Reality sinks into me as I lie on top of Logan’s hard body. What have I just done? The very thing I’d promised myself not to do. The thing my sister warned me about. Logan is a playboy. I’ve had my share of such men and they are not capable of staying with one woman.
It would be terrible if I wanted a relationship. I don’t. I just needed my itch scratched for tonight, as I told Logan. This was not a mistake. Not as long as I stick to what I said and make sure that it doesn’t extend beyond tonight.
Peace descends over me, and my eyelids grow heavier.
***
At first, I’m sure I’m dreaming but when I open my eyes, the hand on my nipple is still there. I’m startled at first, then memories from the night flood back.
Logan. Shit. I should have moved to my bedroom. It’s not too late. I inch away toward the edge of the bed. Logan’s hand leaves my breast and moves to my hip.
“I should go,” I tell him weakly, already remembering how it feels when his big dick fills me.
“That will be cheating,” he says. “It’s not morning yet and you promised me one night.”
I always keep my promises, so I slide back into the bed and face him. He slips a hand around my waist and lowers it to my ass. Logan brushes his lips against my neck, and I shudder with renewed need.
I press my breasts against his chest, and he lets out a growl.
“I’m going to fuck your sweet pussy until morning,” Logan whispers into my ear, and heat pools between my legs.
I’ve never been with a man who is so comfortable talking dirty. His hand leaves my ass and snakes between my legs to stroke my pussy. It feels so good to have a man’s hand there. It’s been so long since I had sex. Way before Ivy was born. And never like this.
His cock pushes against my thigh and suddenly a deep ache comes over me and I need to feel him inside me. Now. I push him gently to lie on his back and I straddle him.
“I love a woman who takes charge,” Logan says.
I grin in the semi-darkness and reach for his cock. “Oh God,” I cry as I sink into him. I love how his big cock forces my folds apart and stretches my pussy to the limit.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Vanessa,” he says stroking my breasts.
“So are you,” I tell him, meaning every word. He’s ripped in all the right places but more than that, he knows how to turn his body into a pleasure machine.
He drops his hands to my ass and lifts me off his cock until only the head remains buried in me. Then he slams me down and I cry out, feeling as though a heated sword has stabbed me. Could a man get hotter than this? I brace myself by laying my palms flat on his hairy chest. He raises me and slams me back down again.
“Oh God,” I whimper, feeling as helpless as a rag doll. Wild sensations carry me like high waves deep into the ocean. I’m close to orgasm and Logan can sense it. He raises his hips and rocks upward to meet me as I slam into him. Sweat breaks out all over my body. Then a fire ignites my body. I cry out his name as I ride out my orgasm.
I clench my pussy muscles and seconds later, Logan roars and lifts me up.
“Fuck, I almost came inside you,” he said and then proceeds to apologize for not wearing a condom. “I’m safe though, I promise.”
“I’m safe too,” I tell him. I take my pills religiously but not because I expect any action. It’s because it stops me from cramping. The only thing I’d be worried about is STDs, not pregnancy but if Logan says he’s safe, I believe him. Despite his reputation as a playboy, there’s something steady and solid about him.
“We have a couple more hours before it’s morning,” Logan says as he spoons me. “Let’s catch some sleep.”
“Goodnight,” I tell even though I’m not sleepy. I’m too heady to sleep and besides I’ve had enough sleep. Five hours is usually enough for me.
I give Logan ten minutes and when I’m sure that he’s asleep, I slowly pry myself from his hold and slip out of the bed. It takes a few seconds to remember that I had no clothes when I entered the room. I find my towel on the floor and wrap it around myself. Pausing at the doorway, I glance at Logan’s sleeping form one more time. A feeling of heaviness comes over me. I have a knack for meeting the wrong type of man, but Logan feels different.
I recall how he took charge when the cottage flooded. In all my past relationships, it’s always been me taking charge. For the first time, I’ve spent a passionate night with a man who is not a wimp. A strong man. An out-of-this-world lover. Regret comes over me. I wish we had met at the right time. But then again, do playboys ever change their ways?