“What’s my name?”
“Logan William Richards.” There was no hesitation and no confusion.
A small breath of relief left me, but before I could do anything else, she pulled my head back down to hers and started kissing me again. This time she dominated our movements, tilting my head to the side so that she could deepen the kiss.
Threading my fingers into the hair at the back of her head, I took back control once the tension left me, around the same time that pushed her chin against mine, like she was trying to get me to do it anyway.
Feeling the change, she pulled back slightly and muttered against my mouth, “Thank God for that.”
Things quickly got even more heated, because she pushed her hands between us and pulled her t-shirt up her body, then over her head, separating our mouths again.
I got my first look at her and the panties she was wearing.
I wasn’t a man who had an ideal woman. Personality was attractive to me, and stereotypical beauty could come without that. Whenever I met a woman who was amazing to look at on the outside but came without anything on the inside, I shut down. I’d learned my lesson in high school, and there was a point when a guy had to outgrow that shit.
The point I’d done it was at eighteen when I graduated and decided on my path in life. Maybe I was old before my time, but I learned lessons through experience, and nothing hit you harder than los
ing your best friend and the other half of your soul because you were a shallow dickhead who didn’t have the guts just to fess up.
And that was the crux of the last seven years for me. I hadn’t had the spine to do that, and I’d lost the best person to ever happen to me outside of my family. Trust me, that eats away at someone, so that lesson was learned and applied to how I’d lived my life for seven long years.
That meant that I wasn’t expecting the punch that an almost naked Bexley, visible thanks to the light coming through the partially open door from the hallway, would have. I’d dreamed about it, sure, but no dreams ever prepare you for reality.
Staring down at her in amazement, I managed to croak, “Fuck me.”
“I’m trying to,” she snapped. “But you keep stopping.”
Shaking my head to clear it, I skimmed a hand from the base of her abdomen up to just under her right tit. “How is your skin so soft?”
With what I dealt with at work and how I lived my life, it felt like the roughness of my hand was going to graze her if I wasn’t careful.
Her right hand trailed its way down to my side and onto the small sensitive patch on my stomach, making me flinch. Whether she knew this or not was undetermined, but she quickly found out when I jerked as she moved it.
“Logan,” she said slowly, moving her thumb over it again and smiling when it got the same reaction out of me. “If you don’t start moving again, I’m going to go to the bathroom to take care of things myself.”
The meaning behind what she was saying filtered through the haze in my brain, which was still trying to come to terms with what I was seeing.
Scowling at her, I growled, “No.”
One word, but it said everything I needed to.
Swooping down, I went straight for her nipple, sucking it into my mouth and groaning as she fisted my hair again. With a small tug, she arched her back and pressed her breast into me even more, then wrapped her legs around my hips and ground her crotch against mine.
All that separated us was a thin pair of sleep shorts and her panties. I couldn’t sleep with underwear on, they were too restrictive for me, so the loose, thin cotton of the shorts was as much as I could bear at night when I wasn’t alone in my own place.
At that moment, I was damning and thanking them because they allowed my dick to have some space without squashing it, given how hard it was, but they were also a barrier between us.
Like she was reading my mind, her hands shifted under the elastic waistband and started to push them down, taking over with her feet when she couldn’t reach it anymore.
By the time I kicked them off, I had her panties pulled down, managing to get them to mid-thigh without too much of a problem.
It was when she moved her legs to take over their removal that I said a quick prayer that she wouldn’t knee me in the crotch in the process. Thankfully, that never happened, and after some laughter from both of us, as she stuck her leg over the edge of the bed and kicked it around to get rid of them, I was able to lower back down on top of her—skin to skin.
My hand had only just started to move up her thigh toward her pussy when she pulled my face away from hers with another tug of my hair.
“A couple of facts that you need to know right now: I’m on the pill, and I’m clean,” she said seriously, then added, “Oh, and I’m ready.”
Two of them made sense, but the last one wasn’t computing for me. “What?”