5 #2
It doesn’t hurt that his hands are gorgeous, I wish I could make sense of how that’s possible. The sort of jagged shape of his knuckles scratches some aesthetic itch I couldn’t voice when I was looking at them in the bar, wrapped around his drink.
“Sorry I made it weird,” I sigh against his chest half-hoping he won’t hear it, but I feel the rumble of a suppressed laugh in his chest.
“You’re all good, Ava,” he replies, voice all soft and low; it makes a shiver creep up my back.
“And what about you? Are you good after I did everything but say your dick is weird?”
He laughs a genuine, unabashed sound. It makes me smile as well, my unease melting away as quickly as it came. I’m really starting to like the sound of his laugh, the way each time he looks surprised that it happened at all.
“Well, as long as you don’t actually say that.” He exhales, and I lean down for a kiss.
There’s a pattern in the way Logan kisses that I’m starting to notice.
It’s two parts: First tensing up, his hands pulling me close and tight, every muscle centered on this moment, and then releasing like a sigh, coaxing me to melt into him.
I don’t even realize it until my knees go weak, his body cradling mine.
I skim my tongue over his lower lip, and I feel his weird dick twitch against my leg. I can’t help but smile against his mouth, and guide it to press against my entrance, hot and thick.
Sucking in a breath, I sit back up on my knees, sinking down on his cock, feeling every hard inch slowly, deliciously stretching my cunt to capacity. Ok, this is exactly what I wanted.
I lean back just enough to admire Logan’s arms, the curve of his bicep, his hands splayed out over my thighs. He moves to grip my ass possessively, forearms a tense line as he lifts me a couple inches up.
Gonna be real, that’s hot. I’m not exactly light either, I’ve put on a lot of muscle since I started working at Palmer’s. Those skinny-ass saplings in those buckets of dirt are fucking heavy, man.
Logan eases me down again, his cock sinking deeper into me, until that swell at the base is pressed fully to me, preventing him from going any deeper. It’s just enough, brushing perfection as he gives his hips an experimental thrust. By the hitch in his breath, I think he feels it too.
“Oh, that, mmh. Just like that,” I gasp, rocking my hips to try and scrape that sensation again.
I’m not totally ready for the way he interprets that, pushing up on an elbow, bringing our bodies close together. Seriously, what is it about saying, “Keep doing that,” that makes guys do the exact opposite?
But he curls an arm around my back, picking me up like it's nothing. I almost protest, “Dude I can do the work, stay down,” but he gets a knee underneath himself, and that’s when it becomes clear I’m not about to be touching the ground in any meaningful way.
At first I’m a little unsure of Logan holding me like this, but then he honest-to-god bounces me. I swear I see stars, even with my eyes closed.
Logan lets out a hiss as he lowers me down, taking me onto his thick cock again. I echo him with a little moan, as delighted as it is impatient for more.
“Mmmf, hard—oh, ha-arder,” I gasp, barely able to get the word out, but he obeys, nonetheless.
He supports my weight fully as he rocks his hips into me, or maybe I’m being rocked against him, I truly lose track of anything that isn’t my body against his.
My arms clutch automatically around his shoulders, my legs cross tight around his back.
Every time I come down again that swell presses into me, stretching my slick entrance a little further, teasing the thought that it might fit.
Distantly, I can feel the reverberations of my truck shaking beneath us, but mostly, all I can pay attention to is the resounding impact of Logan’s hips to mine, the way it travels through my entire body.
The noise I make when he brings me down and that rounded swell pushes fully inside is borderline pornographic.
I cry out, loud and brazen, and it carries into a whimper as heat floods my insides.
Logan stiffens, clutching my body to his, my nails tear a path across his back as I come harder than I’m ready for.
My insides flutter and squeeze around his cock, wringing his climax into me.
I can feel him unload into the condom, the heat of it flooding me.
When it subsides, I realize my face is buried in his shoulder, the two of us panting.
I don’t know that I dare to move for a few minutes, slowly taking stock of the sweat sticking to my skin, the fading pressure of his cock still inside me, the faint pulse as it twitches.
My muscles burn from clinging to him so hard.
There’s a mess seeping out between our joined bodies, and it only gets messier as I roll off him and he pulls out.
I make a grab for a blanket and clean haphazardly anything that feels damp and sticky.
I’m a little mortified to think that this might all be me, mostly because I didn't think my body was capable of this much. Like, yikes dude.
I’m gonna need to wash this blanket when I get back to my cabin. Until then, I don’t care enough not to flop over onto it with a satisfied sigh.
God, I needed this. I didn’t think I was gonna find it on a random rebound, necessarily. I am gonna sleep well for a week. I close my eyes, stretching and settling into the blankets with a yawn.
After a few moments, I take a peek at Logan and blink a couple times when I see him propped up on an elbow. Staring.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just looking.”
His eyes are a little too wistful as he watches me, and it makes me sit up quickly.
Cuddling isn’t on the table for me. I find my shorts in the corner of the truck bed, not sure where my underwear ended up, so I pull them on without it.
I grimace at the sensation of my wet thighs and everything else meeting the fabric.
I’m probably just gonna toss all of it in the wash when I get home.
The whole time I’m getting dressed, I can feel Logan’s eyes on me.
I dare a glance back at him while I button my shorts, raising an eyebrow, when he asks, “Hey, maybe I could see you again, sometime?”
There it is.
This is my least favorite part, every time, but it’s better than giving these guys hope that it’s going to go somewhere.
I hop off the tailgate, finding my shoes on the ground. Logan doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo, his jeans still open, dick laying spent across his hip.
I chew my lip for a moment. On the other hand, that was some extremely solid dicking. Maybe I’d be, like, doing myself a disservice the next time I’m desperately horny and kicking myself for not saving his number.
Against my better judgment, I nod.
“Yeah, I had a great time, maybe we could make this a semi-regular thing.” I pull up the new contact page on my phone and hand it to him. “You’re pretty good at that.”
Logan types in his number, then frowns. We’re back to that sharp, default look of his when he hands the phone back to me. “What?”
“The . . . sex?”
“Oh. Um. Yeah, thanks. I meant like . . . coffee?”
“You want to semi-regularly meet for coffee?”
His stern brow creases, and I know I’m being purposefully obtuse. I feel a little bad about it. He seems like a sweet guy when he’s not being his usual glaring, grouchy self.
“I meant like a date,” Logan clarifies.
I make a bit of a face and shrug. Better to draw this line in the sand now. “Oh. Yeah, um. I’m just not looking for a committed thing right now, y’know? I have a lot of things up in the air.”
He stares for a beat too long and then shakes his head. “Oh. No, yeah, we can just . . . ”
“Keep it casual?” I supply quickly, trying not to look too hopeful, but I can’t help but smile when he nods in agreement.
“Great.”
“Yeah.”