Smart, Sexy and Secretive (31 page)

Her hands trail down my chest, and she
rolls the bars that pierce through my nipples. I bury my head in
her shoulder and breathe against her skin. I just had her last
night, but I need her again. And again and again. I suspect that I
will never tire of her.

Her hands slide down my sides, and she
shoves my boxers down over my hips. Her greedy little palm wraps
around my dick, and I’m immediately fighting the urge to come. I
pull my hips back in warning. She lets me go but not without a
pout. I pull that lower lips of hers into my mouth and slide my
tongue across it, nipping her gently. Her breaths are broken, and
her legs open even wider so I can press my dick against her
wetness. She rocks her hips.

“
Not yet,” I
chide.

She groans, the rumble of it moving
from her chest and into mine. I slide my fingers into her wetness,
parting her lower lips so that I can pull forward some of the
slickness that is her desire for me. I circle her clit, and she
arches against my hand. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and she
pulls it until I look at her. “Now,” she pleads.

I’ve been with a lot of women, but I’ve
never been with one who works so hard to communicate with me. She
knows I can’t hear her cries or moans or even startled gasps, but I
never feel disconnected from her.

“
Do you want me to use a
condom?” I ask, lifting my lips from hers long enough to watch her
face.

She shakes her head.

“
You sure?”

Her eyes meet mine. “If you need one,
I’m fine with that. But don’t do it for me.”

I grin. Thank God. I’ve never felt this
way before, and I don’t care to have anything between
us.

Emily shoves my shoulder, rolls me onto
my back, and climbs up to straddle me, her legs spread on top of
me. She rocks her hips, sliding back and forth along the ridge of
my dick. Her desire sucks at me, and I can’t wait any longer. I
reach down and lift my dick so I can slide inside her. She sinks on
me, slowly taking me inside. She’s so fucking tight that I can
barely breathe, much less move. But she’s so, so, so very wet, and
after she rises and falls on me twice, my way is clear. I take her
hips in my hands and speed her up a little, but she shakes her
finger in my face and scolds me. I reach above me and hook my hands
beneath my head. It’s the only fucking way I can keep from taking
over. I need her so bad. I look up at her, arching my hips to meet
her every fall and retreat.

Emily balances on my chest,
her hands flat, as she rolls my piercings with her thumbs. Her
lower lip draws between her teeth, and she bites down. Her brown
eyes meet mine, and she mouths the words
I
love you
.

Her movements begin to break and
falter, and her pace becomes less rhythmic. She tosses her head
back, her hair falling over her shoulders. I pull her down to me,
changing her angle so that my pubic bone will rub her clit. She
cries out, if the hot, wicked little breaths striking my chin are
any indication. She’s so fucking wet, and that velvet glove that is
her pulls at me. I’m going to come before she does.

I reach down and strum my thumb across
her clit, and she leans back ever so slightly to give me access.
She smiles, and she speeds up. I watch her face as her eyes close.
Her legs begin to shake, but she doesn’t stop. She rides me, her
breasts bouncing, their perfect roundness calling to me. I tug her
nipple with my free hand, elongating it with rough
pulls.

Emily leans forward, balancing her
weight on the palms of her hands, and then she begins to quake. She
comes, trembling on top of me. I don’t stop strumming her clit. I
work it, watching her face as she rides out the storm. It’s not
until she pulls my hand away from her, shaking her head in
admonition. She’s sensitive since she just came. She makes me move
my hand back, but she doesn’t stop moving above me. I take her hips
in my hands and speed her movements, pushing hard into her every
time she falls. With a quick tug, I pull her against my chest and
spin her over, my arm behind her back. Now she’s below me, and I’m
in charge.

I push in and out, and she pulls my
head down, her hands tangling in my hair as she kisses me. It’s
passionate and sweet and so full of want that I can’t hold off any
longer. Her legs wrap around my waist, changing the angle ever so
slightly, and I see the look in her eyes. She reaching for a second
orgasm, and damn it, I’m going to give it to her.

I bite back my own need to come, and I
push her legs toward her chest. Her bottom rises, and I can take
every inch of her in this position. Her head thrashes back and
forth on the pillow and, it’s not until I feel her orgasm wreck her
that I let her legs fall and come inside her. I move in her,
grunting as she takes me, letting me finish, letting me make us
one, letting me have all that she is.

I still on top of her and start to roll
to the side, but her arms wrap around me and hold me close. I rest
on my elbows, so fucking spent that I can barely move. I lean more
heavily onto her and brush her hair back from her face. She’s
sweaty and beautiful and mine.

She complains when I move, trying to
clutch me closer to her, but I just need to pull the covers back.
Then I move her up to the head of the bed and slide in beside her.
I cover us both and wrap my arms around her. She reaches over and
turns off the lamp. I have a night-light on so that we can have
pillow talk, and she doesn’t seem to mind it. She’s facing me so I
can see her lips.

“
Should we talk about the
condom thing?” I ask.

She blinks those pretty brown eyes at
me. “I’m on the pill. I think we’re okay.”

I kiss her shoulder. “And if we’re
not?”

“
Then we still will be.” She
grins at me.

Yes, we will be.

Emily

I wake Logan by placing quick kisses
across his naked chest. He sleeps like the dead, since he can’t
hear. Nothing usually wakes him, but apparently this does. The
sheet tents quickly, prompted by the length of his manhood, even
before his eyes blink open.

His arm wraps around my naked back, and
his blue eyes meet mine. “Morning,” he says, looking down at me.
“Why are you so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this early?” he asks.
He props a hand beneath his head so he can look down at my
face.

“
I can assure you there’s
nothing bushy about my tail.” I took care of that with a day at the
spa before I came back to New York. I laugh when he chuckles and
growls, rolling me beneath him. He tosses the covers over his head
and inches down my body.

“
What are you doing?” I ask.
I quickly realize he can’t hear me, and I tap his shoulder. He
tosses the covers back and looks up. “What are you doing?” I ask
again.

“
I didn’t get to see enough
of your non-bushy tail last night.” He grins and opens me up with
his fingertips, looking down at the most private part of me while
he licks his lips. “Not bushy at all,” he says. “Kind of wet,
though.” He slides a finger inside me. “Really, really wet.”
Another finger joins the first, and he scissors them
apart.

His lips rest right above where the
triangle of private hair would be if I hadn’t just had a wax, and
he kisses me softly. I squirm because what he’s doing feels really
good, but I’m also mortified by the intimacy of his actions. He
acts like my body has been his since the beginning of time. Like
there’s no thought of indecency or embarrassment between us. I like
it. I like it a lot. I can imagine him having this same intimacy
and more with my body when we’re both old and gray. When we’re
helping one another shower rather than having sex in the shower.
When we’re bedridden instead of lying in bed making one another
sweat. I can already imagine it. And I love it.

Yes, it frightens me sometimes. What
sane woman wouldn’t be scared to death of a man who can make her
feel the way Logan makes me feel? No one.

I love this man. I love every part of
him. And he apparently loves every part of me if his questing
fingers and his foolish grin are any indication.

I tap his shoulder. “You’re going to
have to let me up.”

His eyebrows draw together. “Why?” He
parts my lower lips and blows across the center of me, and my feet
arch of their own volition.

A blush creeps up my face. It’s
absolutely absurd to be embarrassed when his fingers are inside me,
but I really have to pee. “I need to go to the
bathroom.”

He grins and flips me over. I think
he’s helping me get up, but he’s not. He climbs on top of me and
straddles my thighs. He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my
neck. He spreads the cheeks of my ass, and I feel the head of his
dick probing my wetness. “Let’s try this while you have to pee,” he
says. I’m mortified at the very thought of it. “You might come
harder.” He pushes himself fully inside of me. I want to protest,
but he feels too good, filling me with his length.

He can’t see my mouth in
this position, but he can see my hands.
If
I come any harder than I did last night, you might have to call for
a doctor to restart my heart.

He chuckles. I love him so much. He
starts to move inside me, and I swear he’s hitting a spot that’s
never been touched before. “Do you still have to pee?” he
asks.

I shake my head. I don’t have to pee at
all. Logan rocks my hip so he can slide his hand beneath me, and he
bumps my clit, then flattens me over his forearm. I lift my bottom
so he can move his fingers, pushing back toward him as he rides me
slowly, pushing in and pulling out as he rubs my clit in small,
tight, delicious circles.

“
Have you ever used a
vibrator?” he asks. His breaths are heavy in my ear and his arm is
trembling by my shoulder, but he keeps up his lazy thrusts. “Have
you?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“
Your clit is so sensitive,”
he says, his voice like melted butter, smooth and slick. “I think
you’d like one.” He rubs me so slowly, and I can’t bite back my
groan. He smiles against my shoulder. “Would you let me use one
with you if I bought it?”

I’d let him do just about anything
right now as long as he keeps doing what he’s doing. I don’t
respond.

“
I think you’d love it.
You’d get off so fast. Even faster than normal.” His fingers are
practically wicked, and his hips continue to pump, shoving him in
and out of me so slowly. I push my bottom back, and he takes even
more of me. I try to speed him up, because I want to come so badly.
But he’s so slow and methodical. His fingers on my clit move
quicker. He knows what I want, and he gives it to me. “So
sensitive,” he says.

I break with a muffled cry, my face
pressed into the sheets to keep myself from screaming, and he
continues to rub my clit, milking every last shiver and shake of
pleasure from my body. He stills inside me as I come.

“
God, I love the way you
squeeze me so tightly when you come,” he says. His words make me
crazy, and he knows it. I shiver and collapse against the bed. I’m
spent.

Having to pee didn’t make
me come harder
, I sign.
Just for the record.

“
It doesn’t improve that
kind of orgasm,” he says, and I feel his rumbly chuckle against my
back. “It makes this kind better.” He shoves my right leg forward,
pushing it out to the side and up. Then he spreads my ass cheeks
and starts to move.

My breath leaves my body. I can’t
think. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything but hold on tightly to
the sheets as I arch my back, giving him every single inch of me,
and I take everything he has to give me. I’ve never felt like this,
never had this kind of stimulation. He’s not even touching my clit,
and he’s making me crazy. He’s rubbing some part of me inside that
I didn’t know existed.

His heavy grunts in my ear tell me he’s
close. But I’m closer. This orgasm isn’t like the last one. It’s
completely different, and it’s more intense than anything I’ve ever
experienced. “Come with me,” he growls. He grows bigger inside me,
if that’s even possible, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop until
I fling my head back, coming around him. This one is a warm wash of
pure pleasure, nothing like the shaking, quaking clitoral orgasm
from before. He grunts and says my name over and over as he comes,
and I stretch out across the sheets. I can’t move. I can’t think. I
can’t talk. He pulls out of me, quivering as he does so, and he
falls down beside me. His breaths are harsh, and he’s struggling to
compose himself as much as I am.

“
Do you still need to pee?”
he asks with a chuckle.

“
I might if I could move,” I
say. He tweaks my nose and laughs. It’s a throaty sound, and it
makes me so happy to hear it. “Where did you learn that?” I ask. I
realize my mistake as soon as I make it.

He shrugs and avoids my gaze. I reach
for him, making myself come out of my post-coital stupor, and I
climb up on his chest, elbowing him so that he winces and I can
take his mind off my mistake. I don’t want him to feel guilty for
his past. I can’t change it. And right now, I’m damn glad he has
one because I’ve never had an experience like that. Just think what
I was missing.