“Please show me what it looks like!”
“Stick your tongue out.”
I do as I’m told and he flicks it with his, just one lick before Logan stares into my eyes and slowly withdraws his finger to circle my throbbing clit. My moans become higher pitched, breathy, my breasts heaving as he holds my wrists above my head.
“Which side was it that you prefer,” he smirks, finding it, teasing me to distraction, but just shy of relief.
“You bastard.”
“Now Samantha, that’s not very nice. I thought you were supposed to be a nice girl.”
“You thought wrong.” Our lips lock and mold each other as our tongues lick, taste, dance. He’s cupping my pussy, only vibrating a couple times so that I can’t come until he wants me to.
Logan chews on my lip and demands, “Do you have any clue how many times I fantasized about fucking you?” His finger slips into my folds. “Think I’m gonna let you run the show? I want you to beg for me to finish you. I want tingles concentrated between your inner thighs, traveling up to your neck, the top of your head, until you can’t think straight anymore. I want the ache so deep, so intense that you can’t keep your eyes open or your pulse intact. I’m going to add a little bit more pressure to the side of your clit, increase my flicks while I barely touch you and then double down just a half second. You like that?”
“Please!” I whimper.
He brushes his lips against mine, and pulls away as I reach for a kiss. “Please what?”
I want to tell him to please fuck me, but I think if I say that, he won’t do it. And I want it so badly. “Nothing.”
“Okay.” He releases me and walks away, gorgeous back undulating as he opens his towel and closes it again. He did that because he knows I want to see him, and he’s facing away from me! “I’m going to get ready for dinner.”
Still pressed against the wall, I drive my hands under my dress hem. “Come back.”
Logan cuts a look over his shoulder, wet strands of hair hanging over his eyes as he sees what I’m going to do. He runs back so fast that the towel unlatches and his cock bounces free.
My breath hitches at the sight.
Much larger than I expected.
I moan, staring at it.
Dropping to one knee, Logan takes my hand. “Will you marry me, Sam?”
“Ask me again,” I smirk, “when you have a ring.”
Blue eyes smoke up as he shakes his head like he’s angry at me. Staying down there, he slowly pulls up my dress and gazes at my matching panties. Tugging them down inch by inch, he leaves them mid thigh as he stares at my pussy. “You're beautiful.” I inhale deeply as he spreads me with his fingers and gives my clit a little lick. “So wet. Salty sweet.” He tugs the panties out of the way, leaving them hooked on only my right ankle. His tongue goes to work just like his fingers did. They quicken and slow their pace like he knows me.
And he does.
My tummy clenches as the burn starts pounding in my walls. I want something inside me. Anything! His finger would be okay. But I’ve got my eye on the length that hangs between his thighs as he squats with a dancer’s strength, never losing balance or focus. “Going to cum for me, Sammy? You going to cum on my tongue?” I spread my right leg open a little more. He’s sucking and licking my pussy until I cry out, heat coming in thick hot bursts of pleasure. Logan growls like some primal beast who’s caged with his prey on the other side taunting him. He wants to be fucking me right now, but making me cum like this is so satisfying since he’s in control of us both.
Unwrapping my pussy against his tongue, he groans and slides a finger inside to give me really slow pumps as a seed bursts inside me. I start swearing under my breath because the contractions are so sweet.
This is Logan doing this to me.
My friend since childhood.
The best friend I almost lost.
Because I didn’t see real love had been staring me in the face all along.
Chapter Forty-Three
LOGAN
“Do you still like sweet, white wine?” I’m looking at a leather bound menu, pages long.
She leans over the table, “I’m so mad at you right now.”
While I thumb through our choices I casually ask, “Because I’m making you wait before I fuck you?”
Covering her face, she laughs, “Be quiet!”
The waiter comes up. He either didn’t hear me or he’s pretending. “Can I help you with any wine selections, Sir?”
Sam and I exchange a brief look at him calling me that. I’m daring her to laugh, and she’s trying hard not to. “The lady will have the Sauvignon Blanc. Actually, I see you have two options. Give me the pricey one.” I turn the page to a cocktails list that I don’t have the patience for. “I’ll take Jameson on the rocks.”
He relieves me of the wine list and heads away.
“I’ll have the pricey one?” Samantha laughs. “Classy.”
“You know what I realized while I was traveling?”
She takes a sip of her water and shakes her head.
Leaning casually back in my chair, I rest my wrist on the white tablecloth. “That it’s much more fun to act a little crass than it is to act like you have a stick up your
