Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen
Baby
I hadn’t planned on this. I wanted us to move more slowly, make sure Logan understood some things, so that I didn’t have to throw out all of my morals and feel pathetic for doing it. But now that we’re here and he’s so willing to feed this hunger of mine, all I can think is yes. That and please.
Yes, please, fuck my face.
My thighs squeeze together and give me absolutely no relief, only further pushing me into a cock drunk state of mind. There’s a whisper of reason in the back of my head begging me to save some face, have some decorum and stand up, but there are more important matters to deal with.
There’s no way to know how often this is going to happen. I have no clue, but I know whatever the answer is, it’s not enough. I want it to last, and if it never happens again, I want to be able to relive it. Need to be able to see it.
I stand up on wobbly legs, happy for this ugly sweater that hides my own dick as it tries to break free from my shorts, and go for the phone on my bedside table. He’s walking towards me when I turn to face him again, shirt and sweats gone.
“God.” My hand rests on his stomach to stop him.
I look him over and feel like a sinner being tortured with images of the celestial city.
All around his collarbone, on either side of his neck, are faint markings that I’ve left—my own signature painted right on his otherwise perfect skin.
I did that, marked him up like he’s mine to abuse.
His body is unreal—a broad, smooth chest followed by hills and valleys that come to a sexy V.
His happy trail is only a little darker than the blonde locks on his head, but I knew that.
Rule breaker that he is, I’ve seen it plenty of times before.
But what it leads to is a new sight, something I’m seeing not in the darkness of his truck for the first time.
I should be ashamed—I can’t believe that this is what it’s come to. I’m looking at a patch of frizzy hair barely long enough to curl, and am struggling to think of anything appealing. The engorged dick jutting out from it doesn’t help.
Honestly, he’s kind of cute. He’s a big ol’ manly man with a fat cock and adorable curly blonde pubes—how very fitting.
His hands reach for me, but before I can enjoy it, I realize it’s my sweater he’s going for. I don’t want that—it needs to stay on.
“Here.” I shove my phone at his chest and sink down to my knees quickly, hoping he forgets all about trying to strip me.
“Wha—”
“I want to see it. Your cock in my mouth, you fucking it until you come down my throat—” I press my palm over my hidden dick and release a slutty moan. “Record it for me.”
I look up and open my mouth, letting my tongue rest over my bottom lip and wait for him to slide that big dick of his right on in.
“Fuck,” he mutters, fumbling with one hand to access the camera on my cell phone. His free hand wraps around himself and slowly runs up his thick shaft, and I watch in awe as a shiny bead of precum forms right on the slit.
My eyes water before he even moves, the impatience feeling like literal torture at this point.
I’m shaking as I wait for the intrusion.
He’s so hot, made of muscles and swoon, and I know that any of the pain that is for sure going to come later—both the ache in my heart and jaw—are going to be so worth it.
“Hurry,” I whine, and quickly stick my tongue out again as he steps forward, that glistening cockhead aimed right for my waiting mouth.
It’s not until he’s stopping at the opening of my throat that I realize the obnoxiously loud moan filling the room is my own.
I have to close my eyes and focus, revel in the act as my mouth closes around him.
He’s not insanely long, something I could definitely fit in my throat if it were only his length I had to worry about, but he’s thick.
The warmth and heaviness on every push and pull over my tongue make me want to cry as I think about all the wasted time we could have spent doing exactly this.
It has me wanting to shove a finger—or four—right up my ass and ride them as he abuses my tonsils.
“Fuck.” If it weren’t for the added awe this time around, I’d think there was a broken record playing in my bedroom. “Look at you,” he whispers, and I finally have enough sense to eye him.
I can hardly stand the look on his face. I whimper around him, grateful for the slow, languid thrusts that he hopefully assumes are the cause of all the tears.
It’s not until he glances at my phone that I remember it’s there.
I should be putting on a show, not getting emotional at what my hopeless self chooses to interpret as devotion on his face.
I bob my head against his movements, still going slow as I hollow my cheeks and start to suck, focusing on my camera as I do.
It’s regrettable that I won’t be able to see his face in the video, but at least I’ll know what he sees—have proof that I turn him on.
My mouth is watering too much, forcing drool to run down my chin to the point that I have to slurp.
Every time my throat contracts around him, every flick of my tongue over his glans, and every languid lick over the thick veins along his shaft have him slowly losing his composure.
He’s breathing heavier, his chest moving faster, and those deep moans coming more and more—it’s all perfect, but nowhere near enough.
I curl my fingers around his hips and roughly pull him into me, forcing a startled grunt out of him.
I meant what I said—I want him to fuck me.
I want him to bruise my throat, make it so I can hardly speak later.
I stay where I am for a moment, manage to swallow around the head a few times until he groans loudly and slides his fingers through my hair.
“I didn’t know you were such a little cockslut, Baby.” He chuckles, voice deliciously deep as he tightens his hold in my hair. “I should have. A good boy like you, of course you are.” He pauses to grunt, pairs the noise with a shallow thrust, then keeps going. “You want this dick, Baby?”
I can only mewl in response.
“Then fucking take it.”
He moves faster and harder, no longer taking it easy on me, and my body lights up at the treatment.
My jaw begins to ache and my scalp burns, but it’s nothing compared to how painful my neglected erection is.
There’s no relief, making every bit of me needy, and all I can do is helplessly rock my hips.
It gets harder to breathe in between the thrusts, his cock repeatedly blocking my airway and forcing my nose into his pubes.
It makes me lightheaded—has me feeling almost high as my vision goes blurry.
My fingers curl against his thigh, unable to grip, and I’m convinced the only thing keeping me upright is the hold in my hair.
“I’m close, love—so fucking close.” His hand moves to the back of my head, stays there so he can continue fucking my skull with a filthy purpose. “Gonna keep being my good little boy and swallow?”
I can’t nod, but I don’t need to. He knows I will. It’s all I want.
There are only a few more pumps before he goes still, cock lodged as deeply into my throat as it can be, as it swells and twitches, finally unleashing all his desire right inside me.
I was wrong. I could never regret this. It was rough and almost painful, but easily the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced. It’s going to happen again. I know it. I’m still certain he’s just experimenting, but I no longer hate the idea of it.
It’s a panicked whimper that has him pulling out, thankfully not all the way, but enough that I can at least drag in a much-needed breath through my nose. I have no idea just how much cum he’s released so far, but I’m grateful there’s still some left for him to volley across my taste buds.
He takes a step back, half-hard dick in one hand and my phone in the other, and I barely manage to swallow before I fall forward. I have to place a palm on the floor to keep me from face-planting.
“You okay?”
I try to answer, but the words get stuck. I nod instead, my eyes still screwed shut and the oxygen-deprivation induced galaxy still twinkling behind my lids.
“Baby.” His voice is closer.
“”M fine,” I croak. I am, it’s just a difficult recovery. I raise my head just in time to see him sitting down in front of me, still naked, and the awkwardness of his movements has me huffing a throaty laugh.
“Come here.”
I let him pull me between his legs and end up with the side of my face settled on his shoulder, my butt on the cold floor, and my legs draped over one of his. I get a big whiff of his body soap and frown.
“I wish—nnh.” I’m insane. “Never mind.”
“What?” His fingers are gentle as they skim my cheek. “Tell me.”
“It’s stupid.” And humiliating. And a little gross, honestly. I wouldn’t expect someone who isn’t into men to understand.
“Baby, come on.”
“I can’t.”
He snorts. “You can’t be embarrassed after all that.”
I pinch the nipple I’m not laying against and smile when he flinches. He holds my hand against him so I can’t do it again.
“You should have waited to shower. That’s what I wish.” I hide my face in the curve of his neck and wait for him to call me gross. I can handle it.
“Well, if I’d known how dirty you liked it, I would have.”
Ugh. Ugh! What a perfect prick.
“Next time.” He lets go of my hand to touch my thigh, but when his own starts to glide up, I grab it. I am still hard, maybe not as stiff as I was, but the arousal is there. My mind had an orgasmic experience, but that’s as close as I got to coming.
I’m okay with it. He’s not used to… my parts.
A mouth is a mouth, but I don’t want him to think about what else I have.
Or don’t have. It’s why I dug this ugly sweater out of Cade’s closet.
It’s itchy and making me sweat more than necessary, but it’s also hiding the parts of me I know Logan won’t like.
“I’m tired,” I offer as an explanation and realize it’s not exactly a lie.
We stand up together, me with his help, and I find myself a little bummed that it’s all over.
He hands me my phone, and I smile through a blush. At least I have that. Well, that and the thoroughly fucked feeling in my throat. “I’m not gonna send it to you.” It’s a little rude, but if there’s porn featuring my face, it’s for my eyes only.
“That’s probably for the best.” He tips my face up and surprises me by pressing a sweet kiss against the mouth he just fucked.
“Knowing you have it, that you’re going to watch it and play with yourself while my cock stretches those pouty lips of yours on the screen is more than enough to fuel my solo sessions for the rest of my life.
I’d risk losing my dick if I actually had the video to watch. ”
I shouldn’t like the sound of that so much. “You’re an idiot.”
“Damn, Baby.” He kisses my cheek right next to my ear. “Your voice is wrecked.” The subtle growl in the word tells me that he likes it, that he’s proud of himself, and it kind of makes me feel all soft and gooey inside—like a good boy.
I was worried for nothing. Being used, it’s not something I’ve ever liked or been proud of before, but he makes it sexy. He’s sexy.
Logan kisses me again, harder this time, and I let him.