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He brushed his cheek against hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever make up for it, Iz.”
She turned so their mouths met. Soft and sweet, she made that little purr in her throat that had dogged his dreams before she pulled away. “I’m not going to keep score.” Her topaz eyes were smudged with the remnants of her makeup and the proof of just how little sleep they’d had.
They’d talked until the misty sun washed over the city. Little things dominated the conversation. Each of them trying to discuss anything but Aimee. Her work, his new album, Winchester Falls, and anything in between.
Afraid she was just a dream, he’d talked until he was hoarse. He wanted as much time as was possible with her. But eventually they’d both finally drifted off. Now, he needed her again.
He rolled her under him, disappearing beneath the covers to trail open-mouthed kisses along her thigh and her hip. He nosed the waffle-textured shirt up to find her silky belly and dipped his tongue into her belly button.
Restless fingers slid through his hair and down his neck then made a return trip with the lightest bite of nails. He groaned into the valley where hip met thigh and traced his tongue down the downy soft strip of hair to the little hood of skin that hid what he wanted.
She trembled as he made a lazy figure eight around her clit and flicked inside her warmth. He closed his mouth over her and listened for all her tells. Her sweet gasps as he found the rhythm she needed. The bite of nails at his shoulder told him he was close. He was relentless. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, not after he’d been starving for so fucking long.
He slid a finger, then two, inside of her. She was so damn tight. He curled deeper as her pussy swelled around his fingers. He flipped the covers back, needing to see her face. Splayed out and arching up, she dug her heel into the mattress and twisted. He flattened his hand over her belly and used his thumb to come at her from the top.
She soaked his hand and mouth and still he wanted more. He circled her clit with his thumb and dragged in a deep breath. “Izzy.” She shuddered and he had to focus on her and not his throbbing cock that wanted inside of her. “Fuck, yes.”
“God, Logan.” Her voice was barely more than breath.
“More.” He bit the inside of her thigh and she jumped. “Izzy, mine,” he said against her skin. Her head was thrown back, every muscle vibrated. He scrambled up to cover her, to take a ride into the middle of that storm.
He sunk into her slowly as he slid his arms under hers to cage her in. She surrounded him. Legs and arms locked around him as he pressed her into the mattress.
Gentle left the building with each rasping cry of his name. He drove into her, desperate to leash the madness that happened when she touched him, when she called out his name with such sweet torment. When her nails scored his back, he pushed harder, demanded more. He rolled his hips and choked out her name as he finally came.
Face buried in her neck, he tasted salt and let her jasmine scent drive him back from the edge. He slowed the force of his thrusts as his body tried to catch up with the force of his release.
With a shaking hand, he pushed her sweaty bangs out of her face. “Iz?”
“Call back later. Izzy’s died by orgasm.” She let out a shuddering groan. “What the hell kind of Wheaties have you been eating while I was gone?”
He laughed into her neck. Thank God. He’d lost it a bit at the end. Christ, she dragged him to the brink. “Should I say I’m sorry?”
“God, no. You just can’t do it that way every time or we’ll never leave the house.”
He propped himself up on his forearms. “Bad thing, how?”
She laughed, then groaned as he shifted between her legs. “Well if you gotta go, orgasm’s gotta be the best way, right?”
“Definitely.” He rolled off her and the blast of cool air made him hiss.
She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I’m ruined.”
“As you should be.” He sure as fuck was.
“What are my chances of getting a huge omelet with cheese and bacon?” She groaned and his beaten cock twitched anyway. “Yeah, bacon.”
“Relatively good.” If those were the noises he was going to get.
She turned her face toward him. “How good?”
“I think I actually have that in my kitchen.”
“If you loved me you’d make me one.” She blew a sweaty hank of hair out of her eyes.
“Is that right?”
“Yep.”
