Chapter 4 #2
I can feel him settling between my legs, spreading me wider. His hands grip my thighs like they belong to him, and I’m too far gone to care.
Then he lets out a hot breath.
And I feel a single, devastating lick.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, head falling back. The blindfold makes it worse—better—everything.
“You taste so damn good,” he growls against me, voice ragged. “Sweet. Addictive. Filthy in the best way.”
His tongue works in slow, wet strokes, and just when I think I can’t take any more, he adds his fingers. One slides inside me, then two, curling just right, while his tongue keeps up its sinful rhythm.
My hands twitch against the restraints. I want to grab his hair. Pull him closer. Anchor myself somehow. But all I can do is feel.
Every thrust. Every flick. Every dirty word he murmurs between strokes of his tongue.
He groans low as he slides his fingers deeper, curling them just right, while his tongue works in tandem—slow, then fast, then a maddening tease, like he knows exactly how to make me beg without saying a word.
The clamps on my nipples pull tight with every breath, every shift of my hips. The mix of pleasure and pressure is almost unbearable—in the best possible way.
“God,” I pant, head pressing back into the pillow, heart thundering. “I can’t handle it.”
“Yes, you can,” he murmurs against me. “You’re doing so good for me. So fucking sweet. So wet. Just let go a little more.”
My whole body is trembling now. I’m spread wide, bound and blindfolded, completely at his mercy. And loving every second.
“You gonna come for me?” he asks, noticing my movements. His voice is hot silk and sin, and that deep timbre slays me. “While your pretty little nipples are clamped tight and my tongue is buried in this perfect pussy?”
The filthy words send a jolt through me. I cry out, the orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave.
My thighs clench. My back arches. My breath stutters and breaks.
“Good God, Logan. How are you…”
My ability to speak trails off as I come hard. I unravel around his fingers, his mouth, and the pressure of those damn clamps that somehow pushed me over the edge.
And through it all, he doesn’t stop. Just rides it out with me, tongue still coaxing, fingers slowing but firm, holding me right at the edge until I’m gasping and barely tethered to the mattress.
When he finally pulls back, I feel his breath on my inner thigh, warm and smug.
“You taste like heaven, Cassie,” he says, lips brushing my skin. “And I’m just getting started.”
He hovers over me, and I feel his hands trailing down my flushed, trembling body as he carefully releases the clamps—one, then the other.
The blood rushes back hot and fast, and I cry out as the sting melts straight into raw, aching need. His thumb brushes slow circles over my nipple, soothing and stoking all at once.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, like it’s a secret. “You take pain like it’s pleasure.”
Then I hear it. The soft, wicked hum of the vibrator as he flips the switch.
“Logan…” I breathe.
But he’s already sliding it between my legs. I jolt, gasping, the pulse of it hitting just right, relentless and perfect.
“You love this, don’t you?” he says, voice low and rough. “Being teased. Worshipped.”
“Yes.” I nod. I feel so wild and helpless with Logan.
But it’s not enough.
“I want to see you,” I whisper, barely audible. The vibrations are too much to take.
For a moment, he says nothing. Then he reaches up and slowly lifts the blindfold and turns the vibrator off with the remote.
Light floods in. And him…God.
He’s standing at the edge of the bed, naked now, broad and cut, his cock thick and hard and heavy between his thighs. My breath catches. He’s pure sin. And I want all of it.
“Please,” I whisper. “Let me taste you.”
He tilts his head like he’s considering it. Then his mouth curves into a dark smile.
“You begging?”
I nod, lips parted, desperate and wrecked. “Kinda hard to move, though.”
With a few swift moves, he removes my restraints and tosses them aside.
As I readjust to my newfound freedom of limbs, his fingers curl under my chin, lifting my face.
“On your hands and knees,” he says with a wicked grin. “And open that pretty mouth.”
I do.
And coincidentally, being on my hands and knees is the perfect height to take him.
He groans as I take him into my mouth, slowly, deliberately, until the tip hits the back of my throat. He fists my hair with one hand, the other gripping the edge of the dresser like he’s holding on for dear life.
“Fuck,” he mutters, jaw tight, head falling back. “You’re gonna ruin me, Cassie.”
He starts to move—slow at first, then deeper. I breathe through my nose, letting him guide the rhythm, letting myself be used…but not helpless. Not even close.
My hands slide up his thighs, over the ridges of his hips, until I reach his abs. They’re hard and defined as they flex beneath my touch. I press my palms against him, fingers splayed, feeling every quiver, every tremor I cause.
He looks down at me with glassy eyes, pure heat blazing behind them.
“You like knowing what you’re doing to me?” he pants. “You like watching me fall apart?”
I moan around him, and the sound makes him shudder. His grip in my hair tightens, but it’s not control—it’s desperation. Like he needs me to keep going just as much as I need to be there, on my knees, driving him mad.
“You’re so fucking hot like this,” he growls. “So goddamn filthy and sweet.”
And for one wild second, I realize: I might be the one who can barely breathe, but I’m the one who has him undone.
I can feel him twitch in my mouth, and I know he’s close—but he doesn’t give in.
Instead, he gently pulls back, the tip of him slipping from my lips with a hissed breath. “Mmmm,” he groans, voice ragged. “You’re gonna kill me.”
My cheeks are flushed, lips swollen. I look up at him with a smug, satisfied smirk—and then I feel it.
A pulse right on my clit.
My breath catches. “Oh my God.”
He holds up the remote, eyes wicked. “Forgot for a second I had this.”
I whimper as the next pulse rolls through me. My thighs clamp together, hips bucking slightly as the tension inside me coils tighter and tighter.
“You thought you were in control?” he teases, brushing a hand over my cheek, then tangling it in my hair. “Cute.”
I try to glare, but it’s hard to look intimidating when you’re gasping and moaning on the floor, undone by one little toy and the sight of his abs flexing above me.
“Get on the bed,” he says, low and firm.
I don’t hesitate. My legs barely work, but I scramble up and crawl backward across the mattress, the vibrator still humming against me, sending shockwaves through my core. I’m trembling.
He follows me, slow and predatory.
“Lie back. Hands above your head.”
I do as he says.
“Good girl.”
He climbs between my legs, his palms rough and warm as they glide over my skin—up my calves, along my thighs, tracing reverently over the curve of my waist and the swell of my breasts.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to my stomach. “I could spend hours tasting every inch of you.”
And then he does. He drags his mouth across my skin, worshipping me with kisses, slow licks, gentle grazes of his teeth. Every movement is a promise. Every pause, a test of patience.
“I want you writhing,” he whispers, trailing a kiss between my breasts. “Begging.”
“Babe…I’m already begging,” I murmur. “I need it.”
The vibrator pulses again between my thighs—stronger this time. My back arches on instinct, a helpless gasp leaving my lips. He chuckles, low and rough, like gravel poured over velvet.
“Good,” he says. “I want you desperate for it.”
His hand cups my cheek, grounding me, soft in contrast to the tension building everywhere else. Then he leans in and kisses me again. His mouth is deep and drugging, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my mouth.
I barely hear the rip of the foil packet before he slides the condom on, his body pressing over mine, the weight of him heavy and real.
“Look at me,” he murmurs.
I do.
He lines himself up, slow and steady, holding my gaze as he begins to push inside, and I forget how to breathe.
My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches me open, inch by inch. I’ve never felt so full and so claimed.
“Fuck,” he grits out, voice thick with restraint. “You feel even better than I imagined. So tight.”
“Well, it’s hard not to be tight with how big you are.”
He grins, and his hips roll forward with a measured, intentional control, like he’s savoring every second of sinking into me. When he’s fully seated, buried to the hilt, he stills.
“Keep those eyes on me,” he orders, his voice low and commanding. “I want to see every damn second of you coming undone.”
I nod, trembling. My body clenches around him in answer.
“Yeah. You like that?” he murmurs. “Being split open like the good girl you are?”
My breath catches. I don’t recognize the noise that escapes me, half-moan, half-whimper.
“Oh, you do like that,” he says darkly, and then he starts to move.
Gently at first, and then his thrusts are deep, dragging pleasure across every inch of me. His body pins mine, one hand gripping my wrist above my head while the other slides beneath my lower back, angling me just how he wants.
He pushes all the way in, slow and brutal, like he owns me. And maybe, for tonight, he does.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice wrecked. “Cassie, you were made for my cock.”
My back arches, hands scrabbling at his shoulders for something to hold on to. He doesn’t give it.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, smirking down at me. “All stretched out, moaning like you’re in heat. You like being taken, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I mewl out.
God help me, I do.
I love it.
I love the way he talks to me—filthy, rough, like I’m the only thing in the world he wants to ruin. Like my pleasure is his to grant…or deny.
His thrusts are savage now. Relentless. He’s deep—impossibly deep—dragging a cry from my throat with every stroke.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls. “Dripping for me. You going to come like a good girl?”
I moan. I’m high, helpless, and hungry. And here for everything this experience has to give me.
My brain scrambles for something coherent, but there’s nothing left but heat and need and yes. Yes, I want this. I want to be devoured. Worshipped and ruined and made new.
“Say it,” he demands, grinding into me. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “You. I’m all yours.”
He snarls something primal and slaps his palm against the headboard for leverage, fucking into me harder. Deeper. I swear I see stars.
“You’re going to come all over my cock,” he says. “And when you do, I don’t want you to hold back. If you want to be loud, be loud.”
My body is already there—trembling, clutching, desperate.
And he knows it.
His hand slides down between us, fingers circling my clit with ruthless precision.
“You want it?” he pants. “Then earn it. Beg.”
Please, my brain whispers. Please, please…
“Please,” I cry out. “Please, I need to come—I need—Logan—please…”
His hand tightens on my hip, his rhythm relentless. “What do you need? Say it.”
“I need you. Just you.”
“Mmm.” His growl pushes me over the edge. “Come for me. Come all over that cock.”
And I do. I shatter and scream as I fall apart in his arms like I was meant to be taken this way.
And through it all, one thought loops through my spinning mind.
God, I love how he ruins me.