“You’re so slow,” Knox chides when Logan’s a few feet away. “Our grandma moves faster than you!”
“Is that right?” Logan challenges. “I may be slow, but I’m faster than you.”
“In your dreams.”
“I’m so much faster than you that I could beat you in a race carrying Bianca on my back.”
Knox smirks. “You’re on.”
Logan crouches in front of me, and before I can think better of it, I jump onto his back, quickly removing my towel first.
He folds his arms under my thighs and hoists me into position, and I’m instantly aware of my breasts pressing into his bare back.
Logan moves to line up next to Knox at their designated starting line, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
“I’m going to fall!”
“You’re not going to fall. I’ve got you.” His deep voice is reassuring, but at the same time seems dangerous.
I’m now clinging to his body, my hands clutching at the bare skin I’ve been trying to avoid looking at all day. It’s a recipe for disaster.
4
Everything goes wrong
As the two brothers briefly debate the length of their race, the ocean breeze fills my senses with the scent of Logan: a hint of chlorine, the warmth of the sun, and man. Logan’s only two years older than me, and a lot of guys around my age still seem like boys, but Logan is all man, and I’ve never been more aware of that fact than I am right now.
I’m torn between wanting the two of them to hurry up so this can be over, and wanting to stay pressed against Logan’s body forever, when they’re finally ready to begin. After Cade jogs up to the point where they’ve decided to finish so that he can referee, Ryder, standing next to us, shouts, “Go!”
My position slips as soon as Logan starts to run, and apparently he feels it, because he shifts me higher on his back and pulls my legs in closer so my thighs are tight against his abs.
He moves impressively fast for having me on his back – it’s a little scary but also exhilarating. When he swerves around some washed-up debris, I grasp at him to avoid slipping, my fingers trying to gain purchase on the smooth hardness of his strong pecs.
After clearing the obstacle, Logan’s pace is steady, and my piggyback ride turns into rhythmic bouncing against his bare back. This is when everything goes wrong.
The feeling rises and overtakes me before I fully recognize what’s happening. If I’d had warning, maybe I could have shifted position or insisted on being let down, or done something – anything – to prevent what happened.
But, instead, legs spread wide around Logan’s body, pressing against so much of his bare skin, hanging on tight, bouncing against him, feeling all of his muscles working – it all results in something terrible.
I’m suddenly unaware of the race, or even of where I am in space and time, as an overwhelming sensation rises inside me. I’ve had orgasms before – just a few – all of them in the privacy of my own bedroom, and none of them when I’ve been next to a man.
My thighs clench around Logan, heat rushes up from my core to my chest, my breathing goes ragged, my pussy throbs, and I come.
I come.
I fall apart, riding on my friend’s back, in this situation that is not sexual – that is not supposed to be sexual at all.
I’m overcome by the orgasm for what seems like way too long, and when it finally recedes, shame and humiliation race in, bringing tears to my eyes. Just as Logan’s crossing the finish line, my head is spinning with What the hell was that? and What the hell is wrong with me?
If I’d been riding on Cade’s back, then maybe – maybe – this would make sense, because I had a crush on Cade at first sight, and still fight those feelings – but Logan? And here, in public? With me having no control over it. No warning.
I’m somewhat aware that Knox won the race. Brotherly trash talk is going on as Logan crouches down so that I can slide off his back. My legs betray me too, and I drop down into the sand in a little heap, like the ridiculous person that I am.
“Bianca, are you okay?”
Cade, Logan, and Knox are all standing over me, and Ryder’s approaching quickly. I wish I could transform into a ghost crab, burrow into the sand, and disappear. Speaking of crustaceans, I’m sure I’m red as a lobster with embarrassment.
I cast my eyes downward to avoid the men’s gazes and find that my nipples have hardened into pebbles, poking out against the fabric of my suit. Great.
“What happened, Bianca? Are you okay?” Cade kneels in the sand and searches my face.
I don’t want to imagine what exactly they’ve seen, or why they’re asking. The thought of any of it is beyond anything I can endure.