Page 33 of Living at 40

“No time to sleep. We have plans.”

“Sounds like you already enjoyed the day,” I mock.

“I’d enjoy it more if you gave me a blow job.”

Instantly, I roll on the bed, falling to my back and peering up at him beside me. “You get drunk, pass out, wake me up, and now you want a blow job.”

“Sure. It will restore me to rights, and we can get back to business.”

“Are you serious?” It’s one of those moments when he could be joking, but I can’t see his face well enough in the dim light of the room. My blinds are open, and the moon is out in the sky somewhere, illuminating the bedroom in a dusky dark blue.

“Well, you are just using me for my sperm.” His hand slides down my arm and curls around my wrist. Lifting my arm for his mouth, he sucks at the pulse point of my wrist before scraping his teeth over it.

“Is that what you feel like? I’m using you.” I shift my head on the pillow, trying to get a better look at him.

“I feel like I need your mouth around my dick to get me pumped up, and then I need to bury myself inside you.”

I gasp, but his lips cover mine, swallowing the air I expel. He steals my breath as he shifts his body over mine, straddling me before releasing my lips and shoving down a pair of athletic shorts. He’s not wearing anything underneath the thin material, and despite the dark, a perfect outline of his dick forms. He squeezes himself, and I see he’s already hard. He doesn’t need me to pump him up, but perhaps his ego needs a stroke. I don’t want him to think I’m just using him for what his body can give me. That is part of what we’re doing, but I also haven’t felt as alive as I felt with him last night. He’s stroking my ego more than he knows.

Giving in to his request, I tip up my head as he walks on his knees over my body. Falling to one hand to balance himself over my head, he holds himself just above my lips.

“Suck me.” I shouldn’t be so turned on by his command. Deep down, I know if I told him no, he’d move off me, but somehow, I like how demanding he is, and last night I promised him anything he said, anything he wanted to do to me, I’d take it.

Opening my mouth, he traces over my lips with his tip, and my tongue comes forward, giving the slit a lick.

Logan hisses. “That mouth.” He groans, and I lift again, encouraging him to enter my mouth. He holds himself at the base for a moment before I brush his hand away and take over, pulling him to the back of my throat before hollowing my cheeks and sucking him hard.

“Shit,” he mutters, combing his fingers through my hair, petting me almost as I slide up and down his thick length, drawing him deep before slipping to the crown. My tongue swirls around the ridge before I swipe over the head once more. Opening wide, I take him deep again.

“Okay. Enough.” He pulls out of my mouth and moves down my body, kissing my neck before lowering to my chest. He tugs the straps of my cami to the sides, locking my arms while exposing my breasts. Eagerly, he sucks at each one before leaving me in this position and moving to my briefs. Drawing them dramatically down my thighs, he pulls them from my ankles and tosses them over his shoulder. I don’t have a second to comment before he flips me to my belly.

“Okay with this?” he asks, testing me. A warm hand rubs up my spine before he grips each of my hips and props me up on my knees. I’m a rag doll of submission and a raging bundle of hormones. He accused me of using him, but he’s proving he’s using me just as much, and as wrong as it sounds, I’m okay with this. On my knees, elbows pressed to the mattress, he swipes the thick head of his dick along the seam of my backside. His thumb follows, teasing me, and I clench.

“I’d never force you into anything you were uncertain of.” The serious tenor of his voice gives me pause, and I try to glance over my shoulder.

“I know,” I croak, not in a position for a chat.

His slick head moves lower, and he hisses again. “You’re so wet. It’s like you were waiting for me.”

I was waiting for him, ready for him, hours ago, but it’s even more than that, and I can’t divulge the emotions I shouldn’t have behind what we are doing. I don’t want to begrudge him his time with his friends. He isn’t here for me. He’s here for Ben, but I selfishly want a slice of that time because I’ve never experienced what I’m experiencing with Logan.

Suddenly, he rams into me, jolting me forward, and I gulp, swallowing all thoughts of anything other than our position at this moment.

“Autumn.” He exhales on my name. “Crisp air. Colorful leaves. Cooling temperatures.” He’s a poet? For a second, I’m wondering if he’s still drunk, but his steady rhythm keeps pace with my heartbeat, and we fall into a dance of him sliding into me, drawing to my entrance and surging forward into my depths. It’s not a position I’ve regularly been in, but I’m not complaining. It’s different but fulfilling in another means.

“I’m so deep like this,” he explains. “The angle. I feel like I touch every part of you. And fuck.” He’s all over the place with his thoughts. With his breathing ragged, the sound of us coming together fills the room.

“Do you have any idea how happy I am to finish inside you?” At first, I don’t know what he means, but as his hand strokes over the lower portion of my back, I realize under different circumstances, he’d need to pull out. He’d cover my skin and leave his mark in another manner, but for what I want, he needs to remain inside me.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he demands, but in our rush to please him, I’m faltering. I’m not as close as I need to be. Surprising me, he leans forward and slides his hand over my belly, pausing there a moment. “I’m going to give you everything you want.”

Christ, his words. I rock back, forcing him deeper. His fingers stretch forward, plucking at my clit, eagerly strumming me in hopes I’ll reach the end goal. With thighs shaking and hips moving, I suddenly feel as if I’ve lost control of myself. I’m working over him without thought, striving forward on pure pleasure.

“That’s it, honey.” The tone of his voice and the sound of friction between us, plus the wetness coating my thighs, sets me off in a way fireworks dance before me. I scream into the pillow, curling back like a stretching cat, and Logan follows by thrusting forward once more before stilling inside me. My channel clenches as he pulses, and I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced a simultaneous orgasm before. If I have, it’s never been like this. I’m floating and dripping and weightless and wet. I’m a mess, and it’s more than my body as I fight tears once again. Last night, I was so emotional after three orgasms, and I promised I wouldn’t be so reckless again. But something about the connection with Logan pushes me to the very edge of my being as if I haven’t been living before him.

I collapse to the mattress, and Logan follows, smothering me for a moment before perching up on an elbow to take off some of his weight. He isn’t heavy, but more like a comforting blanket, and I want him back over my body. Instead, he remains attached to me.

“We don’t want to miss a drop.” His voice dips into the teasing tone he has, and I almost let loose the welling tears. I don’t want him to feel like there’s only one mission, although that’s what I told him I wanted. I don’t want him to think I’m using him when, deep down, I know I am. And I definitely don’t want him to know how much I’d like more from him than what we are doing.