Chapter 7 #3
Brushing my lips over the protruding tips, first right, then left, I unhook the clasp and let the straps slide down her shoulders. The bra falls away, and her breasts spill free.
She inhales sharply.
Logan’s hands glide up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts from behind. I lower my mouth to one, taking my time. My tongue traces a slow circle before I draw her in.
“Oh, God.” She arches into my mouth, and her fingers bury themselves in my hair.
I let go of the nipple and focus on the other side.
Logan doesn’t miss a beat. He takes the wet nipple between his forefinger and thumb and rolls the bud between them, pulls at it.
We work in tandem like that for a bit, switch breasts until Josie is standing on shaky legs.
When I kneel to press a kiss along the soft curve of her belly, Logan’s hands move to the fastening of her jeans. He opens them and eases the denim down over her hips.
I press my lips to the inside of one knee as it’s revealed. Warm skin. The faint scent of her.
Logan helps her step free of the fabric. She stands between us in only thin underwear.
Her chest rises and falls faster now.
I straighten and let my hands slide up her thighs, over her hips. Logan’s mouth finds hers again, slower this time, deeper. She answers immediately, her body leaning back into him.
I slide the last barrier down her legs, inch by inch. My fingers brush the inside of her thigh, and she shudders.
When she stands bare between us, there’s no hesitation in her posture.
She reaches for us.
Her palms press against my chest and then Logan’s. Exploring. Claiming in her own way.
Logan’s hands move over her shoulders, down her arms, smoothing slowly as if calming a restless animal. I mirror him, tracing the length of her spine, feeling the way her muscles relax under our touch.
I guide her down gently, one hand at the center of her back, the other steady at her hip. She sinks into the mattress on a breath, hair fanning across the pillow, eyes dark and open.
Logan follows her down like gravity. He leans over her, capturing one breast in his palm, bending his head to taste her. She arches immediately, fingers sliding into his hair. The soft sound that leaves her mouth makes desire surge through my veins..
I move to the foot of the bed.
Her legs are still slightly bent, knees falling outward without instruction. I run my hands from her calves to the backs of her knees, easing them apart a little more, watching her chest rise faster as she realizes what I’m about to do.
I don’t go there yet.
Instead, I press my mouth to the inside of her right knee.
Her skin is warm. Silky. Sensitive enough that she inhales sharply at the first touch.
I drag my lips slowly upward along the line of her thigh, then stop short. My mouth curves lower instead, kissing across to the other knee. Back and forth. Mapping. Taking my time.
She shifts restlessly above me.
Logan’s hand tightens around her breast as he draws one nipple into his mouth. Her hips lift instinctively. A silent invitation.
I ignore it.
I lean in and kiss the soft hollow just beneath her navel. Her stomach tightens under my mouth. The muscles there flutter, delicate and reactive. I circle her belly button with the tip of my tongue, tracing the edge slowly, deliberately, feeling the tremor that runs through her when I do.
Her scent is changing.
Warming.
Deepening.
It wraps around me—subtle at first, then richer. A sweetness under the salt of her skin. Need rising from her like heat from sun-warmed grass.
Logan murmurs something against her breast, and she arches harder, fingers clutching at his shoulders. Her thighs try to close around me.
I hold them open gently.
Not forceful. Just steady.
I press a line of kisses across her lower belly, close enough to make her breath stutter, then drift away again. Up her hip. Back down the opposite thigh.
She makes a frustrated sound this time.
I glance up at her through my lashes.
Her eyes are glazed. Lips parted. Chest flushed.
“You’re cruel,” she breathes.
I let my fingers slide lightly over the inside of her thigh, not touching where she aches for it.
“Patience,” I correct softly.
Logan laughs low against her skin, and she writhes between us.
The scent of her need is unmistakable now—stronger, wetter. It coats the air between us. My mouth waters.
I lean in again, letting my breath ghost over the center of her without contact.
She jerks.
Her hips rise off the mattress, seeking me. Begging without words.
I settle my palms at her thighs, thumbs brushing upward, feeling the heat there. Feeling how slick she’s becoming. I want her open. I want her trembling. I want her so aware of every inch of her body that she forgets every doubt she ever carried.
I bend my head again.
This time, I lick the length of her slit, lapping up the juice generously spilling from her.
She tastes sweet and tart at the same time.
I use my thumbs to spread her open. Her clit is winking from under the hood, begging for my touch.
I press my tongue against it and wiggle experimentally.
It’s good I have a hold on her, because she bucks wildly. So fucking sweet and responsive.