Logan
He heard the door to the bathroom open and his cock sprang to attention before she even appeared. Fuck. It was like the flood gates of the Hoover Dam had been broken. He wanted to have her again so bad; it was excruciating. Nothing, not even the months of torture he’d endured had hurt more than being denied Emily.
Logan lay on his back, one arm crooked above his head as he watched her walk out of the bathroom wearing his white button-down shirt that barely covered her ass. She looked like a timid angel; she was nervous, her steps hesitant and pausing near the bed. He made no secret of his appreciation and took in every inch of her. She flushed under his intense gaze; and it was sweet, and his cock was already swelling, needing her again.
He thought he’d lost this woman. He thought he’d die in that shitty cold cellar. Raul had done a number on him, gutted Dave right in front of him, and that was only the beginning. Being a fighter didn’t help against chains that held his muscles stretched past their limit. He could remember hearing the click of the door, the inevitable slow stride of Raul as he walked through the darkness until father stood in front of his son. Then Raul asked the same question he asked every single day for months. “Where are they?”
And Logan gave his same answer. “Fuck you.” He’d suffer a thousand years before he’d give up Emily or his mother’s location. Deck had relocated his mother, and Emily was safe at the farm with Deck and his men making certain nothing touched her.
Yeah, he was screwed up after Deck got him out of there, took three months to physically recover and then another few to get his head on straight. He grew up with fucked up shit; he knew how to cope, block shit out. That didn’t mean he didn’t have trouble dealing; it meant he found an outlet—his music.
“Logan?” Her soft voice was a whisper of sweetness, and he shoved the memory into the locked, black box of his mind.
“Baby, come here.” She almost looked fragile, the shielded look in her eyes was gone. He’d fucked it right out of her. It was about goddamn time too.
She knelt on the bed, and the shirt moved up to reveal her inner thigh. He groaned as his cock twitched again. This is what she did to him. He was putty in her hands, and the fucked up thing was she thought he was the one in control.
When she started to crawl up from the end of the bed toward him like a cat, he nearly blew his load. Every muscle tensed, and he was panting like a female dog in heat. She wasn’t trying to be sexy; it was just the way she moved that sent his libido through the sky right into Pluto.
He couldn’t take watching her anymore and grabbed her under the arms and pulled her up against him. “If you’re not sore, I’m fucking you again.”
Heat flashed in her eyes, and he wanted to bow to the Gods for giving him this woman. A water droplet slipped down a strand of her hair, and he caught it between his fingers before it dropped onto her shirt. He slipped his finger into his mouth and tasted the scent of her shampoo, coconut papaya with a hint of vanilla.
He rolled her over onto her back then came on top of her, grabbing her hands so they were above their heads. “Hold the rails.”
His cock was at full attention and hardened further when he saw her submit to his command. She was so submissive, and she didn’t even know it. Damn, she was made for him. Screw the shit that went down. Screw everything; this woman had him locked to her, and he’d suffer a million Raul’s in order to be right where he was now.
“Logan.”
And that right there, her soft begging of his name could undo any man. He grit his teeth to keep from plunging into her and not stopping until he came. Instead, he hardened his jaw and gave her what she wanted and needed.
“Use one hand. Play with your breasts.” He waited, watching to see what she’d do, and slowly, she obeyed, caressing the swells, her fingers circling her nipples. “Pinch them.” Her mouth fell open, hesitant at first, but she did it. And it was beautiful. Her back arched, and she gasped as her fingers tightened on the perky red peaks. Damn.
“Harder.” He saw the reluctance again. She needed this just as much as he did. “Harder, Emily.”
When her fingers squeezed her nipples this time, he saw her wince, and every one of her muscles lying beneath him tightened. Perfect. Fuckin’ perfect. He pushed her hand aside then leaned down and grabbed her nipple between his teeth and pulled until he heard her suck in air. Then, he swirled his tongue soft and sweet around the nub, soothing the pain.
“Open your legs, baby.” There was no hesitation at that, and he smiled as he reached between them and felt her soaking wet already—or still. Whichever, it didn’t matter. Her pelvis tilted toward him, and he shook his head. “No. Wait.” He wanted to laugh when he saw her frustration, the adorable flash of defiance in her eyes and then the deep breath and her resolve to obey.
He slipped his finger inside her and groaned. So tight. No wonder his cock wanted her so bad.
He curled his finger inside her while his thumb played with her clit, circling, stroking, changing between hard and soft pressure, never letting her body know what he was doing next. He watched her face, the play of emotions telling him when she was getting too close and he needed to back off.
“I can’t take it. Stop torturing me.”
She was a little pissed now, and he couldn’t have that. She should know better. He stopped his thumb’s movement but kept his finger inside her, completely still. He let her make the mistake and move up against him, trying to get what she desperately needed. Fuck, it was like being handed a slice of heaven. He almost caved seeing her body move up and down on his finger, and if he hadn’t just had her in the shower he would’ve said fuck it and taken her.