Crush

His eyes watched me as he gave himself a little stroke. “You like that?”


I nodded, my breathing coming way too fast—I was practically panting.

Logan dipped his chin to look down, and then he stroked himself again, this time pushing his hands forward and thrusting his cock into his fist.

In a rush, I moaned his name. “Logan.”

With a desperation only I understood, he quickened his pace.

Fascinated, I watched, taking notice of the way his muscles corded in his arms, the smooth skin of his cock and the way his hand easily glided over it, the pre-cum that glistened on his tip.

But my show was not for long because before I knew it, he’d stopped stroking himself and started stroking me with that cock, that delicious cock that was still in his hand. My clit pulsed and my muscles clenched in response. Full of need, my eyes found his.

“Come closer,” he said, and I did.

Lowering himself so his knees were now beneath him, he grabbed my hair as soon as I leaned in, pulled me onto his lap, and then captured my mouth with his. Giving me hard, wet, breathtaking kisses that made it impossible to breathe.

When I pulled back, my hands moved to his face. His hair had fallen forward and he looked rakish—impossibly sexy—as I pushed it from his eyes.

Logan didn’t waste any time as he gripped my hips.

My desire for him was so fierce I was wet long ago. There wasn’t any need for any further foreplay. Rising slightly on my knees, I lowered myself down onto his lap. Onto his cock. Slowly. Inch by inch. A little at a time. Exquisite pleasure started to surge all the way from my core. I didn’t stop until he was fully inside me. For a moment, I didn’t move, wasn’t sure I could without coming.

Logan took over for me, surging his body upward and taking control of mine with his hands on my hips. I drew in a shuddering breath and wrapped by arms around his neck. He pumped slowly at first and I found myself leaning in to kiss his mouth. I kissed him hard, and he returned my kiss with the same strength. We were all lips, teeth, and tongue. Wild. Frantic. And soon the energy transferred to our bodies. He started to fuck into me, faster, faster still. Abandoning the kissing, I pushed myself upright and began to ride him, matching his pace.

Cries of pleasure sputtered from his throat, rough, gravel-like, filled with a rumble. “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. That’s so good. That’s it. Oh, fuck, I’m going to come.”

Words that sent me right over the edge.

He pumped faster and faster and I followed in that rhythm that existed only between us. Unable to hold on any longer, I arched my back and closed my eyes. Pleasure filled the space in my head where my mind no longer was. In the space that should have held thoughts was nothing but flickering lights, small bright stars in a far distance, and colors of the rainbow. I rode out my orgasm in that place, not allowing coherent thoughts to reenter my mind until I had exhausted every ounce of pleasure that was coursing through my body from head to toe.

He murmured my name. My heart, which was already pounding, skipped a beat. Without opening my eyes yet, I answered with his name. “Logan,” I breathed.

In response, he rolled onto his side and his hands found mine. Lacing our fingers, he pulled me flush to his chest. “Come here.”

At the sound of his voice again, I opened my eyes and looked at him. If it was possible for your heart to be so full of love for someone that you felt it might explode, that’s how I was feeling. We hadn’t expressed our love in words since that dreadful night, but we both knew how the other felt. Those three little words didn’t always have to be spoken for someone to know it. Besides, how many times were those words spoken among people in an empty, meaningless way? “I love you” could be said without really meaning it. But showing it, that meant everything.

Satisfaction filled the air. We were both breathing loudly when Logan propped himself up on his elbow. I turned as well, folding my arm under my pillow.

Gently, he ran his fingers through a stray piece of my hair that had fallen to the side. When he tucked it behind my ear, he sighed. “I want to come with you today to your sister’s funeral.”

Treading cautiously, I grasped his hand tighter and brought it to my lips. “Logan, you know you can’t.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want him there—I did. But those calls frightened me and I didn’t know what they meant but knew they had something to do with Michael and I. For now, Logan and I would have to remain a secret.

Taking his hands from mine, he flopped onto his back and put them behind his head. “I want you to tell him.”

I moved closer, stroking my fingers over his chest. “You know I want to, but the calls are freaking me out. What if they have something to do with Michael? Or what if when I tell Michael that I’m involved with someone, with you, it doesn’t go over very well?”

Logan was quiet at first, and I wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

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