11. Logan #3
The buckle clinks. I pull the belt free and drop it somewhere behind me. Her eyes track the movement, then snap back to my hands as I pop the button on my jeans.
"You've been patient," I tell her, dragging the zipper down tooth by tooth. "You deserve to see what you've been begging for."
She makes a sound—half laugh, half sob. "I've been patient? You're the one who's been—"
I shove my jeans down my hips, taking my boxers with them. My cock springs free, thick and hard, the head flushed dark and glistening at the tip. The cool air hits my skin, but I'm burning up. I step out of the clothes, kick them aside, and stand there letting her look.
Her lips part. No words come out.
I'm not shy. I've worked this ranch since I was old enough to lift hay bales, and my body shows every hour of it—broad shoulders, chest carved from labor, abs that flex as I breathe.
But it's my cock that has her attention now, jutting out from a trail of dark blonde hair, thick enough that my hand barely wraps around it when I stroke myself once, slowly.
"Like what you see?" My voice is sandpaper.
She swallows. "Logan. Please."
"Please what?" I wrap my hand around my shaft, base to tip, squeezing until a bead of pre-cum wells up. I spread it with my thumb, the slick heat making my jaw clench. "Tell me exactly what you want, Quinn."
Her hips shift on the mattress, thighs pressing together then parting again, restless. "You. Inside me. I need—"
"You need." I step closer to the bed, my cock bobbing with the movement. "But you've been taking what I give you so well. All those sounds you made when my mouth was on you." I stroke myself again, slower. "When my fingers were inside you. You came so hard you screamed."
A shudder rolls through her. The sheet binding her wrists goes taut as her back arches off the mattress.
"I can't—" She's breathless. "I can't take anymore."
"Wrong." I climb onto the bed, kneeling between her spread thighs. The mattress dips under my weight, and her legs fall open wider, welcoming me. "You can take everything I give you. You will."
The heat radiating from her cunt hits my stomach before I even touch her. She's still wet—still swollen from her orgasm, pink and glistening in the candlelight. The scent of her fills my head, salt and honey and something wilder, something that makes my cock throb in my grip.
I release myself and brace my hands on either side of her hips, leaning over her. My cock hangs heavy between us, the tip brushing her inner thigh. She gasps at the contact, her skin pebbling into goosebumps.
"Look at me." I wait until her eyes meet mine—hazel drowning in black. "I'm going to fuck you now."
Relief floods her face. Her whole body softens, legs falling open wider, hips tilting up.
"But," I continue, and her expression shifts, wariness creeping in, "I'm going to do it my way."
"Your way," she repeats.
I reach down and wrap my hand around my shaft again, positioning myself at her entrance. The head of my cock presses against her opening—just presses, not pushing in. The wet heat of her almost undoes me right there. My arms shake with the effort of holding back.
"My way means slow." I circle my hips, just barely, coating the tip in her slick. "Shallow. Until I decide you've earned more."
"Logan, that's—" She bucks up, trying to take me deeper, but I pull back just enough to deny her. A frustrated sound tears from her throat.
"Ah-ah." I click my tongue. "You don't get to take. You get to receive."
"I'll go crazy."
"Maybe." I shift forward, letting the head of my cock slip inside her—just the tip, just that first tight ring of muscle stretching around me. "Isn't that the point?"
Her cunt grips me like a fist, hot and slick and perfect. I stop there, barely an inch inside, and breathe through the urge to drive home. My balls ache. Every muscle in my body screams to fuck her hard, to pound into her until she forgets her own name.
Instead, I pull back.
"No—" The word rips out of her.
And then I push forward again, the same shallow depth, just the tip splitting her open before I retreat. Again. Again. Shallow thrusts that barely breach her entrance, each one leaving her empty before she can feel full.
Her hands yank at the binding. "More. Please. Logan, I need more."
"I know you do." My voice is steady even though my cock is weeping, even though sweat is breaking out across my shoulders. "Tell me how it feels."
"Cruel." She pants. "It feels cruel."
I thrust shallow again, and this time I roll my hips, grinding against her clit with my pelvis before pulling back. Her back bows off the bed, a moan tearing from her chest.
"Try again." Another shallow thrust. Another retreat. "How does it feel, Quinn? The truth."
Her eyes squeeze shut. "Empty. I feel empty."
"Good." I lean down and press my lips to her jaw, my hips still working in that maddening rhythm—shallow, shallow, shallow. "I want you to feel how much you need me to fill you up. Every inch."
"I already need it." Her voice breaks. "I've needed it since your mouth sucked my clit!"
"Have you?" I pull almost all the way out, hovering at her entrance. The cool air hits my wet cock, and I hiss through my teeth. "Or have you just been wanting it? There's a difference."
She opens her eyes, and the desperation there hits me like a physical blow. "Logan Wilder, if you don't fuck me deeper in the next ten seconds, I swear to God—"
"You'll what?" I push in, still shallow, still maddening, and her threat dissolves into a whimper. " You can't do anything except lie there and take what I give you."
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. The muscle in her jaw jumps.
"And right now," I continue, thrusting shallow again, "I'm giving you just enough to remind you how good it's going to feel when I finally bury myself balls-deep inside you."
"Then do it." The words come out strangled. "Stop teasing me and just—"
"Say it." I fuck into her shallow, harder this time, and her whole body jerks. "Say exactly what you want me to do to you."
Her chest heaves. There’s a sheen of sweat across her collarbone, her breasts, the trembling muscles of her stomach. She's falling apart beneath me, and I haven't even given her the first two inches.
"Fuck me." The words are barely a whisper.
"Louder."
"Fuck me." Stronger now, her hips rising to meet my next shallow thrust. "Logan, please. Fuck me harder. I need you to—I need—"
"Need what?" I'm cruel, I know it, but I can't stop. The way she's coming undone is too intoxicating—the composed strategist who calculates every risk, begging me to ruin her.
"I need you to fuck me senseless." She gasps as I grind against her clit again. "I need you to stop holding back and just—God, Logan, please. I'm begging you."
I hold there, barely inside her, my cock throbbing with the need to drive home. Her words echo in my head—fuck me senseless—and my control frays at the edges.
"Again." My voice is guttural. "Tell me again."
"Fuck me senseless." She's sobbing now, tears tracking down her temples into her hair. "Please. I can't—I need you inside me, all of you, I need—"
I pull back until I'm almost out, and then, finally, I thrust deep.
One hard stroke that buries me to the hilt.
Her scream shatters the air. Her cunt clamps down on me like a vice, so tight and wet and hot that my vision whites at the edges. I freeze there, fully seated inside her, my cock pulsing in the grip of her body.
"Fuck." The word punches out of me. "Quinn—"
"Don't stop." Her legs wrap around my waist, ankles locking at the small of my back, pulling me impossibly deeper. "Don't you dare stop."
I don't.
I pull back and drive home again, hard, setting a pace that's nothing like the shallow torture from before. The bed shakes beneath us. The headboard rattles against the wall. The sound of our bodies meeting—skin on skin, wet and filthy—fills the room along with her moans and my grunts.
"Is this what you wanted?" I pound into her, each thrust deep and punishing. "Is this what you needed?"
"Yes—God, yes—" Her hands twist in the binding, her whole body arching off the mattress to meet me. "Harder. Fuck me harder."
I give it to her. I give her everything I held back, every inch of my cock slamming into her cunt, stretching her open, claiming her. The wet slap of our fucking is obscene, mixing with the storm outside and the creak of the bed frame.
Her nails dig into her palms. "Logan—I'm going to—"
"Not yet." I slow my thrusts, fighting every instinct screaming at me to keep going. "You come when I say you can come."
"No—" She sobs. "Please, I can't hold it—"
"You can." I grind against her clit, deep inside, and her whole body shudders. "You will. Because I told you to."
Her cunt flutters around me, right on the edge, and I hold myself still despite the way my balls are drawing up tight. The restraint is its own kind of agony, my cock screaming to fuck her through her orgasm, to fill her with my cum.
"Logan." Her voice is wrecked. "Please. Let me come."
I lean down and capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her desperate sounds. My hips start moving again—slow, deep strokes that drag against every nerve ending she has. I kiss her like I'm drowning, like she's the only air I need, and I feel her body climbing again.
"Come for me," I whisper against her lips. "Now."
She shatters.
Her cunt clamps down on my cock so hard I see stars, her whole body seizing as the orgasm rips through her. My release explodes as I fuck her through hers, driving deep, extending her pleasure until she's wrung out and trembling beneath me.
Her breath breaks against mine, softer now, closer, and I feel her shift under my hands—not pulling away, not holding back, just moving with it.
With me.
This isn’t careful anymore.
It isn’t controlled.
And it definitely isn’t something either of us is pretending is part of the plan.