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“You did not.”
He stalks closer, backing me up against the sink. “I absolutely did.” He runs his gaze over me from head to toe. “Why didn’t you ask earlier? I don’t want to mess up your makeup and stuff before you go on stage.”
“We were busy.” I shrug, feeling a little silly now. “I wasn’t serious. I don’t expect you to deliver orgasms on demand.”
He meets my eyes. “Oh, I plan to deliver.”
That damn confident, cocky statement makes my knees wobble. The dull ache between my thighs intensifies.
“Hmm.” He slides his hands over my shoulders and down my arms. “Slide your panties off,” he says in that low, hypnotizing voice that melts me like butter. My panties hit the ground faster than a shooting star across the sky.
“Nice,” he praises.
He runs his hand over his chin and strokes his beard as his gaze roams over my body. “How are we gonna make this work?” The question’s low and more like he’s asking himself the question.
“You look like you’re doing mental sex physics in your head or something,” I tease.
“I am.” He cups my hips and lifts me onto the sink, then kneels in front of me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, raking my nails through his hair.
“Well, I’m not here to paint your toes, chickadee.” He picks up one foot and kisses the top. “Put your legs over my shoulders.” His voice dips to a slow, seductive note.
Excitement thrums through my veins. While I had a stab of guilt about treating him as my own personal orgasm delivery service, his enthusiasm erases my doubt.
With the tight space and awkward angle, it takes some effort to do as he asks and there’s nothing graceful about the process. He pulls me to the edge of the sink and crams his head between my thighs.
“Oh!” My body jolts as his tongue sweeps over my flesh. None of the usual soft kisses and nibbles along my thighs tonight. Logan’s getting right down to business. I brace myself with one hand behind me and the other on his head, my fingers curling into his hair.
Even though he’s laser focused, he’s gentle as he sucks my clit into his mouth and strokes with the tip of his tongue.
“Holy moly. You are so fucking amazing at that.”
He answers with a dirty, rumbling laugh.
I’m throbbing with need. He strokes with the perfect cadence to set me off.
“Right there.” My fingers curl in his hair. “Oh!” I yelp as my body convulses with release. My thighs quiver as the sensation explodes through my body.
He kisses the inside of my thigh. “That was quick. You did need me.”
I realize how tight my fingers are curled in his hair and release him, stopping to touch myself.
He groans. “Fuck, that’s beautiful.”
“What?”
“Your fingers on your pussy.”
“Like this?” I tease, dragging one finger through my wetness.
“Shelby,” he groans, not taking his eyes off me.
“Fuck me, Logan,” I whisper.
He slips my legs off his shoulders and rises from the floor like a warrior about to conquer and claim his territory. I meet his eyes and shudder with excitement as he unbuckles his belt.
“Take your shirt off.”
With a playful slowness, he eases the shirt up over his head, leaning over to drape it over a hook on the wall. “Better?”
I run my hand over his stomach, over his rippling abs. Our eyes meet again. “I could do our laundry on your abs.”
He laughs, his muscles tightening and flexing. Continuing my exploration, I flatten my palm over his chest. He’s broad and thick with muscle. I trace my fingers over lines of ink. His eyelids lower like a content lion as I curl my hand around his neck and draw him closer.
He hurries to finish undoing his jeans, freeing himself. His hips jerk as I work my hand up and down his cock in a steady rhythm. He lets out a tortured groan.
“Come closer,” I whisper.
My invitation snaps him out of his trance. His hands are on my hips, pulling me to the edge of the sink, but it’s not quite the right height. He lifts me, shuffling to the side, bracing me between his hard chest and the wall. His cock presses against me and I wrap my legs around his hips. He drives in inch by inch, staring into my eyes the whole time, backing off if I flinch, waiting until I’m ready to accept all of him.
“How’s that?” he asks.
“Really good.” I brace my arms on his shoulders and roll my hips. He digs his fingers into my skin, holding me tight while matching my slow tempo. Another orgasm slowly builds. He drives into me harder. Faster. I’m climbing higher and higher but not quite there. What I need seems out of reach.
“Logan, I can’t,” I whisper breathlessly.
“Am I hurting you?” He loosens his grip on my hips.
