Chapter 20
I crossed to the bed and sat on the edge so my butt was about level with his waist. He scooched a little more toward the center, then held open an arm for me to join him.
I kicked off my boots and peeled off my socks with them, then lay down next to him.
He put his arm around my shoulders and I rolled to my side, into him, placing a hand on his abs. So many abs. So well defined.
I couldn’t help the sigh that came from me when I ran my hand up and down his stomach and to his chest, populated with dark, thick hair, which only got darker as it disappeared into the fly of his jeans.
“Wanna talk about tonight?” I asked softly.
“Kind of. But I’m afraid to,” he said.
“Why afraid to? You share in Grief Inc. It’s not so different. Or is it different because it’s me? I mean, just me, not the group?”
“No, it’s not that. If anything, it’s probably easier that it’s just you. I mean, I know we sit side by side on Wednesdays, but in my head, I’m kinda just talking to you in there. That’s how I think about it, anyway. How I get through it.”
“Logan,” I whispered. I placed a soft kiss on his shoulder, then rested my head in the crook of his neck and shoulder, which felt proportioned precisely for my head. My hand rested at the top of his chest, my finger trailing along his clavicle.
“Yeah. Sorry if that’s too much,” he said.
“It’s not too much,” I quickly responded. I didn’t need to give the whole game away, but it was safe to let him know I cared too.
“Good. Good. So yeah, I feel totally comfortable talking about it with you. This shitshow of a night. But I’m afraid it’ll… I don’t know… kill the vibe.”
“Is the vibe more than what a shitshow this night was for you?”
He rolled to his side, his arm coming underneath my head, drawing me closer. His other hand rested on my hip. “God, I hope so,” he whispered, his breath minty as it hit me.
And then he kissed me.
I quickly snaked my arm around his neck, wanting to pull him even closer even though we were plastered to each other. Our tongues danced, moving together, like we’d done this so many times before that we already knew each other’s likes and dislikes. But we hadn’t. It was just easy together.
“Megan,” he said between kisses. He had his mouth on my jaw, then a quick glide of his tongue on my neck caused me to shiver. “It’s been too long. We waited so long.”
His lust must be measured in dog years like mine was, because yes, I’d wanted Logan Fields the moment I saw him five weeks ago, and it had seemed like an eternity before this night came.
The misgivings I’d had about tempering my feelings afterward slid from my mind, replaced with the sheer tactile yumminess that was Logan. He was hard and toned and hairy and soft, and smelled so good even though it had now been a few hours since he’d showered after the game.
I rolled to my back so I could free my arm that was pinned between our bodies.
One hand was not enough to explore his body.
Though I would have loved to peel his tee from his sculpted torso, that he’d already gotten rid of it only sped up my exploration.
His shoulders and forearms flexed as he shifted to be on top of me, holding himself up to look down at me.
Taking one hand, he scooped up my mass of hair (I’d pulled it out of its bun in the bathroom) and pushed it up onto his pillow so that it pooled around my head and was, thankfully, out of the way of my moving to touch him even more.
“Wait. Let me,” he said when I moved to shove the bulk of it behind me to allow for more freedom. I probably should have left it up, but thought this was sexier, if not a pulling hazard.
He sat up on his haunches, straddling my hips. “Let’s get rid of this bulky, heavy sweater—you must be dying of heat exhaustion,” he said.
My sweater was thin, and not in any way bulky, nor did it make me overheated.
If I was overheated, we both knew it wasn’t from my sweater.
I laughed and held my arms up, crunching a tiny bit to get my back off the bed.
When he peeled it off me and tossed it across the room, I exaggeratedly said, “Ooh, so much better.”
He laughed and continued on to the fly of my jeans. When he raised a questioning brow, I nodded and he undid them. He stepped from the bed as he pulled off my jeans, throwing them in the general direction of my sweater.
I was lying on his bed in my best bra and panty set. A delicate lace and silk combination in a soft lilac.
They had been part of the off-to-college shopping I’d done with my mom last year.
I hadn’t thought we’d do the lingerie part together, or at least not the sexy kind, but she’d suggested it, saying a girl needed at least three good sets of frilly, girly matching bras and panties, beyond the practical cotton stuff that I wore daily.
“Megan. Hey, Megan, stay with me,” Logan said from where he stood at the side of the bed.
He was attuned to me enough to know that I’d just had a flash.
I looked at his body, watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and stamped them down his legs and off, standing in black boxer briefs that hugged his spectacular ass and muscled thighs.
That sight was enough to pull me out of a mini grief rabbit hole.
“I’m good,” I said. “More than good.”
He smiled and climbed back onto the bed, taking up his position of only moments ago, straddling me, sitting back on his haunches, that great ass hovering right on my thighs. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. Momentary memory. Gone now.” I wanted to be as honest with Logan as he’d been with me. “You pulled me out of it.” Brutally honest. “Actually, your amazing body pulled me out of it. God, you’re gorgeous, Logan.”
He scoffed. Actually scoffed. “Pfft. What do you know from gorgeous? I’m looking at gorgeous.” He once again gathered my hair onto his pillow, fanning it out. “Jesus,” he whispered. “That hair, Megan. Even straightened, I’d know it anywhere.”
I hadn’t straightened it tonight, choosing to put it up in a topknot for the game, but I guessed he was talking about the first night we met, here in this house. Though his phrasing seemed kind of odd.
He leaned forward, bracing himself on his forearms near my head, careful not to land on any of my hair. His fingers sifted through it while his face came to mine, nose to nose.
“Hi,” he said on a sigh.
“Hi,” I answered just as softly. Our mouths were so close, and even though we’d just been kissing moments ago, it felt like I’d never tasted him before and was dying to.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Finally.”
“Me too,” I said.
“Meg—” My name was cut off by my mouth on his. I was unable to wait until he finished the syllable before I tasted him again.
His fingertips grasped the side of my head, like he didn’t dare let me go, as he deepened the kiss.
Again, I tasted mint and realized he’d probably just brushed his teeth for bed when I texted.
I knew I probably tasted of beer, but he didn’t seem to mind, if the way he devoured me was any indication.
I slid one of my hands up his forearm and around his neck, and my other down his chest, angling it downward as I did. His groan let me know I was on the right track, as did hitting the waistband of his briefs.
“Wait, I have to see you,” he said, shifting enough for us to get my bra off me, and it joined my growing pile of clothes on his floor.
He came back over me, but leveraged himself higher to see my tits. “Christ, but you’re beautiful,” he said, reaching out to cup one in his big hand. When he brushed a thumb over my hardening nipple, I shuddered and he smiled. “You like my touch.”
“Very much,” I said. I was all in on the honesty, it seemed.
“That’s good, because I very much like touching you.”
“Then keep doing it,” I said.
He laughed, then dipped his head and took my nipple in his mouth, pulling hard and circling with his tongue.
“Oh my God,” I said, my back arching off the bed and pushing my body deeper into him.
“No, it’s me, Logan,” he joked, then moved to my other breast. “Though I suppose I have been called a god on occasion.”
“Don’t be an assh— Oh, fuck that feels good,” I yelped as he squeezed me up to take even more of me into his mouth. I writhed under him, wanting the friction of his hard dick where I needed it.
“Not so quickly, Megan,” he said, then continued to suck on me, moving from one side to the other.
“Yes, quickly, Logan,” I pleaded. Actually pleaded!
His hips ground into me, and it was apparent he had about as much self-control left as I did. Which was not very much.
“Yeah, okay, quickly. This time,” he said. He reached over me, sadly having to leave my aching breasts unattended. From his nightstand drawer he pulled out a three-strand of condoms. He ripped one off, then went to toss the other two back in, but he stopped and placed them on top of the nightstand.
“Big talk,” I said, nodding to the other two condoms.
“Challenge accepted,” he said. Taking the condom in his hand, he brought it in front of us to tear open, and then got distracted by my tits, and the still-wrapped condom dropped to my chest while he freed his hands to touch and tease me once again.
My solid C cup was enough to play with, but not too much to cause back problems, thank God. And my girls liked to be played with.
And Logan knew how to play.
The tugging from his mouth caused a deep moan that conveyed just how much I was enjoying it.
“Me too,” he agreed with my unspoken words. “So, so much.”
Typically, in the early phases of foreplay and sex (not that I’d had that many partners, or that much sex, thus the idea behind Freshman Flings), my body would feel heavy, weighted, sinking into the bed. At least metaphorically.
And I kept waiting for that to happen, to get to that point with Logan, because then I’d be closer to getting off, as I had in the past.
But with Logan, I felt my body getting lighter, almost floating, as if his body above me was the only thing not causing me to float off the bed and hover on the ceiling.
It was a surprise. A delightful surprise. But would I be able to get—
“Oh, God, I’m going to come,” I said when he gave one of my nipples a pinch while sucking the other and grinding himself into me.
“Do it. Come, Megan,” he said, then returned to sucking. He moved his hand from my other tit down, skimming my rib cage, gliding over my panties and moving his hips aside just enough to rub on my clit.
My hips started to roll. He brought his head up to look down at me.
I wanted his mouth back on me. “More,” I said, the one word almost a gasp.
“I need to see you when you come. I need to watch.”
His finger continued to rub while my body tensed. Close. So close.
“You’re so close, Megan. I can feel it. Feel you.” His finger slid inside my panties. Inside me. Curled up and landed right where I needed him.
The lightness of my body exploded into heat.
Powerful. Consuming. I rode his finger. Fingers—he’d added another.
Clutching his shoulders, I tried to hide my face in his chest, uncomfortable with the strong feelings rushing through me as my body reacted.
But he wouldn’t have it, rising to be able to look down at me as my release continued.
“That’s it. Jesus, Megan, you’re fucking beautiful.” One of his hands (not that one, thank God!) took a fistful of my hair, pulling a little as he continued to finger-fuck me.
“Logan,” I gasped, trying to turn the corner, to come down. But he didn’t let me, his fingers changing rhythm just enough to keep the crescendo alive. The music kept playing under his conducting.
“Keep going. Fuck. You’re on fire.”
I was. I was on fire and it felt like I’d turn to ash any minute. There was no way to keep this flame burning without setting the whole house ablaze.
And then it peaked, causing another gasp and a shudder as my body stopped bucking beneath his and my head dropped to the pillow. Exhausted. Spent. Sated.
And aware that Logan was reaching for the condom, his fingers wet from me as he tore open the package.
“I don’t think I have anything left,” I said.
He smiled down at me as he shucked his briefs and reached to sheathe himself. “I know you do. We’re just getting started.”
“Impossible,” I said.
A look of concern flashed over his face. “But we don’t have to if you don’t want to. If you want to stop now, we can—”
“Shh,” I said, placing a finger on his mouth. He promptly kissed my finger, then sucked on it. “I want to. Very much. Full consent on my end. I’m just warning you it might be like fucking a rag doll. But a very, very happy rag doll.”
He laughed, and my finger and hand dropped to the bed, as drained as the rest of me.
“I’ve got faith you’ve got a rally in you.”
God, I hoped he was right.