30. Maeve
30
maeve
I’ve been in Logan’s bedroom more than a dozen times over the past month. I know every inch of it, from the feel of the carpet to how many steps it takes to get from the bed to the dresser. I know without looking that the far-left switch is the one that turns on the main lights and that the room is lit perfectly with just the LED headboard that’s currently giving off a soft white light.
And yes, I know the thread count of his sheets and reluctantly picked the color since he wouldn’t tell me what he wanted.
Yet as I walk into his room and hear the click of the door behind me, it’s like I’m walking in here for the very first time.
“Finally,” Logan sighs as he starts to kiss the slope of my neck. After we left the office, we tried as hard as we could to sneak upstairs and perform a proper Irish goodbye. But that was easier said than done.
Hence why, two hours later, we’re finally here.
But the word “finally” is now hitting me with its double meaning. Finally Logan and I are going to be together. No more waiting. No more taking it slow. And yes, I know we’ve been together before, but this is different. Then we were two strangers who were going to have one night of fun.
Tonight is not that. Tonight is the first night of what is likely many to come. Tonight has meaning. Tonight is the beginning of a new chapter.
And while I’m a little nervous—what woman wouldn’t be?—I’m also excited. Energized. I feel like the woman I used to be, but in a new and improved way.
And I must say, I like this version of me. I like her a lot.
“Breathe,” Logan whispers, his hands on my shoulders. “You’re in control, Maeve. What do you want?”
My pussy clenches at those four little words.
What do you want?
What do I want? I want him. I want to feel his hands and lips on me. I want him to make me come so hard that the remaining party stragglers hear what we’re doing.
Those are just the few things off the top of my head. But then it hits me: Have I ever been asked that question before? I don’t think I have.
It’s so simple, yet somehow so complex at the same time. I’ve had to be in control with men more times than I can count. And it’s not because the person I was with was giving me that control. No, I had to take it. Because if I didn’t, no one else was going to, and then I was going to be left with a sore jaw, a dry pussy, and a best actress award for Best Faking of an Orgasm in a Comedy.
But here’s Logan, a man who I know could take control in five seconds if he wanted to. He did that first night we were together. But no. Instead he’s giving it to me. Letting me take the lead because he knows that’s what I want. What I’m craving.
And I don’t know if he could do anything sexier…
“Take off my dress,” I ask, turning to the side to give him access to my zipper. Could I do it myself? Yes. But I’m not about to turn down the opportunity to feel Logan’s fingers running down my side, sending goosebumps through me with every inch of skin he touches.
“Gladly.”
He steps to me, kissing my shoulder as he finds the zipper. His lips continue tasting every bit of exposed skin as his fingers do exactly what I hoped they do as my dress slowly releases from my body.
“Beautiful,” he says as his hand travels up my back and slowly pushes away the one strap of my dress. He tugs it just enough for it to pool on the floor, leaving me standing in front of Logan in nothing but a strapless bra, my three-inch heels, and a barely-there G-string.
All in black, of course.
“You’ve been wearing this all night?” His words come out in a near growl. “Jesus fucking Christ, Maeve…”
My body heats as his kisses become harder. I let my hand search for his cock, wanting to feel what I’m really doing to him.
I purr as I start to stroke him through his tuxedo pants. “You’re so fucking hard, Logan.”
“For you, Love. Only for you.”
My head falls back as Logan starts kissing around my neck, making sure not an inch hasn’t been neglected by his lips. He feels so good I don’t want him to stop. But there’s something else I want more.
I step away from Logan’s mouth, which I miss instantly. He’s slightly confused, and maybe even more so as I take his hand and walk him to his bed.
And yes, it has on the sheets, blanket, and comforter I picked out.
I sit down on the edge, crossing my legs as he stands before me.
“I’m in control?”
I know I am, but the verification would be nice, especially since I’m asking him to do some things maybe not every man would be into.
“Completely.”
Our eyes lock and a fire passes between them. “Strip.”
My command is simple and to the point, and I pray in this moment that I’m not freaking Logan out. Not all men would be willing to do this for the women they’re with, no matter what stage of a relationship—or hookup—they’d be in.
But only seconds after the word leaves my mouth, a twinkle hits Logan’s eye.
“You want a show?”
I relax back a little on the bed, my hands behind me so I can lean back but still get a full view. “I want to look at what’s mine.”
Fire. That’s the only word I can think of to describe the look Logan gives me as those words come out of my mouth.
The weirdest part? I’m not even phased by it. If tonight has proven anything to me, it’s that I’m in this. My brain and my emotions might be playing a little bit of catch up, but this man is here and real and the feelings I’m feeling are real, too.
And when you find them, you don’t let them go.
No. You claim them as yours.
Logan doesn’t say anything else as he slowly unbuttons his jacket, taking his time as he slips it off his broad shoulders. He tosses it to the side and makes quick work of his bow tie. I bite my lip as I watch in awe as he somehow unbuckles his cufflinks while never taking his eyes off me. With every second that passes, my body heats just that much more for him. My pussy is throbbing as I watch the show I asked for. But as much as I want him to relieve that pressure, I also don’t want to miss a minute of this performance.
“Do it,” Logan says as he takes a few steps toward me.
“Do what?”
He slowly starts unbuttoning his perfectly fitted white shirt, stopping right before the bed. “Touch yourself. You know you want to.”
How did he know? Is he a mind reader? He has to be. Either that or my sexual poker face is just as shit as my real-life one.
I didn’t even think to do it, having never done anything like this before, but between Logan’s words, my sudden boost of confidence, and thirsting for the man who’s stripping in front of me, there’s nothing more I want right now.
Well, other than Logan’s dick. But that will come.
And maybe first I will…
“Take them off for me.”
My request is received with nothing but a lusty groan from Logan. He does as asked, hooking two fingers through each side of my G-string and slowly pulling my panties off my legs. My legs slowly spread open, and yes, I could feel it before, but I can feel even more now.
“Jesus Love. Your pussy is soaked. Is that all for me?”
I nod as my hand trails down, rubbing myself, feeling my wetness and coating some on my fingers, while letting out a soft moan. I lift them up, not wanting to force it on Logan, but he doesn’t turn down my offering. He takes my fingers in his, grabs onto them and slowly sucks off every drop.
And that is, without a doubt, officially the hottest thing that’s ever happened in my life.
“You taste so good,” he whispers. “Keep going. Find your pleasure. Let me watch you come.”
I don’t know what I’m more transfixed by—Logan’s striptease that has just resumed, or his words. Both are sexy as hell in their own way.
There’s his body, which I assume is what sculptors’ dreams are made of. His shoulders are broad and built. His arms are big without being so bulky that they bust through a jacket. And his abs? I can’t help but lick my lips when I take them in.
He’s perfect. A god on earth.
My husband.
It might have started off as convenient, but it’s more now. So much more.
With his shirt off, he starts unbuckling his belt, and I start working the spot I know will send me into oblivion. I keep rubbing small circles at my clit as he snaps his belt off in one motion. He goes right in on unbuttoning his pants, and just as I think he’s going to slide them down, he stops.
“What are you doing?”
The smile on his face is wicked as he leans over me. “I know you’re in control. But that pussy looks so pretty.”
Shit, I think I just came from those words alone. “Do you want a taste?”
He nods and licks his lips. “Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” I say as I lay back. I want to tease a little more, but the words are taken right out of my mouth the second Logan’s tongue is on me.
I fall back on the bed, physically unable to hold myself up as Logan begins feasting on me. With my new position, he takes it upon himself to spread my legs wide and hook them with his arms, bringing me to his face so I have nowhere to go.
Like I’d want to go anywhere.
I cling to the comforter that I once thought would be a good accent piece for Logan but now realize I should’ve tested out its durability. Because this piece of fabric is the only thing that’s keeping my body on this earth right now.
My body starts to tighten up, my orgasm not far away. I don’t know how I even held out this long with what Logan’s magical tongue is doing to me.
“Logan…”
His name on my lips is all he needs to hear. His tongue continues rapidly flicking at my clit as I feel him push two fingers inside me. With one small hook I’m orbiting somewhere between here and Pluto. My back arches, I think I yell out words that aren’t English, and my orgasm rips through me, leaving my body visibly shaking.
“So fucking perfect,” Logan mutters as he brings me down. “And mine.”
That’s never happened to be before. Never in my life have I actually shook while having an orgasm. And one would now think that I’ll need three to five business days to recover. But no. I feel energized. Wanton. A woman possessed.
A woman who knows what she wants.
And I want my husband.
“Pants off. Now,” I demand, though Logan is already three steps ahead of me. I use the energy I have left to back up on the bed as I watch Logan’s cock spring free from his boxer briefs.
“Fuck…” I mumble. I’ve felt it since that night against me. Hell, I’ve had it in my mouth on the jet. But somehow I forgot how big he is.
“What do you want, Love?” he asks as he stalks to the bed, condom in hand.
“I want you to throw that condom aside and fuck your wife how you want to.”
His eyes are wide. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “Nothing between us.”
Logan drops the condom on the floor next to him before climbing into bed with me. He wraps me in his arms, kissing me as hard as he can as he rolls over so I’m on top of him.
“Ride me,” he says. “Take what you want. I’m yours.”
Those words hit me square in the chest, maybe more than anything he’s said. Harder than the first time he called me Love. The day we said “I do.” The day that he told me he’d never let anything happen to me or Jayce.
No, right here, right now, in the throes of passion, Logan Matthews telling me that he’s mine is what does me in.
I do as he says, gripping his cock in my hand and stroking it a few times before lining it up to my begging center. I start to feel full instantly as I let each inch of him slide into me.
“Fuck,” he moans, taking my hips in his hands and guiding me as I start to slowly ride him. “So tight. So perfect.”
My hands grip onto Logan’s chest as I begin moving up and down on him, doing my best to stay present in the moment and enjoy every second. The man has made it his mission to give me everything I’ve asked for—in and out of the bedroom. I don’t want this moment to go by and not memorize everything I can.
Our eyes are fixed on each other, each watching the other with such intent that it fills my heart. The sensation only makes me fuck him harder, wanting to bring both of us to the release we both want so much.
“Fuck me from behind,” I beg. “Just like that first night. Fuck me until I scream.”
I see the dilation in his eyes with each of my words. He doesn’t say anything, instead just does as I ask and rolls me over as I position myself on all fours.
Now, I know every inch of this room. I’m the reason each piece of furniture is where it is. But never did it occur to me that I so artfully placed a mirror in the perfect position so that one day I could watch Logan lining himself up to fuck me doggy style.
Wait. Should I add sex room to my resumé?
“Look at you, Love. So wet and desperate,” he says, realizing that he can look me in my eye as he’s fucking me. “Are you going to watch me make you scream?”
“Yes,” I pant. “Fuck me, Logan.”
“It would be my honor.”
And he does. This man who is a gentleman in every other facet of life fucks me like our lives depend on it. I feel his hand on my ass and the sound of the crack fills the room. The slight twinge of pain is perfect. And watching it through the mirror? Possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Logan’s hands begin to squeeze at my hips, driving into me harder and harder.
“I need you to let go, Maeve. Come with me.”
His words are a direct line to my orgasm that was slowly building but right now balances at the precipice. With just a few more thrusts I’m over the ledge, screaming for Logan as the orgasm rips through me. He joins in, a deep groan of pleasure leaving his lungs before he collapses on top of me.
I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know if anyone is still in the house. Frankly, I don’t care.
Because I’m Mrs. Logan Matthews. And I want everyone to know it.