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“I’m not…this isn’t…we shouldn’t.” The tone of his words doesn’t match what he actually says.
“No, I think we should, and do you know why?”
Logan’s eyes are dilated as he stands board-straight in front of me. “Why?”
I exhale and lift my chin. “I have a problem, Logan. A big one, and you said you’d always be there to help me if I needed it.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I did say that. What’s your problem?”
Deciding not to beat around the bush, I tell him my truth. “I need orgasms. Lots and lots of orgasms. The ones I’m giving myself aren’t helping. I need…you.”
His groan sounds pained as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Hallie,” he mumbles, as if not wanting to hear it.
“I’m serious. I need sex, Logan. Desperately. I’m so keyed up, I might actually explode,” I insist.
He chuckles and meets my gaze once more. I also notice he moves his right hand and places it at my lower back, holding me against him. His cock is hard, rigid, and ready, and I pray that’s a sign of what’s to come.
Or who’s to come…
“I’m not sure that’s a can of worms we should open, Hal.” There’s regret in his words, and it makes my heart beat a lot faster.
“It would be, like, you performing a service. A very vital, important one.” I hope I don’t sound too desperate, even though I am. “A dick service, if you will.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I thought those services were illegal in Wisconsin.”
I shrug my shoulders and place my hands on his chest. “It’s only illegal if money is exchanged. I don’t plan to pay you.”
“I don’t get paid?” He feigns shock.
Leaning forward, I whisper, “You get to come, Logan. A lot.” And because I’m leaning against his body, I feel his cock twitch against my stomach.
If there was any fight left in him, it evaporates in this moment. He reaches for my hand and practically drags me to the master bedroom. The moment we cross the threshold, he’s spinning me around and pinning me to the wall. His mouth descends in a bruising kiss, one that speaks of good things to come. His fingers thread into my hair as mine reach for the button on his jeans. Reaching into his pants, I cup his erection and give it a gentle squeeze.
“Fuck,” he mutters, ripping his mouth from mine and gasping for air.
“Yes, exactly.”
He chuckles, taking a step back. “Let me get a look at you.”
I whine. Yes, whine. “Looking? I like your first suggestion better.”
Smiling widely, he insists, “We’ll get to that very quickly, Cupcake. First, I want to do something I’ve been dying to do since your birthday.”
Logan drops to his knees in front of me, reaches up, and grabs the waist of my panties. With little finesse, he pulls them down and helps me step out of them. “My God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he says, reaching around and grabbing my ass in his hands. “Your ass is a fucking work of art.”
A small bubble of laughter slides from my throat. “Sure, now you like it.”
He pauses and glances up, confusion written all over his face. “When have I not liked it?”
“Never mind,” I reply, hoping to get right back to business.
“No, tell me. What’s wrong?”
I huff out a deep breath, hating I even responded the way I did. “It’s nothing. Just something you said back in high school.”
Now he’s super confused. “What’d I say?”
I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to kill the mood, and not just because I’m horny as hell. “It doesn’t matter,” I whisper, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
