Chapter 19
Nineteen
Baby
“I’m…” I stop myself from admitting it, but it’s impossible to stop myself from feeling it. I’m scared.
He can tell, gives me a soft smile as he approaches his bed, looking way too calm for a guy currently holding a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.
“Why do you even have those?” I regret asking. He has them because he likes to use them—the last thing I want to be thinking about is who he may have put them on. Girls like Liz. Girls not at all like Liz.
Definitely no boys.
“I got these for you.”
I drag in a shaky breath and hug my knees. “For me?”
“Yeah. The color reminded me of you—baby blue.” He winks. “And they’re soft, right?” He sits down and holds them out for me to feel.
They are soft. Poofy. It reminds me of my bed, of all the cozy stuff I nest in.
I want to ask when he got them, if he really meant to use them on me and me alone, but I don’t. He’s been trying to get it through my head that he means the words he says—no matter how crazy he sounds. I don’t want to doubt him, but it’s hard not to when he says stuff like that.
I almost ask if I’m supposed to undress, but I keep that in too. If the whole reason we’re doing this is to keep me from hiding myself, it seems like a weird choice to not have me undress first. It’s got me struggling in a weird mix of nerves and relief.
My belly flutters when I spot the cloth under the restraints.
“It’s a set.” He holds up the blindfold—the same baby blue as the cuffs.
“God. You’re a pervert.”
He snorts. “Sometimes.” He shrugs, and again, I’m stuck on how nonchalant he is.
It helps a bit, knowing that he’s confident, but mostly it’s irritating.
It seems unfair that it’s so easy for him.
“But you’re not the prude I thought you were, Baby.
You like it a little dirty, huh?” He leans forward so that his cocky smile is hovering right in front of my mouth.
I glare. This isn’t funny. I’ll die if he fucking laughs.
His face sobers, settling into something far too knowing as he stares at me. “You don’t have to do this, Baby. You turn me on fully clothed, and if all you ever want to give me is what we’ve already done—I can live with that.”
I feel his words trying to soothe me, I can feel them tickling my skin, and I try so hard to trust him. I don’t want to think he’s lying.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“You don’t think you’re hot?” He cocks a brow at me, and I roll my eyes.
“I am.” But my face heats because it feels like both of us are liars now.
And that’s stupid. Makes less sense than the nonsense he was saying before.
“I know I am,” I try again. “I own several mirrors.”
He nods his head like it’s perfectly reasonable for me to be that full of myself. “I just want to show you that I agree.”
“But how—you’re gonna handcuff me and blindfold me and… ” I swallow as I lose my train of thought.
“Worship you.”
My mouth dries. What could that possibly mean?
“What do I do?”
“Just let me.”
Like it’s that easy.
“On your back,” he says softly, being gentle. It’s… sweet. It’s the kind of voice an idiot like me has no choice but to listen to.
It’s not so bad, lying here on his bed. Right where he sleeps.
Where I was this morning. His room smells good, and when he gets the blindfold secured around my eyes, that smell is all I can focus on.
This blindfold is shaped for eyes, lightly padded so I can’t see anything at all.
It leaves me focused on him with the senses I still have—I can hear him, his every movement.
Feel the bed move as he does, smell him when he moves closer.
“If you want me to stop, or even slow down, just tell me.”
I nod. When his fingertips skim my stomach, I drag in a deep breath, trying to will my body to calm down. He removes my—his—shirt, guiding me to lift up just enough so he can pull it over my head. After that, I simply lay there. Wait.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous. He has already seen most of me. Touched me all over. It’s been done, so why is this so hard?
I can feel him straddling my legs and gasp when he grabs my waist, the touch unexpected.
He drags me down the bed, pulling a nervous laugh out of me.
He stays moving slowly as he secures both my wrists, leaving me to listen to the sound of pillows being moved and the bit of exposed metal on the cuffs clanking softly.
I can’t tell what he’s got them around, but one gentle tug leaves me unable to move them much, my arms extended above my head.
Bound and blindfolded with Logan Matthews on top of me.
Fuck. It hits me right then that this is one of the many dreams I’ve had about this boy.
He revealed this kink of his a while ago, told me what he was into, and hearing it had my mind racing.
Now I’m here, experiencing something I never expected to, but am somehow lucky enough to be living.
My dick betrays my apprehension with a quickness, begins filling as soon as the thoughts have formed. Logan has me at his mercy, and that’s not a bad place to be.
I expect nothing and am still surprised when I feel his lips on my neck, his warm breath ghosting over my skin as he moves across my collarbone. He’s so gentle, tender with my skin in a way I’m not at all with his.
“Stunning,” he whispers, and I don’t know if it’s his voice, the praise, or the puff of air over my nipple that has me shivering. Feels good. When his tongue slides over the stiffened peak, I can’t help the way my body jolts.
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“You’re supposed to react to me, show me how I’m making you feel.
” He licks over the same spot, his lips closing around it in a wet kiss until his mouth is gone altogether.
My breaths are coming faster and heavier, but I don’t make a sound until he blows across the skin, a cooling sensation that sends a shock straight to my dick.
It’s overwhelming. I’m not usually so sensitive there, but not being able to see has me feeling things more. I can feel the wetness at the tip of my erection, already soaking my underwear.
“Hurry,” I complain, my voice another surprise—high-pitched and whiny, and I don’t even think we’ve actually started. I don’t know what I’m in a rush to feel, but I need it. Now.
Something about his laugh tells me he has other plans.
I used to think that he was polite in the way he tortured me, but I was dead wrong about that one.
He moves even slower now, leaving me constantly guessing his lips’ next destination and coming up wrong each time. My navel, my ribs, more sweet torment over each nipple. My shorts are soaked—I’m leaking a fucking river and growing more and more worried that he’ll see it.
But he keeps me distracted—there’s simply too much going on for me to worry about my weepy dick. I am a little worried about his, though. The longer I go without feeling it, the more I start to believe that’s the thing my needy self was begging for.
I’m trying to stay quiet, trying not to show him too much so early on, but it’s overwhelming. Every single touch and kiss, every breath and whispered word, none of it is anticipated. None of it’s enough. “Logan,” I begin, a slurry of pleas about to leave my mouth before he speaks instead.
“Shh. I’m playing, Baby.” More smiles in his words. I can practically see it—one of his crooked grins, all sorts of sexy and swoony. Kinda makes me wanna smack him. “Be my good boy and let me.”
“Oh, god,” I whisper. I couldn’t possibly hit him now, not after that.
My hands jolt as he latches onto my neck, and I’m reminded that I couldn’t smack him even if I wanted to.
I lift my hips in a silent plea, but find no relief and groan. How long have I been here? Fucking minutes, I think. Mere minutes, and he’s got me falling apart.
“I adore you like this, on display. You’re pretty even when you cry, Baby.”
I open my mouth to tell him that I am not crying, but all that comes out is a quiet sob. I don’t even know why. This is not normal. We haven’t even gotten to the good parts, and I’m already gone.
But really, I’ve been gone for him. For a long time now.
“Logan,” I try again, hoping to get a complete sentence out this time. “I need…” I can’t think.
“What—what does my little vampire need?” He runs his tongue over my neck, licking one searing line— starting at my collarbone and ending at the point of my chin.
“You.”
His hand slides down the front of my shorts instantly, his fingers wrapping around me in an act of pure mercy. I moan loudly, too needy to think about being quiet.
“You’re fucking soaked, Baby.”
I whine, alarmed. He wasn’t supposed to know that.
“And all for me, huh?”
His voice dips low, some need of his own fully exposed in that one little question. He doesn’t mind. Of course he doesn’t. He knew this about me, has already had me in his hands—a slickened mess right in his palm, and he still asked for more.
I nod my head instead of answering him out loud, my next breath stolen from me with a kiss.
“If it’s for me, then I should probably taste it, right?”
“Oh.” That’s all I manage before he’s pulling the boy shorts I have on down my legs. I should stop him—I know I should. Save him from the disappointment, but I can hardly think. He wants a taste. Of me.
And he takes it. He runs that devilish tongue of his over the tip, and the only thing that leaves my mouth is another whimper. The sound of it is overshadowed by him, a low hum as I gush into his mouth.
I should say stop now.
“Please,” I say instead.
He gets me, knows what I want without hearing the words. He does exactly what I’d do if our roles were reversed, takes me into his mouth, and moans like he’s grateful for the opportunity.
Gone. I am so totally gone for this boy.
I can’t stop my hips from bucking, earning me a gag. If I were the good boy he wants me to be, I’d be sorry, but the way the back of his throat convulses around the head of my cock has me wanting more.
His fingers lock around my hips, each of his hands holding me in place so it doesn’t happen again. It’s maddening, the way he has me wholly contained. I can’t take any pleasure—he has to give it to me.
But, fuck, he does. He doesn’t suck dick like a straight boy at all. He takes me as deeply as he can, over and over, giving me visions of unexplored galaxies behind this blindfold.
“I’m gonna—” I sigh, unable to finish the warning.
And then his mouth is gone, pressure encasing the base of my dick and preventing me from coming.
I cry out, my orgasm ruined just like that. “Oh, god,” I pant as I try to convince myself that it’s a good thing I didn’t come in his mouth. He’s new at this—probably would have hated it.
“Sorry, Baby, but not yet.”
I lay there simply catching my breath, not quite catching on. Did he do it on purpose? When he gives me a lazy stroke, not enough grip to give me any real pleasure, I know the answer.
“You motherfucker,” I seethe. He’s edging me.
And the laugh he bellows tells me he’s fucking happy about it. “Don’t worry, love. I’m going to take care of you.”
I trust him, the words too sweet to be lies, but the wet heat he envelopes me in once more drags me to that peak only to disappear all over again. I cannot. I can’t fucking think beyond the need to come.
Please leaves my mouth over and over, and all he does is promise that he’ll take care of me.
When he slides a finger inside me, I fall for the lies once again.
That sting of pleasure can only mean one thing—but, no.
It’s a trick. His mouth works me over again, his fingers penetrating me on an endless loop. In and out.
I’m fairly certain I cuss him out. I beg him to fuck me, tell him I need it—him—inside me now.
“Fucking perfect,” he mutters in the midst of all of it. “You’re perfect, Baby.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss.
“My darling little vampire,” he has the audacity to lie. I am not a darling at all. I’m throwing a fucking tantrum, beyond needy. Selfish. I need him, and he knows it.
I don’t know for sure how many fingers he has inside me when I demand he fuck me, but I know I’m far past ready for more.
“This hole—that for me too?” he asks, and I’m screaming yes before he’s even finished.
“I’m yours,” I sob. “Please, Logan.” I am well and truly crying now. I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks.
And it’s not until his cock is notched right at my entrance that I stop. I settle, and a second later, I’m blessed. He slides inside me in one… slow… thrust.
All I can hear are the sounds of our breaths as he fucks me. It’s everything.
“You are mine, you know?”
I don’t answer him. I don’t have to—I feel it.
His.
He starts off slowly, fucks me in long thrusts until it’s too much for us both, and his hips are pistoning into mine. He takes me in his hand again. I know this is it—no more teasing.
I call out his name when I finally come. He stills inside me, lowers his chest until all I can feel is him—everywhere.
I sniffle.
“Logan.” I don’t know what I need now. He gave me everything—what more is there?
I don’t think he knows either. Not this time. He pulls off of me and away, leaving me handcuffed in his bed, and I’m left senseless.
“Here you go,” he says quietly as he unlocks the cuffs. As soon as my hands are free, I reach for the blindfold, but he beats me to it.
And there he is. I open my mouth, but have no clue what to say.
“So beautiful.”
I’m even more at a loss for words now. He can’t mean me.
“Shh.” He sweeps a thumb beneath my eye, wiping away more tears. “You are.” He kisses me, and still, I’m… confused. I’m confused. I think I’m crying, but amidst all of that, I’m also warm and… so happy.
He sits up to drag a cloth across my stomach, cleaning me off. He pushes my thighs further apart so he can clean between my legs, and I’m too out of it to deny him.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.” He slides his arms under me, his hands not resting until they’re on top of my shoulders.
“Oh.”
Logan settles on top of me, right where he’s supposed to be. “Thank you,” he says just before he slips his tongue over mine, stealing my breath with another searing kiss.
Being taken care of by Logan Matthews… feels pretty fucking good.