Heat Wave (24 page)

Before I know what's happening, he's pushing me back, his massive body looming over me. “Get on the floor,” he says, his voice husky and rich, screaming of sex.

I drop down to my knees on the rug, staring up at him while he quickly yanks down his sweatpants. His cock bobs free and I'm breathless once again.

There are pretty penises and there are some decent dicks, but Logan has been packing one hell of a python in his pants. I know I've felt it before, its mass crushed against me while we kissed, but now that it's in front of me, it's fucking dangerous-looking.

I can barely tear my eyes away from his cock to look up at him. Of course he looks smug—why shouldn't he—but there's a sense of awe in his eyes, like he can't believe this is happening. That makes two of us.

Since I'm already on my knees and I'm salivating for the taste of him, I grab his ass with one hand, my fingernails digging in as I tug him toward me. With my other hand I grasp his cock at the base, making a ring around it. He's so goddamn hard, it's like velvet steel, and silky to touch. I can feel the hot blood rushing underneath, the way his cock ticks with each beat of his heart.

I close my eyes and tentatively slide my tongue along the sensitive underside before circling his crown, dark and lush, licking at the precum. The salt hits my tongue, revving my desire for him to another level.

His hand goes into my damp hair, pulling lightly, and he groans as I try and take him all into my mouth.

“I told you I wouldn't last long, Freckles,” he says breathlessly. “I mean that still.” He pulls away from me, his cock wet and bobbing from my mouth and glances down at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “No offense, you can suck me off later if you're so inclined, but if I don't fuck the living hell out of you right now, I might just die.” He jerks his chin at me. “Turn around.”

My heart is pumping hard in anticipation as I pivot around on the rug so I'm on all fours, my ass raised in the air. He drops to his knees behind me and I hold my breath, waiting for his touch.

Swiftly he lifts up my dress until it's bunched around my waist. I expect him to slide my underwear down over my ass but instead I hear a fucking
rip
as he tears it in half.

“What the fuck?” I cry out and try and turn around.

“I'll buy you new ones,” he says gruffly, moments before he grabs my ass, squeezing hard so I stay in place. I flinch, the pressure from his fingertips is firm and yet the moment he yields, I want it even more.

He pulls me toward him as he positions himself and with one swift jerk, pushes into me. The air is expelled from my chest as he fills me, a gasp broken on my lips.

“Are you okay?” he asks, shuddering the words as he pushes himself fully inside.

I can’t speak. I can’t think. I can only feel, every single inch of his hard cock as I squeeze around him. I try and nod, get my breath.

His grip around my ass tightens. “I can’t promise I’ll be gentle,” he says. “But I can promise you’ll come so hard you won’t know any name but mine.”

Holy hell. His words shock me to the core, dirty enough to make my skin grow even hotter. I’m on fire inside and out.

“Does that sound good?” he asks, his voice thicker now. “Can you handle that?” He pauses, slowly pulling out in such a teasing, languid way that it’s torturous. I feel empty, aching for him, I want him to fill me up and up and up, like a balloon ready to burst.

“Give me hell,” I tell him and if I feel a flash of embarrassment over talking like this, it’s over in a second because his hand cracks across my ass with a loud slap as he hisses, “Yes,” and then he’s pounding into me, fast and deep and relentless. Over and over and over again, this breakneck pace that has me trying to hang on to the rug for dear life, my breasts jiggling with each quick, hard thrust.

“You feel better than heaven,” he says through a husky groan. His pumps become quicker, deeper, and messy, like he’s losing control and going over the edge and taking me with him. I’ve never had a man in so deep like this, not just inside me but inside my head. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I shouldn’t have and he’s fucking me like we might lose everything tomorrow.

The same urgency that’s running through him is running through me. I drop onto one elbow, and with my other hand reach for my clit, the pressure building to unbearable heights as he fucks that sweet spot inside me.

“Don’t cheat,” he growls, batting my hand away and grabbing the back of my hair until it’s gathered in his hand. He pushes forward until my cheek is pressed into the rug and he’s holding me down, grunting hard with each thrust.

Jesus. He’s out of control. He’s become someone else, an animal, a beast, as relentless as the waves. I’m at his mercy and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more than for him to take such control and just fuck the living hell out of me.

Hell, heaven, whatever this is, I know it’s something I’ll never come back from. I know I’ll never want to. In my wildest, kinkiest dreams about him, it’s never been
this
good.

While he yanks back at my hair and then holds me down in place, he slips his other hand under my stomach, his fingers finding my clit.

I’m so wet, slick and ready for him, it doesn’t take long for him to push me to the edge. I feel just as I did when I was surfing, at that terrifying moment when you know you’re going over. But the waves here are completely different. They promise to make me anew.

He is merciless, grunting hard with each thrust, this rough, animalistic noise that gets louder and louder the closer he gets to coming. It’s such a fucking beautiful noise that it causes the heat to build in my core, coaxing the last bit of fire I have left.

I don’t even have time to tell him I’m coming. It just happens, quick and swift, and I’m swept away, tumbling and turning, over and over as the orgasm churns through me. It’s an undertow, it’s a rip, it has me in its clutches and I never want it to let me go. My body quakes and shudders from head to toe as I pulse around him. I am light and heavy and my heart has wings. I never want to feel anything but this, never want anyone else but him.

“Veronica,” he groans out my name and then I feel him as he comes, the pressure in my hair, the slamming of his hips into my ass. The sounds coming out of his mouth are crude and I’d give anything to watch his face as he empties into me. “Yes. God, yes.”

His thrusts slow down, his hand in my hair slowly letting go, releasing the pressure from my head. He’s breathing hard, his hulking body hovering over me. Drops of sweat fall onto my back, making me shudder.

Then, as the orgasm starts to slide away into the background, the reality of what we’d just done hits me, like those sneaker waves that get you when you’re trying to get back on the beach.

Logan Shephard just fucked me on his rug. From behind. My head pressed—no,
held
—to the ground. He fucked me like I’d never been fucked before and I’m starting to think I need a new word to describe that because “fuck” just isn’t enough.

And you didn’t use a condom
, I remind myself. I’m lucky I’m on the pill, though I should be more careful next time.

Next time. What a crazy thought. Part of me can’t assume there will be a next time. The other part of me thinks that’s all there is. Next time. There has to be. Sex can’t be that good and only happen once. It’s an insult to the act of sex itself.

Meanwhile, as my brain starts to come to grips with everything, Logan is still breathing heavily and his hand slowly trails down my head, over my neck and down my spine.

“Veronica,” he whispers, grabbing my waist.

“Yeah,” I say.

He slowly pulls out, cum dripping onto my thighs, and exhales loudly. “God, you’re everything I dreamed you would be.”

I can’t help but smile. “So you’ve been dreaming about me?”

“Every day, Freckles. Every bloody day.” He sighs and runs his hand back up my spine. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.” He touches my hair gingerly. “I do love your hair.”

More smiling. I’m kind of glad he can’t see my face right now because I know I have the look of a teenager with the world’s biggest crush. Heart eyes have nothing on me.

“Nah,” I tell him. “Maybe a bit of rug burn, but it’s worth it.” I turn around to look at him, his eyes glazed and sated, cheeks flushed. I’ve never seen him like this before. He looks vulnerable. He’s beautiful.

We stare at each other for a few beats before I try to get to my knees and pull down my dress. He reaches out and stops me, his hand on my wrist.

“Take it off,” he says.

I blink at him, give him a crooked smile. “The dress?”

“Off.”

For some reason I expected this to be the part of the night where we put our clothes back on. I can see I’m wrong. I quickly oblige, lifting the dress over my head, glad I hadn’t worn a bra. If I had, there’s a chance it would be lying on the rug ripped in half like my underwear. And a good bra isn’t cheap.

Of course my mind is thinking about this because it’s having a hard time coming to terms, once again, that I slept with Logan. I know that all those worries, all that guilt I carry in my heart, is waiting to come loose.

Luckily, Logan himself is a brilliant distraction.

“Get on the couch,” he says, nodding toward the tan couch in the living room.

I’m not really sure what to expect but I get up and walk, very naked, very awkward, over to the couch. I mean, I’ve lost a bit of weight since coming here but I still have my cellulite (though a bit more disguised because of my tan), I still have my jiggly thighs and butt and padded hips, and I’m walking completely exposed. Which is something I have never done before, not even for Erik. I can feel Logan’s eyes on every inch of my body as I go and it takes a lot of willpower to not cover myself up and run for the hills.

“Get on the couch,” he says. “Spread your legs.”

I turn around and stare openly at him. “What?”

He gives me a predatory half-smile as he gets to his feet and walks over. My eyes are drawn to his dick, of course, and the holy specimen of man that it’s attached to. Good lord, this man need to have statues erected in his honor. And that’s not just a play on words.

I sit on the couch, totally out of my element. I don’t spread my legs. Everything is so new and shocking, this side of him, how fast this is all moving.

As if he can read my thoughts, he stops in front of me and says. “I don’t know how long I have before you hate me all over again.”

There’s a gravity to his voice that wasn’t there before. The lust is put on the back burner and in his eyes I see a man who’s prepared to get hurt over me. A man who thinks tonight might be all he has left to lose.

I shake my head. “Logan…” I lick my lips. “I’m not going to hate you over this. I’ve…well, like you’ve been driving at these last few weeks, I’ve wanted this just as much as you. It’s just that—”

“Don’t say her name,” he says quickly. “Please. Just for the rest of the night. Don’t say her name. She doesn’t…this is about you and me right now and that’s it. That’s all there is. You and me. And if it’s not forever, then just for tonight.”

I nod. “I know.”

“So,” he goes on. “Spread your legs. Or I’ll do it for you.”

I raise my brow. This could get interesting.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

And so here I am, lying fully naked on Logan’s couch and he’s dropping to his knees in front of me, like I had dropped to my knees earlier. I know he’s told me to spread my legs, but that’s just a little too far out of my comfort zone—I mean, I just walked across his damn living room naked and totally thought I was going to die of embarrassment—but I can tell the man is up for a challenge.

That’s a bit of an understatement, too. The man
wants
a challenge.

He comes to the edge of the couch and leans over, kissing me. After how thoroughly he just fucked me, I didn’t think I’d still have that raw need pulsing through my veins, the kind that made me throw nearly all inhibitions to the wind, but clearly I do and all I need for that extra push is to have his warm tongue in my mouth.

Fuck, he tastes amazing. Our kisses are nothing but supernatural, this easy rhythm that we both fall into, kisses that invade my bloodstream and make me burn for him. I could eat him, he’s that addicting.

“God, I want to fuck you with my mouth,” he whispers against my gaping lips. “Everywhere.”

Yes. Yes, please.

He brings his lips and tongue down the length of my body, caressing my collarbone, my breasts, sucking and biting at my nipples until I’m crazed, nearly mad with all the sensation. My fingers are desperate as they dig into the hard muscles of his back as he teasingly moves downward.

I shiver as his tongue skates over my stomach, my hips jerking as his beard brushes against my skin, contradicting the soft sweep of his lips. One of my hands makes a fist in his thick hair, the other grips the edge of the sofa. My body moves independent from me, a mind of its own. My hips rise again and again, desperately needing to feel his tongue between my legs.

Finally, his head settles between my thighs and I part them wider for him, thirsty with dire anticipation. He slowly parts me open with his hands, taking his time as he lets the rough pad of his fingertip brush over my sensitive, swollen flesh.