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“Jesus, you're soaked,” he rasps, eyes so dark that they’re nearly black. Lunging forward, he drops me onto my back and kneels between my open thighs. His hungry gaze rakes over my naked body before zeroing in on my pussy, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “I need to taste you.”

As soon as he moves toward me, I plant my foot on his chest to stop him. “Do you think you’ve earned it?”

With a frustrated whine, Logan grabs my ankle and kisses the side of it. “Please, Salem, I’m starving. Let me have you, just this once. I'll make it so good.”

“Hmm.” I slip my hand between my legs. “Maybe I’ll just get myself off instead.”

His chest heaves as he watches me play, squeezing his cock over his pants. I dip two fingers into my wet heat and bring them to my mouth to taste myself because I know it'll drive him wild.

His nostrils flare. “I… fuck.” He whips off his shirt and drops to his knees on the floor. “Is this what you want?”

Propping myself on my elbows, I smile down at him and reward his behavior by spreading myself wider. “Well, that's certainly a start.”

This has always been my favorite part of our dynamic: forcing this shy church boy to talk dirty for me. Something about the way he gets so flustered turns me on.

Swallowing hard, Logan reaches out to caress my lower stomach. “I want… No, I need to taste you. Please. I need to lick your gorgeous pussy until you're screaming my name, coming all over my tongue. Can I, baby? Please, Salem, let me make you come.”

I shudder and lay back on the bed, pinching one of my nipples hard.

His lips find my inner thigh, kissing and licking along the sensitive skin. “It's been so long. I can't wait anymore. I dream about this, about the way you feel, the way you sound. How soft and delicious you are.” Warm breath brushes over my swollen clit, drawing a whimper from me. “You look so damn pretty right now, all pink and wet. Just one lick, that's all I need. Please, baby, just one? To hold me over?”

“Only one.” My whisper trails into a moan as Logan’s hot tongue trails a path from my entrance to my clit. “Oh, fuck.”

“God,” he whines, grinding into his palm as he rests against my knee. “So fucking perfect. I can have one more, right? For being so good? Please let me have one more, I'm dying.”

“Touch me,” I grit out, satisfied at his begging but sick of waiting. “Jesus, Logan, make me come.”

Permission granted, Logan dives between my thighs. I keen and thread my fingers through his hair, writhing against his tongue. His groan vibrates my clit, and when he pushes two fingers inside of me, curling them upwards, I don’t stand a chance.

Weeks of being turned on combined with his interruption in the shower slam into me all at once. I cry out as the orgasm rocks through me. “Fuck, fuck, Logan, I'm coming. Oh god, don't stop!”

He licks me through my release until I'm an overstimulated, squirming mess. When the waves of pleasure finally subside, I tug him up for a searing kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. He rolls his hips, grinding his cock against me, and words tumble out of my mouth that should probably have stayed inside my head.

But I say them anyway. “Fuck me. Please.”

Logan freezes, briefly breaking through the haze of lust to bury his face in my neck. “We shouldn't.”

I should have known it was coming, but I still feel deflated at the rejection. He always says no. The entire two years together were like this. His virtue was always at the forefront of our relationship, his religious 'values.' I used to hate it, but we made it work for us. Who doesn't love getting eaten out on the regular? Still…

It's on the tip of my tongue to remind him that we’re married, but I don't. That would mean acknowledging this farce of a marriage, and I refuse to do that.

Just as I drop my arms, intent on wriggling out from beneath him, Logan raises his head and pins me with a look that has my heart skipping a beat. His eyes are nearly black, hair disheveled, lines etched around his mouth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He’s fucking wrecked. Agonized. Hungry.

“We shouldn’t,” he repeats, trailing his trembling fingers over my skin. “But I need you like I need air, Salem, and I'm tired of struggling to breathe. So tell me what to do.”

Chapter

Twenty

Logan

My hands are shaking so violently that I can hardly focus.

I'm afraid if I blink wrong, I'll ruin everything.

Salem's bright, grey eyes sparkle, her pretty, swollen lips parting on a moan as I increase the pressure on her clit. My gaze runs over her body, so beautiful against the low glow of the lamp. I know every freckle on her chest, but I count them anyway, lowering my head to take one of her perfect pink nipples into my mouth.

I've always loved her tits—small, cute and just the right size to fit in my palms. I'd be lying if I didn't often wonder what they'd look swollen with milk, how gorgeous she'd be pregnant. Even though I know it'll never happen.