His Big Package (Mistletoe Montana, 4)

by Jenika Snow

  And then he blinked as if pulled back into the present. He shut the door, and then we were making our way up the walkway and closer to the front door. I was very aware of the heavy weight of Logan’s huge hand placed on my lower back. I felt like that small touch was burning a hole right through my clothes.

  When we reached the door, I turned and looked up at him, not sure why, knowing I wasn't going to say anything. I couldn’t have found my voice in that moment anyway. But Logan was already watching me, and I felt this strange sensation that he couldn’t help himself, that he was pulled to me with so much power he was helpless to stop it.

  Or maybe I was projecting my own needs.

  We didn’t move, and I sure as hell didn’t even know if I was breathing as we continued to stare at each other. Despite the wind and chill that surrounded us, the snow heavy and thick, I felt so very warm next to him. His body blocked out a good portion of the porch light, casting shadows and shards of light behind him. He was this human wall, so big and unmovable.

  The wine I consumed had done a good job of making me feel loose and relaxed, but it also made my arousal even stronger.

  Logan took a step closer, and I licked my lips, his body crowding me in the best of ways. I froze as he reached out and pushed a lock of hair off my shoulder. I shivered, which had nothing to do with the wind-chill and everything to do with that small touch.

  I needed to kiss him.

  I want him to so badly I can practically taste his lips on mine already.

  Kiss me. Take me. Claim me, because I only want you.

  The groan that tore from him was loud, echoing all around us so strongly I felt my eyes widen.

  “You can’t say things like that and expect me to control myself,” he ground out.

  My heart raced when I realized I said those words out loud, those inner, personal feelings that I would have never dared utter to him for fear of the unknown. But fuck the unknown. Fate had those words being pushed past my lips, hanging between us, jumpstarting this.

  And then he had his body pressed to mine, one of his hands cupping the back of my head, my chest flush with his, and the very prominent erection digging into my belly. I gasped just as he slammed his mouth down on mine. As if my body had a mind of its own, I rose on my toes, placed my hands on his chest, and kissed him back as hard as he was kissing me. Dirty thoughts blasted into my head, which shocked me, given the fact that I was inexperienced in everything sexual. But I wanted his lips all over me, wanted his tongue licking every square inch of my body. I wanted to feel and see how hard he was—how hard I made him—and I wanted that without any clothes obstructing my view.

  He tightened his arms around my body as if he couldn’t get me close enough. And that was fine by me. I wanted to climb him like I was a damn spider monkey and he was the tallest tree.

  And before I knew what was going on, my back was pressed to the side of the house, the cold hardness of the wood and stone coiled with the heat and passion from his mouth on mine had me gasping against his mouth for more.

  Logan groaned, this rough, almost primal sound leaving him that had my pussy becoming so wet I clenched my thighs together to try to control the feeling of my pulse beating in my clit.

  “Open for me,” he demanded, and I parted my lips more, feeling him slide his tongue into my mouth, stroking the wet, warm recesses. But on instinct, I also spread my legs wider, allowed him to move in even closer, that thick cock between his thighs so big and hard as he rolled his hips and ground it against me.

  I felt so unlike myself, going after what I wanted, taking action, and although it was strange and slightly terrifying, I embraced it, because it felt… right.

  Being with Logan felt like what I was supposed to do, and I felt that connection and relation the moment I saw him. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, showing him exactly where I wanted this to go, because why not? There was no point trying to act like the blushing virgin—even though I was one. I didn’t know shit about sex, not firsthand at least, but even so, I felt this natural instinct take over me, leading the way.

  I didn't know how long we kissed, with his much bigger body pressing mine against the house, his hands never straying from my waist, but all too soon, he stepped back. I touched my lips, the tingling and warmth that covered them reaching the very recesses of my cells and traveling right down to my core, tightening the muscles in my sex, making me even wetter.

  “Logan,” I whispered. How the hell did he stop the kiss? How did he have the strength to pull back? I felt like I was drowning in my desire for him. Although I felt how hard he’d been for me, maybe he didn’t really want this, not deep down. By all accounts, an erection didn’t make a man really want you. And wasn't that thought like frigid water on my overheated body?

  “Don’t you want me?” I don’t know why I asked that, and as soon as the words spilled from my lips, I felt my cheeks heat as embarrassment filled me. I really didn’t want to know the answer to the question I just asked.

  The purr that left him sounded so inhuman, but he didn’t give me a chance to react, because a second later, he was pressed right back against me, chest-to-chest.

  He rolled his hips again, grinding that third leg against my soft belly. My head fell back against the house on its own as a moan left my parted lips.

  “What do you feel?” he asked in a gravelly voice, his eyes hooded as he continued to roll his hips back and forth. Back and forth. “Tell me,” he demanded with a thick and heated voice.

  “Like you’re so hard it hurts,” I gasped out. God. He felt huge down there.

  “It sure as fuck does,” he all but snarled, his eyes dipping to take in my lips for a second before he looked back in my eyes. “Does that feel like I don’t want you?” He thrust against me again and again, mimicking the act I wanted him to do between my thighs.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just closed my mouth and breathed in and out as the pleasure of feeling him dry-hump me against the house washed through me.

  “Try to tell me this doesn’t feel like I want you, Blythe.” He continued to smooth that digit along my face, over my lip, down to my pulse, which beat erratically.

  I opened my mouth and inhaled sharply, so very aware of every sensation moving through me. “It feels like…”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a devilishly sexy smirk. “Go on, baby. Tell me.”

  “It feels like you want me,” I whispered, more arousal laced in the words.

  He growled low, and it was a sound that was so feral, so delicious, it had me thinking of throwing caution to the wind and telling him all the things I fantasized about that featured Logan as the main attraction.

  “That’s exactly right, Blythe. That’s exactly fucking right.” He took a step closer, and I nearly closed my eyes and groaned at the feel of his body heat seeping into me.

  Here I go. I’m gonna do it. Fuck the consequences or how crazy this all is.

  “Then maybe we should take this inside. Maybe then I can properly show you exactly what I want to do with you.” His chest rose and fell harshly, and the look of pure arousal on his face was nearly tangible. “Or maybe I should take you inside and just hold you, kiss you, work you over without going all the way?”

  I was shaking my head before he even stopped. “I want you. I need you.”

  His eyes closed for a second as if my very words turned him on. When he opened them again, I saw his pupils were dilated, his arousal an actual living thing moving between us. “You sure you know what you’re asking, Blythe?”

  I licked my lips. I sure as hell do. Instead of saying that, I nodded slowly, and whispered, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  7

  Blythe

  I didn’t even know how we found ourselves inside his house… in his room. One minute, I was pressed against the side of his house, and the next, he was all but hauling me into his bedroom.

  I couldn't breathe, couldn’t think straight as we stood at this plateau and stared at each other, bot
h of us breathing so hard it was like we ran a marathon.

  And in this moment, as we were both still fully dressed, as he stared at me, Logan seemed so… animalistic. And in the blink of an eye, he was right before me, seeming to move faster than my eyes could track.

  I craned my head back, a gasp leaving me. Only a heartbeat passed before he leaned in close, so close I felt his warm breath move across my lips. I tried to force myself not to shiver. I failed.

  He was silent for a moment but then leaned back, allowing me to suck in a lungful of air.

  “I’m having one hell of a time not tearing your clothes off like a fucking animal, Blythe.”

  God, the desire and the promise laced in those words were my undoing. “Clothes are overrated.”

  I was starving… for Logan.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” Although it sounded like it was a question, Logan didn’t phrase it as one. He didn’t elaborate. I knew what he meant. And I agree with everything in me.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I feel it.” I want more of it.

  He let out a low growl, and I sucked in another breath, the sound coming from him, the way his big body swayed as if my words, as if my very voice, had caused it to do that. And all of that set me on fire.

  He leaned in close again. “Good,” he said, and I swore it sounded more like a purr coming from a feral fucking mountain lion. “Because I felt it the moment I first saw you, and it’s only grown since.”

  There was this little voice—this really damn annoying voice deep inside—that asked what in the hell I was doing. I knew what I was going to do, how this night was going to progress, and I didn't give one shit to that little voice that said maybe I should take my time where Logan was concerned.

  Nope. Negative. No. Nada.

  I was going to let this man take my virginity and fuck me every—any—way he saw fit.

  And all I could do was stare into his green eyes and hope he saw my desire to get the party started. Because actually telling him to fuck me just wasn’t coming out of my mouth.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked in that deep voice that sounded so very raw, so very male. “Am I what you want?”

  Surely, he could see the answer to that just by looking at me. Or maybe he wanted the words spilling forth, an actual promise that I consented to anything he wanted to do to me. At that thought, I closed my eyes, and I was the one who actually swayed.

  When I opened them again, I was done with overthinking this shit. I was done thinking at all, to be honest. I licked my lips and nodded, because frankly I didn’t think I could have formed a coherent word in that moment. My nipples were hard, pressing against my shirt. They ached, the mounds feeling heavy. I was wet—soaked, in fact. My panties were drenched, rubbing against the most intimate part of my body.

  But he needed to know the truth, and then he could make the decision on what he wanted to do, how he wanted to proceed. I wouldn’t keep my inexperience from him. “I’ve never done this,” I blurted out.

  His eyes lowered to my mouth, then dropped to my heaving chest, then back up to my eyes.

  “I don’t do this kind of thing either,” he said low, truthfully. “I’ve never in my life brought a woman to my home.”

  I felt like he wanted to say more, but he tightened his jaw and took another step toward me.

  I shook my head. He didn't understand my words. “I-I’ve never done this before, Logan.” I could see the realization on his face, the fact that I wasn’t talking about going home with men, but like… actually… having sex.

  “A…” He locked his jaw again, his molars grinding together, his eyes closing on their own. “A virgin.” He didn't phrase it like a question.

  I couldn’t breathe. The air was so thick, so hot. My truth hanging between us.

  “A virgin,” he said again and slowly opened his eyes, and I swore it was like his green eyes glowed in the darkness of the room. The change came over him slowly at first, then took over as if he couldn’t control himself. I saw possessiveness. Hardcore possessiveness. And it was aimed right at me.

  I wanted to go to him, but I was rooted to the spot. He crowded me, and that's what I wanted and more. All I smelled, felt, saw, and heard was Logan. I inhaled deeply. God, he smelled incredible, like expensive cologne and undertones of just being a male.

  Logan was just so big, so tall and broad, muscular and powerful that all I could imagine was him throwing me over his shoulder and devouring me.

  There was this part of me, this strange, foreign woman who I never knew existed in me, that wanted to tell Logan to fuck me so hard he made me forget my own name. That need overrode everything else, and by the look he gave me, the things he said… the way he growled, I had a pretty good feeling he felt the same way.

  The silence stretched out between us, but the intensity in his stare had me feeling dizzy with my desire for him.

  “You won’t ever have any man but me,” he said deeply, darkly.

  A shiver raced up my spine at the way he looked at me, at how those words—that demand—was uttered low, almost menacingly. Logan raked his gaze over the entire length of my body, and I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides, wanting nothing more than for him to touch me, for me to touch him… for Logan to thrust all those thick inches into my very willing body.

  “Tell me you understand that you’re mine and mine alone, Blythe.”

  This is crazy. This isn’t reality.

  This is the single most incredible moment of my life.

  “I’m only yours.”

  8

  Blythe

  “You want me.” He didn’t pose it as a question, because Logan knew exactly what I wanted.

  I was here. In his room. Wet and ready for him.

  But maybe he wanted me to go full-on explicit, telling him I wanted to have his cock between my thighs, splitting me in two. Did he want me to admit I wanted him to pop my cherry, to be the only man I felt deep in my unused body?

  ’Cause I would. I’d say it. God, I’d say it all.

  “Yes,” I whispered. I was soaked as it was, the very image of what he was packing down there enough to have any female’s body working overtime to prepare itself. Because in my mind I imagined him really having to work to fit that gloriously thick length into my pussy.

  He didn’t speak, just watched me as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt that couldn't hide all his male power. For a second, he didn’t move, his eyes locked on me, as if he was giving me this moment to stop him, to stop this.

  Wouldn’t happen.

  And my silence was clearly his breaking point, because he all but ripped the material off over his head, tossed it aside, and immediately went for his jeans. But I stilled, froze, as he watched me as silently and intently as a predator would a prey, right before it pounced and attacked.

  I swallowed the lump that suddenly lodged itself in my throat as I watched him get naked for me, as I saw every thick outline of his muscular body come into view. His body was a work of art, hard and toned, the very image of what the perfect male form—in my mind—was.

  My head was telling me to keep this going, and I realized I was getting undressed without even consciously realizing at first.

  Shirt up and off.

  Bra unhooked and dropped to the floor.

  Pants unbuttoned, unzipped, and shimmied out of.

  And last but not least… panties slipped down my thighs and kicked aside.

  I was speechless, my throat tight, my mouth dry, as I stood there completely naked, watching as he slowly finished getting undressed. And when his glorious male body was just as nude as I was, my jaw went slack at the monster he sported between his thighs.

  I wish I was exaggerating about the latter, but I wasn’t. God, I wasn’t.

  Despite the shadows, I could see him perfectly, and for the life of me, I couldn’t take my gaze off his erection. The girth of his cock looked as wide as my wrist, making my insides seize up, more wetness spilling from me as if my bod
y was saying, girl, we need to get you prepared for that.

  I didn’t know if I could take all of him, but I sure as hell was going to try. It turned me on immensely just thinking about Logan trying to fit all of that dick in me.

  He groaned, and I snapped my gaze to his face.

  “You keep staring at it, and I’m liable to come right here.” He was breathing so hard, the sound of air sawing in and out of his lungs filling the interior of the room. “You see what you do to me? How wet are you for me?”

  I lowered my focus back to his magnificent cock and swallowed roughly right when he reached down and grabbed the length. His palm was made to stroke that, big and wide, his fingers long so they could wrap fully around. I knew my fingertips wouldn’t even come close to touching if I tried to encircle him.

  I opened my mouth to tell him I was soaked, but a slow shake of his head stopped me. “Show me,” he demanded in a low, deep voice. “Run your fingers over your cunt and show me.”

  Holy hell.

  A little moan left me at how aroused I was, and I was growing even more so with every second that passed. I slid my hand between my legs, running the digits through my slit, moaning again at how good it felt. I didn't even care if this was obscene, if I’d never blatantly done something like this. I was too far gone to give a shit. I was too turned on and ready for Logan that I would have done anything he said at the moment.

  “Show me,” he gruffly said. “Show me what I do to you.”

  My heart was beating in my throat, and I did what he demanded. I held the fingers up, showing him how they glistened, how the digits were so saturated I actually felt the cream start to slip down my fingers.

  A rough growl left him.

  “Drenched. For me.”

  Before I knew what was going on, he was in front of me, his hand curled around my wrist, his eyes locked on mine. He brought those soaked fingers to his mouth, and while holding his gaze with mine, Logan sucked the digits into his mouth, licking and sucking all my arousal from them.