“Let’s take a break. There’s only a few more I want to show you.”
“Thank God. I’m dying of thirst.” I get two glasses and pour cold water in each, handing one to Logan. His throat bobs from each swallow which makes me feel like salivating.
He catches me watching and I quickly dart my eyes away, spinning to set my glass down in the sink. When I spin back. He’s right there.
Jesus.
“You’ve done good. You should be proud.” His arm goes around my back, avoiding touch as he sets his empty glass in the sink.
“Thanks,” I painfully whisper while being a lustful mess. “So. What’s left?”
“Turn around.” Logan motions with his finger.
My face contorts in confusion before I obey. I feel his body coming closer and when he throws his arms around me from behind, I go stiff. Logan’s chest is pressing against my back, and my ovaries are pulsating. My breathing turns shallow, as his lips feather over my ear.
Did we have a safe word for this? We don’t, but we most definitely should have a safe word.
“What do you do, Sora?” His voice sternly vibrates against me and for the life of me, I can’t seem to recall anything. The heat of his breath, and the closeness being all too much.
“I… I don’t know,” I lustfully say, turning my head slightly to the side.
It’s possible I heard the faintest growl coming from him, but I can’t be sure.
“Think, dove.” His lips trace my skin until his mouth connects with my neck, causing me to lose all body function.
My head lolls back to rest on Logan’s shoulder while he takes the material of my dress, fisting it tightly.
“Fuck,” he curses as he lays a gentle but seductive kiss on that same part of my neck. The hem of my dress bunches in his hand before he ever so slightly moves the material up… and up.
He stops. “What do you do if a man touches you like this, Sora?”
I don’t know!
I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
I’m not capable of figuring out such a question right now.
Logan has his hands on me.
His mouth on me.
How can I possibly form a sentence?
My head still rests on his strong shoulder as I stare up at the ceiling, trying not to lose myfuckingmind. Then his large, callous hand dips under the bunched hem of my dress and his fingers gently graze my inner thigh.
I moan.Moan.And I’m afraid I can’t recover from this. Self-defense is going to have to wait, because all I can think about is how Logan’s hands feel on me. Everywhere.
“Logan,” I breathlessly cry out his name.
“What aboutmetouching you, Sora? Will you let me?” His hand, the one around my stomach moves up, resting just beneath my breasts, which are loosely confined by a tiny bow string pulling the material closed.
Yes!
“Yes,” I answer with such agony, I might scream from the torture. I need this man more than I’ve needed anything before in my life.
“Thank fuck.” He spins me around, then crashes his lips to mine and I swear it’s the best satisfaction I’ve ever felt. Like the final piece to an extremely difficult puzzle.
