Chapter 17
Seventeen
Logan
Leaving him alone in bed feels illegal—it should be. It felt wrong last night and almost feels worse now. I think part of it is leftover dread and confusion from yesterday. I can only guess why he was so adamant that I get away from him, but I’d rather he tell me.
I have plans to ask him about it.
I have to, because it’s getting to be unbearable.
It isn’t even that unusual—he’s always done this.
Baby has no constant, always bouncing back and forth between hot and cold.
I could handle it when we weren’t… I don’t know what we are, but I can admit that orgasms being tossed into the mix have me extra sensitive to his disdain.
So, yes. Leaving him half naked in his bed when he ordered me to felt shitty, and leaving him now that he’s all over me feels just as bad.
As creepy as it sounds, it makes me wish I’d gotten to tie him up.
That’s insane, wanting a way to trap him, but I’m pretty sure I’ve always wanted to tie him up.
And having him bound doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t stop if he asked me to.
It just means I’d have more say in how things played out.
It wouldn’t feel so horribly wrong to just leave if things were up to me.
But as wrong as it is, I still have no choice. I can’t go to work unless I get up.
Except when I try to do that very thing, my baby whimpers in his sleep, and I just end up hugging him against me instead. I know he’s not awake, but I try to reason with him anyway.
“I have to go,” I say quietly, hoping the extra squeeze I give him helps soften the blow. It doesn’t.
“No,” he whines, petulance on full display as he forcibly shoves his face in my armpit. He settles right there immediately and all I can do is sigh.
I don’t even like work all that much. I should quit. I’d miss it, a little, but I really don’t want to get up. I wish we could just do this. Forever.
“Baby,” I try again because I’m cursed with a sense of responsibility and can’t actually lose my job—no matter how good his hair smells. And it does smell good. It’s so fucking soft too. I always knew it would be.
He elbows me—or tries to—with a grunt when my continuous hair-petting starts to bug him, but then once again stills. If he weren’t half on me, this would be a lot easier.
“I have to get dressed.”
He answers me with a simple grunt.
It’s kind of adorable how hard he’s fighting consciousness.
And he’s a lot clingier in his sleep than I’d expect—I’ve discovered my very own cuddle monster.
For some reason, it makes me want to squeeze him harder, but I resist. Instead, I kiss his neck.
And then his jaw. His cheek. His ear is right there, so that gets a smooch too.
“Stop.” He shakes his head, a poor attempt to fight me off, but it’s no use. If anything, his sleepy voice makes that cute aggression I’m feeling much worse. I kiss him harder and slide my hand under his shirt, cop a feel until he’s pushing at my chest. “Logan.”
I lean back to see if he’s finally awake and find him glaring at me. “You’ve got eye boogers.”
He glares harder, but when the urge to kiss him hits me again, he lets me. Doesn’t really kiss me back, though. “You’re pretty when you’re mad, Baby.”
“You’re way too happy in the morning—is it even morning?” His crusty eyes look for the window, but the only light he finds is my dimmed table lamp, which neither of us bothered to turn off last night. “It’s still dark outside!” His voice crackles the more he speaks.
“You’re cute.”
“Get away from me.” He rolls over, and the space he adds leaves me looking at his bubbly butt. It looks extra smackable in the snug pair of light blue briefs he’s wearing, and I consider myself a saint for being able to deny the urge.
Honestly, it hurts my feelings a bit—him pulling away again.
That’s probably part of the reason why I want to spank him.
He’s almost always telling me to get away, but I like it a whole lot less now.
He told me to go away yesterday—came right on my dick and then said get out.
To say it hurt would be an understatement.
I don’t think he really means it right now. In fact, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t. I close the gap between us, shamelessly pressing the not-quite-morning wood I wasn’t aware I had against him, and let that be the way I test the resolve of this mild rejection.
My cheeks pull tighter with a growing smile every second that he doesn’t send me off.
“I like waking up with you in my bed.”
He snorts. “I can tell.”
I sniff his hair again, because I can, but don’t let myself get too comfortable. “I need my phone.” I pat the bed, trying to find it, but coming up blank.
“Why?” He huffs when I shove my hand under him, his annoyance being pushed to new heights.
“Gotta call my boss and tell him I can’t come in today.”
“Can you do that?”
Poor little rich boy—doesn’t know how regular jobs work. “Gotta.” I give up my search and basically melt against his back. “Caught a case of big-dick,” I whisper the words against his nape, and he snickers. “Can’t exactly work like this, can I?”
I slide my palm under his shirt, feeling the smooth plane of his flat stomach. When I feel myself reaching lower, I stop. He wouldn’t like that. Wish I knew why.
“Baby, do you ever let people touch you? Guys, I mean.”
It’s an invasive question, so I understand why he scoffs. “I don’t—the sun isn’t even up, Logan.”
He has a point. I don’t usually let myself ask him real questions. I worry too much about how he’ll respond, but for whatever reason, the questions are coming to me easily this early in the day.
“The sun has to be up for you to remember if anyone has ever touched your dick before?”
Another scoff is tossed my way, and it’s all the warning I get before he’s grabbing my arm and sinking his teeth into my forearm. I don’t fight it.
He’s broken me. His bites hurt, but the throbbing in my cock makes up for it. I don’t think that’s normal. I know some people like a little pain during sex, but my kink is apparently cock nibbling.
“Little vampire,” I say lovingly. “You can bite me all you want—it’s not gonna stop me from wondering why you won’t let me touch you.”
He gives me a cute growl, and that’s all I expect to get out of him before he begins to speak. “Yes. Of course, Logan, but he was gay and wanted to.”
I scoff. “That asshole didn’t even deserve—”
“Not Zeke.”
“Oh.” So he means some other dude who didn’t deserve him then.
“Zeke was… fighting it, I guess. He didn’t want to touch me or see me. When he did…”
“What?” I press my lips to the top of his shoulder and wait.
“He wasn’t nice. He’d laugh or say I was disgusting—that I’d look better as a girl.”
I hug him tighter, unable to help myself.
That bothers me—has a pot of sadness and rage simmering inside me.
It’s a big surprise to me that Baby—my bold, bossy, and daring little vampire—would let himself be treated that way.
He deserves so much better. It also makes me want to meet the idiot who couldn’t recognize the prize they had. “He sounds like a bitch.”
“Hm,” he hums his agreement, sounding much too solemn for me to leave it at that.
“I’d never do that, Baby. You know that, right?”
He sighs. “No, I don’t know that.”
That makes my chest feel tight, makes me feel the smallest I’ve ever been in my whole life. I wouldn’t, and that he can’t see that… well, it makes me want to prove him wrong.
I hope he lets me.
“I mean, I guess I do. You’d be a lot nicer about it, for sure. But that doesn’t mean it would suck any less. Zeke might not want to, but he does like boys. You don’t.” He turns around until he’s facing me, but it seems as though he did it for no reason. He won’t even look at my face.
“I like you,” I correct. I really do. A lot. I can’t help that I accepted the public’s default sexuality as my own for most of my life, but I’m clearly not as straight as either of us once thought I was.
“But… you might change your mind.” He drags his eyes off my chest to give me the saddest little frown, and I immediately kiss it off his face. It’s not even a choice I make—it’s something I have to do.
I don’t mean for it to go on so long, but there’s no way I’m going to be the one to stop this.
He’s still sleepy, moving his mouth slowly against mine, and it helps knock some much-needed sense into me.
His languid movements, his pillowy lips, and the hand softly skimming my cheek keep me from giving in to the need to take him.
Truthfully, he could be a girl, and it wouldn’t matter.
The only thing that would have changed is that I would have realized my feelings for him sooner.
That’s shitty of me, but it’s true. I felt straight.
I never thought of myself any other way.
But he could tell me he was a girl, or neither a boy or girl, and it would not fucking matter to me.
I like him as he is.
He pulls back the slightest bit, hardly putting any space between us. “I guess it’s okay. You can try, Logan. You can touch me.”
I feel myself freeze, every muscle in my body locked as I take that in—his sad voice that tells me he’s certain I’ll hate it. He clearly doesn’t remember that I already have. He was out of it, so I’ll let it slide, but he’s focused now.
“I mean, if you really want to.” I can hear the nerves, feel them as his lips tremble before mine.
He doesn’t get it, how much he means to me. I know I should tell him, but he said I can touch, so that’s what I do. I watch his face closely, seeing nothing beyond his blue eyes in the dim lighting. I’m gonna prove him wrong.
I start at his hip, slide my fingertips along the band of his briefs, before slipping them beneath the fabric. And then I do what feels natural.
And it does—feels completely normal to be sliding my palm down his underwear. All that smooth, hairless skin right at my fingertips. I reach the base of his cock and pause when he drags in a shaky breath.