at the feeling of the wet warmth squeezing me tightly, I froze to make sure she was okay.
With her nails embedded in my back, she moaned, “Holy shit.”
I held myself in place as we both tried to catch our breaths after the song stopped before it started up again. “What’s that?”
Then it sank in. “Damn it, that’s DB.”
Her limbs tightened around me as she lifted her head to look over my shoulder, which didn’t help with how much it was taking me to hold back from moving again. “Where?”
I was so focused on what I was doing that her question didn’t make sense. “What?”
“Where’s DB?”
“Oh, on the phone.”
The music stopped again, and I relaxed, but it was quickly replaced by the chorus to Thank God I’m A Country Boy .
I could see and feel her fighting laughter. “Who’s that?”
Seeing the humor in it, my lips twitched. “Carter.”
You’d think having the cognitive abilities to identify ringtones with people would make it hit home that work was calling, but unfortunately, it didn’t. It still didn’t when Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac took over the playlist.
Before she could ask, I identified it for her. “That’s Garrett.”
All of the tension left her body as she dropped her head onto the pillow and burst out laughing, squeezing down around me and making me groan.
“I think work’s trying to get in touch with you,” she wheezed, tightening again.
Take It Easy started playing again, and I lunged toward the phone, managing to reach it without detaching from her.
I didn’t even get to say anything as I hit the green answer icon.
“Richards, get your ass in here,” he snapped and hung up just as a call waiting beep sounded with Carter’s name on the screen.
Glancing at Bex, I hit answer. “It’s cool, I just spoke to DB. I’m on my way.”
“Yeah,” he growled, the sound of his indicator following it. “Did he tell you we have a problem and how big a problem it is?”
Looking away from her, I stared at the headboard, thinking how good it would be for her to hold onto while I took her from behind.
“Logan, for fuck’s sake, focus,” Carter clipped down the phone, making me wince.
“I’m focused,” I said defensively, ignoring Bex’s snicker. “What’s happened?”
As he laid out why we were being summoned in the middle of the night, my eyes narrowed.
“That little bastard. Give me twenty, and I’ll be there.” Hitting the end call icon, I kissed Bex as apologetically as I could. “Trust me when I say there’s very little that would be able to take me away right now, and that I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t urgent. ”
Her expression went from curious to concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I told her honestly. “But I’m hoping it will be.”
“Will you be safe?”
Her words were as beautiful as they were painful. She still didn’t hold a grudge against me, and even now she was putting me first.
Pushing her hair away from the side of her face with my thumb, I leaned down and touched my lips gently against hers. “I will be. If I don’t get to see you before you leave for work, do you have space in your day to come and see me?”
I meant it. It was important to me that I got that extra time with her before I came home, no matter when it happened.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
Wild horses couldn’t have pulled me away from her, but the one person who was considerably smaller than one but a massive pain in the ass could.
Fucking Diego Mantoya, the little hemorrhoid pimple.