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I can barely speak, the need to feel him inside me overriding any coherent thought.
"Logan, I need..." I manage to choke out, my voice trailing off. His eyes darken further, his grip on my thighs tightening. I swallow hard.
"Logan... I need your cock inside of me. Now."
He stands up, his hands moving to the buckle of his pants. With one swift, confident motion, he strips off his pants, revealing the impressive length of his hardened cock. The sight of him - hard, ready, and sculpted - is enough to ignite a wild, insatiable desire within me.
Raw, vulnerable, intense. I confirm my desire. "Logan... put it inside of me."
He moves between my legs, positioning himself at my entrance.
He groans as he slides inside me, filling me, stretching me. The sensation is unbearable, a blend of pleasure and pain. We both let out a deep, throaty moan.
"You're... You're so big."
"You like that, Bailey?" His grip tightens on my thighs. "Tell me again."
"You're so big, Logan," I moan, meeting his eyes. The pleasure is overwhelming, but the power I hold over him in this moment is intoxicating. I know I've stoked the fire within him, and the thought makes me feel sexy and desired.
His hands roam my body in a slow exploration. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as I arch into him.
He begins to move within me with a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust taking me higher and higher. His hands are everywhere, touching, teasing, making me beg for more. The rhythm increases, his thrusts become more powerful, and I can feel the pressure mounting.
My nails scratch down his back, marking him as mine. The pace quickens, his thrusts become erratic, and we are both spiraling out of control.
I feel my body tensing, my nails digging into his back as I scream out his name, "Logan!"
My climax hits me with a force that leaves me breathless. His name echoes around us as he too reaches his peak, his body stiffening before he collapses on top of me.
We stay there for a moment; the only sound is our breath filling the room. I can feel the thump of his heartbeat against mine. He slowly moves off me, his hand sliding down my body in a gentle caress.
I can't help but watch him as he gets up and walks across the room, his body moving with a cat-like grace that is entirely too sexy.
He stops at a small fridge in the corner, pulling out a bottle of water. He pours two glasses, offering me one.
"Here, you must be thirsty."
I take the offered glass, our fingers brushing, a tingle darting up my arm. I take a sip, the cool water soothing my dry throat, and I can't help but keep my eyes on him. Logan, the bad boy who is turning out to be not so bad after all.
We make our way to his bedroom and he rummages through a drawer, grabbing a worn T-shirt that smells like him: smoky and spicy with a hint of his cologne.
"Here, wear this."
I slip into it, the soft fabric caressing my skin. It’s too big on me, but it’s so goddamn comfortable.
"You look cute in that."
"Thanks." I do a playful twirl around before landing on his bed. He lays down next to me, our bodies touching. Between us, the sheets are cool. Our breathing synchronizes as we both stare at the ceiling, basking in a silence that feels oddly comfortable.
As I lay in the silence, next to Logan, a flurry of thoughts swirl in my mind. I surprise myself when I realize that this – being here, with him – feels like home.
It's not the extravagant, polished mansion he lives in, but the warmth I feel with him, the way his body molds around mine like a missing puzzle piece.
Do I dare admit, even to myself, that I might be falling for the bad boy that I once couldn't stand?
Yes, I do.
And for now, I allow myself to bask in this feeling of home.
