Anticipation that borders on dread lodges in my chest. It’s probably the worst possible comparison to draw right now, but this reminds me of the first time my mom took me to the salon to get my legs waxed. Lying there while the hot wax was applied to my skin, watching the esthetician grip the corner of the warm strip, anticipating the pain as I waited for her to rip it off.
“I think we need to Band-Aid this,” I blurt out. “Forget slow. Just do it fast.”
He chokes out a laugh. “I don’t want to hurt you.” In fact, he’s stopped moving altogether, his erection neither plunging nor retreating. Just…there.
“What’s the matter, Johnny? Scared?”
Defiance flares in his eyes. “Mocking a guy isn’t gonna get you laid, baby.”
“Stalling isn’t going to, either.” I grin up at him. “Come on, baby. Deflower me.”
Logan keeps one hand on my hip, but lifts the other to my mouth, giving my lower lip a chastising pinch. “Don’t rush me, woman.” His gaze softens as he sweeps it over my face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes—”
That one measly syllable barely leaves my mouth before he plunges deep. I gasp, the jolt of pain taking me by surprise.
He’s all the way inside, and from the tight stretch of his features, I know he’s forcing himself to remain still.
“You with me?” he murmurs.
I nod. The pain is already abating. I tentatively move my hips, and his eyes roll to the top of his head. “Jesus Christ,” he croaks.
God, why isn’t he moving? I feel so completely full, yet oddly empty.
He once again checks in on my mental, emotional and physical state. “How’re you doing?”
I roll my eyes. “Great. How about you?”
“I’m dying here.” Finally, finally, he does something other than lie motionless on top of me. His erection inches out, just slightly, then glides back in.
Pleasure shoots through me. “Oh, do that again.”
“You sure? I’m trying to give you time to adjust.”
“I’m good. I swear.”
His mouth finds mine in a sweet, tender kiss, and then his hips begin to move. Thrusting and retreating in a lazy rhythm that draws a shaky noise from my throat. I hold on tight, digging my fingers into his strong back.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he rasps.
I do, and the angle changes immediately, deeper contact, locking our bodies tighter than before. He fills me, over and over again, each long stroke intensifying the ache inside me, until every square inch of skin is hot and tight and screaming for relief. I need more. My clit is swollen, throbbing. I reach between us and rub it, and the extra stimulation is glorious.
Logan’s elbows rest on either side of my head as he increases the pace, his hips snapping forward, his lips latched on mine as if he can’t bear not kissing me. When he hits a spot deep inside, the tension explodes in an orgasm so intense I don’t even make a sound. I arch my spine and slam my eyes shut, my breath stuck in my throat, my lips glued to his.
“Oh fuck.” He slams in one last time. His back, damp with sweat, trembles beneath my palms as he grunts in release.
His heart hammers against my breasts, and I feel almost smug, because I did this to him. I made him curse and groan and wobble as if the world beneath his feet had vanished. I made him come apart.
And he did the same damn thing to me.
Afterward, we lie on our sides, facing each other. I’m limp and sated, too lazy to move. But not too lazy to admire the beautiful male body stretched out next to me. He’s long and powerful, not a shred of fat on him, just thick muscle stretched tight against bone. His arms are deliciously ripped, his thighs massive.
“You’re huge,” I remark.
“You calling me pudgy?” he demands, but he’s smiling as he says it.
“Don’t worry, I like being in bed with a big, manly hockey player.” I lazily stroke his biceps. “But seriously, you’re huge. Big chest, big legs, big hands—”
“Big dick,” he supplies. “Don’t forget about the big dick.”
“You mean this teeny thing?” My fingers travel to his groin, running over his satin-smooth hardness. I have no idea how he’s still hard after what we just did. “Hold on,” I tell him. “Let me find a magnifying glass so I can get a better look.”
“Shut your mouth, woman.” Laughing, he flips me over so I’m pinned under the muscular body I was just admiring. He leans in to kiss my neck—nope, the jerk doesn’t kiss it. He blows a loud raspberry that makes me shriek in delight. “What were you saying about my dick?”