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Chapter 20
Simone
Was I really knocking on Logan’s front door? I’d questioned it when I put on my shoes, again when I started my car, and a third time when I parked out front and got out of the car. After hearing the echo of my hand against the hollow wood, I debated turning around. I didn’t turn fast enough, and the lock clicked behind me.
Logan stood in the cracked doorway, tracing his eyes over the tight jeans I’d chosen to wear—the ones with holes in the right places to encourage your imagination to run wild. His throat bobbed when he swallowed, and a satisfied rush warmed my cheeks.
“I, uh, like your sweater,” he said, pointing to the old, slightly worn Michigan State sweatshirt I wore.
I didn’t go to Michigan State, and I had no ties to the school, but I had found it at a thrift store for two dollars one winter and decided it was worth the pocket change. It became my favorite sweatshirt, even though it wasn’t flattering.
I giggled. “Thanks.” Feeling bold, I took a step towards him. “Do you really like my sweatshirt?”
Logan nodded. “Yeah.”
“Here,” I said, grabbing the hem and pulling it over my head.
I stepped over the threshold of the apartment, dropping my sweatshirt in a heap on the vinyl wood flooring. Logan stepped forward, cupping the back of my neck and pulling my face towards his.
Our lips crashed together, and we fell back, catching ourselves against the open door. It flew open behind him and crashed into the wall, likely leaving a dent the shape of the doorknob in the drywall. “Shit,” he murmured, gritting his teeth for a second before he shrugged. “Shh.”
I looked around the apartment, noting the TV on mute with what looked like a bunch of dirty people eating something out of coconut shells. The rest of the apartment was empty, and I smirked.
When I turned back to Logan, his stare was hungry and his chest heaved. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but he closed it again. With a quiet growl, he stepped forward, grabbing the back of my thighs and lifting me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he took off down the short hall to his bedroom.
The picture frame holding a signed concert poster for a band I’d never heard of shook against the wall when Logan kicked the door shut behind us. He took a couple of steps, dropping me onto the top of his dresser. The dresser was short and wide, and it was made of sturdy wood that didn’t shake when Logan lined his hips up with mine.
He rocked his hips forward, grinding against me, and my tight jeans pushed against the lacy panties I wore, causing a light friction on my clit. I rolled my body to meet his movements, grabbing the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head.
His chest was defined and covered with a mix of tattoos I wanted to trace with my tongue. The skin over his pecs was soft, but the muscles were firm, and I dragged my hands down his body to the waistband of his jeans.
I fumbled with the button, but when I didn’t struggle with the zipper, a smile tugged at my cheeks. I pushed Logan’s jeans past his hips, and his erection bounced free. I held my breath, not realizing I was staring.
“See something you like?” he asked with a smirk, knowing already that I did.
Nodding, I gnawed at the inside of my lip. “Something like that.” He rolled his eyes, and I snickered.
Logan roughly grabbed at my jeans, closing his hands around the band of them and my underwear. He tugged, roughly pulling both from beneath me. The wood dresser was cold on my bare ass, and I whined.
My whines turned to eager whimpers when he stepped back in front of me, running the head of his cock along my slit and spreading my arousal. I pushed my hips forward, quietly pleading for more. “Logan, please,” I begged.
He grinned, lining his cock up with my entrance and thrusting into me with a swift movement. I threw my head back and cried out, satisfied with feeling like I was full. My pussy clenched, gripping onto him.
His grip on my thighs was rough, and he tugged me towards him. My ass slid against the dresser easily until it was barely on the surface, my pussy dangling over the side. Logan held my legs, and I tightened my hold around his waist.
When he continued his rhythm, thrusting into me with deep, hard strokes, I cried out. He didn’t shush me, no longer worried about his empty apartment, but he closed his eyes. They were clenched shut when he dropped his head back and opened his mouth.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” His voice was laced with pleasure and lacking the sarcasm that normally accompanied the pet name, and a horde of butterflies erupted in my stomach.
Intense pleasure built in my core, like a coil tightening each time Logan thrust upward and his cock brushed along my G-spot. My vision blurred along with my judgment the closer I got to the edge. Suddenly the man inside me wasn’t the infuriating assistant manager with a decent dick—he had become a friend. One I fucked.
No strings attached.
“Logan!” I squealed, my arms finding their way to his shoulders. I dug my nails into the skin, satisfied when he hissed.
He reached his hand between us, using his thumb to strum across my clit as he fucked me. My toes curled, and the muscles in my thighs tightened. When my legs shook, a half-grin made Logan’s eyes light up. He was close too.
