He put two fingers on either side of my folds, slid through the wetness then hesitated at my opening.
“Logan. Please.”
“Beg me.”
“Logan.”
“Emily.”
“Please, Logan. I’m begging you.”
He plunged two fingers inside, and I inhaled sharply at the sudden assault. It grabbed me. Held me. It didn’t let go.
He pulled out, and I cried out with disappointment only to be met with a quick kiss on the top of my clit. Then he tore my jeans off the rest of the way and lay between my legs.
“Bend your knees.”
I did.
“Open. Wide.”
I did that too. I trusted him implicitly and him taking control felt like it was fulfilling a need in me to surrendered to him. I was able to forget everything and bask in whatever pleasure he gave me.
He gently pushed them a little wider still, and I closed my eyes and bit my lip as I felt the first suckle on my clit. Oh God. The sensations inside me were so heightened that I knew I wasn’t going to last more than a few minutes with Logan’s mouth on me. Never had I imagined it being like this. I moaned, arching my back as Logan’s tongue slipped inside me.
Gripping the grass on either side of my head I groaned as he worked magic with his tongue through the folds, tasting the wetness then suckling my clit again. The pressure in my abdomen ached, built, and was cresting. I tensed. So, so close to the edge, nearly pushed off the hill.
He stopped. “Not yet, baby.”
Oh God, how could I do that? “Logan, I can’t. I can’t hold—”
“You will.” His voice was rough and demanding, and it made me even hotter. His fingers pushed inside me. “So tight.”
He pumped in and out of me several times then licked me again. “Your pussy is perfect. I knew you’d taste this way. You’re made for me, Emily.”
“Logan,” I panted, every muscle tightening. “Please. I need you inside me now.”
He pulled his fingers from me, and then I watched as he licked them off one by one. I nearly came just watching him. The way his eyes glued to mine; seeing right into me. How the curve of his mouth partially crept up to a smile as he tasted me.
It was him. Everything he did, I adored. How he walked with confidence, not a swagger, but when he came into a room it was with presence. How he was chasing his dream with his band, willing to take all the money he had to try and make it in a business that was saturated with great bands. He took risks because he had faith in himself. How he didn’t take shit from anyone. How he put all of himself into whatever he was doing. But most of all, I loved how he looked at me and saw everything I am and could be.
“Are you on something?”
I nodded. “The pill. To control my ovulation pain.”
“I’m clean. I was checked two weeks after I met you and have been with no one since.”
He’d been with no one. He went and got checked? Was it because he thought . . . was he thinking about us?
“Yeah, Emily. I wanted to make sure I was good before I ever touched you, condom or not.”
Wow. “I want you inside me, Logan. I want to feel all of you.”
He leaned to the side and yanked off his jeans. I glanced down before he moved on top of me and glimpsed his erection—pulsating, huge—and wondered how the hell that was fitting inside me. Before I could start Lego building and scaring myself, I reached between us and touched him.
“Eme,” he murmured as my fingers curled around him then stroked every inch of him.
His penis was throbbing and hot, and as I caressed, his eyes closed, and his head tilted back as he groaned.
“Stop. Fuck. I’m going to come before I’m even inside you.” He grabbed his cock and rubbed it between my legs, the wetness clinging to him. “I’ll go slow, Mouse.”
My hand reached up to lock my fingers in his hair. “No, go fast. Just get that part over with.”
“No.” His voice was hard and firm. “You’re going to remember this, and not with pain.” His mouth descended as he sunk lower, his cock nudging my opening.
Wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his back, I pressed upward with my hips, and the tip pressed against my barrier. I couldn’t get him in any further, and my body was aching so bad I was going to scream.
He tore his mouth away from mine and grabbed my chin. “Look at me, Emily. I want to see you when I take you. I want to watch you while you scream my name.”
“Logan.”
He pushed his hips forward and moved in me a little further. I could feel him stretching my hymen, and I was sure he could too. He gripped my chin to make certain I didn’t move then rotated his hips and withdrew, and I moaned.
“Slow, Eme.”
He moved inside me again, and this time he kept going until I felt a sudden sharp pain.
Fuck. Shit. It hurt.
And yet . . . him erect and full inside me was . . . it was so connecting and surreal.
He leaned in and kissed me while he was sunk deep inside. A slow languished kiss that had me forgetting about the pain and instead filling me with a new urgency. I wanted him to move.
“Logan.” God, I needed him to move. I pushed upward, and he sunk even deeper. Yes, God yes.
“You good?”
The tenderness was overridden by the aching need. I nodded, and he began to move. I clenched my legs around him, ankles crossed on his back, both of us panting, our eyes locked on one another.
“You’re mine, Emily.” He moved harder, faster, and I tried to close my eyes, but he grabbed my chin. “Look at me.”