He kissed her inner thigh. “Lucky man.”
A knot formed in her throat. “He is,” she agreed, wiggling when he continued to kiss up her leg. She slid her bra and T-shirt off over her head while he kissed a trail over her belly. “He’s also still wearing entirely too much clothing.”
Logan grinned up at her and pressed a kiss to her mound. Her breath caught in her throat, and she watched, entranced, as his tongue crept out and slicked through the folds of her sex, his gaze on her. Desire rocked through her, and she shuddered.
“I want you naked on top of me,” she moaned when he continued to ignore her words, leisurely spreading her pu**y with his fingers and continuing to lick her in a measured, leisurely fashion that drove her mad with need. She whimpered, her hips bucking as his tongue circled her clit over and over again. He continued the slow, deliberate motions, not speeding up or slowing down despite her writhing beneath him, and the unhurried torment brought her to a screaming release when he casually thrust two fingers deep and began to work her.
When she’d recovered from the sudden orgasm, she leaned in and kissed him, laughing and panting. “‘Short is the joy that guilty pleasure brings.’”
He studied her, a smile on his lips. “Are you using Plato to criticize my techniques?”
Brontë laughed at his smug expression and pushed on his shoulders. “Not at all. Just sad that it didn’t last longer.” She leaned in and bit his earlobe. “And I’m pretty sure that was Euripides.”
“Ah. Good old Euripides.”
“Mmmm.” She ran a hand over his chest. “You are still wearing entirely too much clothing.”
He rolled over on his back, grinning at her. His c**k had formed a hard tent in his pants.
He looked so delicious that she immediately rolled on top of him, straddling him there. She grinned down at him playfully. “Now I have you right where I want you.” She finished undoing his tie and tossed it aside, then began to work on the buttons of his pants. “And I want you naked.”
Logan groaned, his hips thrusting up against her wet sex, driving his c**k against her. “I think I like you on top of me.”
“Do you, now?” She teased, exposing his pecs and breathing a sigh of pleasure at the sight of his chest hair. It felt like it had been forever since she’d seen him naked. The quickie in the freezer this morning had been nice, but it hadn’t been enough. She tugged at his clothing, exposing his chest, and ran her fingers over him even as he bucked his hips under her again. “I love looking at you.”
“It’s mutual,” he told her, and his hands reached out to cup her br**sts.
She gasped at the sudden surge of pleasure, then batted his hands away. “Clothes off.”
He sat up then and leaned in to kiss her as she straddled him. She slid her hands under his shirt,and they were able to push it off of him, and then his torso was exposed and beautiful and, my, she loved staring at his skin.
Brontë gave a little wriggle over his hips, a deliberate tease. “Now we need to get rid of these pants.”
He flipped her down on the bed in a quick motion that surprised her, and got up, ripping his belt off and flinging it aside. His pants and boxers quickly followed, and then he was lying down naked. But to her surprise, he grabbed her and rolled her back on top of him, settling her hips over his erect, straining cock. “I like you there,” he told her, and thrust again.
This time, she could feel his c**k slide through the slick lips of her sex, brushing against her clit, and she moaned at the sensation. He palmed her br**sts again, and she held his hands there, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his body against hers. “You’re right,” she breathed. “This definitely has merit.”
“We need a condom,” he told her, tweaking her ni**les. “In the nightstand.”
She leaned over him and reached for the drawer of the nightstand, laughing when he nipped at her breast as it dangled too close to his face. She opened the condom and gave him a challenging look. “Shall I do the honors?”
“Please do,” he said in a courteous voice that was ruined by the husky growl low in his throat.
Brontë moved to the side and took his c**k in her hand, working it with a few teasing squeezes. He thrust against her fist, and she leaned in and gave the head a quick lick, tasting the pre-come that slicked the crown.
“Tease,” he growled.
“You like being teased,” she told him, rolling the condom on quickly. Her own desire had escalated, and she was feeling aroused and needy again. She desperately wanted him inside her and was done with teasing.
She straddled him again, and his hands went to her hips, steadying her as she grasped his c**k and pressed it to the entrance of her sex. She ached for him, she needed this so badly. But she wasn’t used to being on top, and so she sank onto him with small, careful motions, rocking her hips a little to take him deeper and deeper. His hands on her waist guided her down until she was seated on top of him and full of his cock.
It was a delicious, overwhelming sensation. Every nerve ending felt alive, and he felt enormous inside her from this angle. Brontë bit her lip and rolled her hips a little, experimenting.
He groaned beneath her.
That was encouraging. She repeated the motion, rolling her hips even more, and was pleased when he rocked with her. She began a rhythm, moving over him and working her hips in a way that made him brush up against that spot inside her that drove her so wild. His movements echoed hers, and before long, she was increasing the pace, needing more and needing it faster, harder, than what she was doing.
His hips began to buck hard against hers, so that when she bore down, he thrust upward roughly. Brontë cried out each time he did, and when his hands moved to her br**sts, teasing the ni**les as she bounced on top of him, she lost control. She rode him wildly, lost to the sensation, until her entire body stiffened and began to quake with her orgasm.
“Brontë,” he growled, and she felt him clasp her hips again, grinding her down on top of him as he pushed to his own release. A moment later, he bit out a curse and shuddered, and she knew he’d come too.
She fell on top of him to catch her breath, twining her fingers in his chest hair. It was ridiculous that one man could make her feel so very good. Her entire body was one big bundle of pleasure right then.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her on top of him.