by Nikki Sloane
“I’m going to . . . “ my panicked voice said. “Oh, shit . . .” I knew I was supposed to do something, but I couldn’t think what. The next thrust would be the one to get me there. That was all I could think of. But every thrust only took me higher.
“Yes, Evie,” he said. “Come for me.”
He pushed so deep inside me I screamed. At least, I think I did. My climax gripped me. It made my ears go deaf. My forehead was against the glass where beads of sweat had made it slippery. The muscles inside me flexed over and over again, and I rode the remainder of the orgasm out on him.
“No,” I heard him groan. “No. Fuck.” His hands were tight on me, clamping down on my waist. Who the hell was he talking to?
Himself. Because he was coming. Once he’d gone too far to pull himself back, he gave up fighting and pumped his dick in and out furiously, until his body seized.
“Fuck, Evie, fuck . . .”
The throbbing inside me was strong, a series of jerks followed by a rush of heat as he shot into me. The sensation was so unexpectedly hot, I quieted a moan and dragged a hand down the glass Titanic-style.
“I don’t remember . . .” I gasped, “. . . giving you permission.”
“Yeah, well, maybe don’t scream when you’re coming all over my cock.”
I turned to look over my shoulder at him. I don’t know where the playful words came from. “Hey, don’t blame me, asshole. It’s not my fault you don’t have any self-control.”
Genuine shock on his face morphed into a hard look, and I gasped. Oh, no. He pulled out of me suddenly. It had been a joke—
His hand came down so fast I heard the smack before I felt the sting of his fingers on the flesh of my backside. Heat all but incinerated me.
“I have plenty of control,” he whispered, rubbing where he’d just struck me. “Maybe I just won’t let you come anymore. Would you like that?”
I simultaneously felt relief and concern. He wasn’t mad about the asshole comment. In fact, he looked like he enjoyed it. But I absolutely believed he’d make good on his threat if he needed to.
“No, I wouldn’t,” I replied.
“I thought so.”
He helped me to stand up, the dress falling to my ankles. Feeling had returned to my body and now my feet screamed in protest. I put a hand on his shoulder to steady myself and bent a knee to undo the strap, but his arms went around my body and lifted me off of my feet. He carried me a few steps to the couch and set me down, bending on a knee so he could undo the tiny buckle holding the suffering shoe in place.
He had a weird, bashful look on his face. Guilt.
“What is it?”
“You wanted to take these off before we started and I didn’t let you.” When the shoe was slipped off, he rubbed the sensitive flesh beneath it gently, and went to the other one.
“You knew the shoes were hurting me?”
He nodded. “But doing it like that,” he gestured to where he’d pressed me against the glass, “we needed the extra height.”
I choked a laugh. “I’ll survive. You, on the other hand, broke one of your own rules.”
“I did. I have an idea for a consequence, if you want to hear it.” He scooped me up into his arms and lifted me from the couch, lumbering with me toward the bedroom.
“I’m all ears.” He set me in the center of the bed and stepped back, undoing the cuffs of his dress shirt.
“Since I couldn’t follow the rule, you don’t have to next time.”
Interesting. But . . . “You can do better than that.”
“All right. The rest of the weekend.” He pulled his shoes and socks off, and stepped out of his pants so he was as naked as I was. I smiled in acceptance. He’d said it begrudgingly like this was a huge concession, and I relished it.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cuddler,” I said when he slipped into the bed. He was on his back and pulled me up against him so my cheek was on his shoulder. He was warm, and his cologne smelled amazing. Like a man. His hand went to my knee and pulled it over his thigh to tuck me around him, our damp skin sticking together.
“You’re surprised I want to have a beautiful, naked woman draped on me?”
“Not when you put it like that, no.”
I put my hand on his chest and let my fingers wander, tracing patterns over his heart. He turned his head and brushed his lips over my forehead in a kiss and then sighed.
“It’s getting late,” he said in a hushed voice, “and we’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
“I know,” I said. “I just like touching you. Feel free to fall asleep.”
“So you can steal my virtue? No thank you.” His arms tightened on me. “Sleep. You can have your way with me tomorrow.”
I woke early and alone, and called out to him but got no response. I yanked the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around myself, then roamed into the kitchen to discover the note he’d left for me there.
“Gone for a run, be back by seven forty-five. Diet Coke in the fridge.”
Years of working together had taught him I didn’t start my day with coffee, but with a silver can of soda. I cinched the sheet tighter at the cold from the fridge, retrieving the can, and when I shut the door I glanced into the living room.
The clothes we’d dropped in there were gone. He must have hung them up while I was sleeping. There was a spray bottle of Windex with a towel folded over top, from where he’d cleaned the glass. What a little neat freak he was. It brought a smile to my face when I wondered if he got turned on cleaning the smudges we’d put there.
I popped the top on the can and took a sip when I heard the door open behind me.
“It’s fucking hot out there,” he said.
I almost dropped the can when I turned to face him. He had on a pair of shoes and shorts, but no shirt, and a black armband that carried his iPhone. Sweat rolled down his flushed face and dripped from his tanned and toned chest. He pulled a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and drank while undoing the Velcro of his armband, and then set it on the counter.
I just stood there, awestruck, as he finished the entire bottle. He tossed it in the recycling bin, pulled a water bottle from the fridge, and turned his focus to me.
“I’m sorry I had to go out, but I have to stick to my training schedule.” He took a breath, looking concerned. “You okay?”
“I’m just trying not to drool.”
A smile broke on his face. “I’m a sweaty mess. You’re the one wearing nothing but my sheets. Take them off.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to fuck you in the shower. If you don’t mind.”
Sometimes I think he said things like that to catch me off-guard, but I loved throwing it right back at him.
I dropped the sheet to the floor. “I guess we could do that.”
There was a crunch of plastic as his grip tightened on the bottle.
chapter
THIRTEEN
This was another first for me. It’s not like the showers in my college apartments were spacious or remotely sexy, and the shower in my place now barely had room for one.
I stood awkwardly in the semi-hallway between his bedroom and bathroom, watching him toe off his shoes and toss his socks into a laundry basket. In one swift move, he yanked down his shorts and boxers and added them to the basket, his feet falling heavily on the floor as he moved toward me.
It was bizarre, this feeling of nervousness I had, and I shook my head as if that could shake the sensation from my body. He’d seen me naked plenty, and I’d been up close and personal with his anatomy. Yet there was sunlight flooding every inch of his apartment and it was like a spotlight on every flaw in my body. He looked at me like they didn’t exist. He gave me a gaze filled with pure, unadulterated lust.
This man desired me like no one else. My feet moved backward into the bathroom so I wouldn’t break his gaze. I had blinders on; nothing else existed.
“Are you running from me?” he asked, when I backed up with a
thud into the wide glass door of his shower.
“No. I like looking at you. I like how you look at me.”
Logan’s shoulders lifted in a deep breath and his eyes softened. Whoa. He liked hearing that. A hand reached out and took my wrist and silently asked me to step forward, so he could pull the door open and start the water.
It rained down from the ceiling in the large, subway-tiled glass enclosure. I’d never thought of describing a bathroom as sexy, but this room was full of sex, and not just because he was standing in it.
“I should probably warn you, we don’t really have a lot of time. I know traffic’s going to be bad on 90.”
“So, you’re telling me no dilly-dallying? Let’s get right to the sex?”
He had an enigmatic smile. “Something like that.” He pulled the door open again. “Ladies first.”
I stepped in and under the water, wiping my hair back out of my face. It was hot. I took another step further into the spacious shower to allow him to get in. Instead, his body crushed me flat against the tile, his defined chest in my back.
“It’s going to be hard, and fast, and rough. If you want to stop, tell me,” he commanded.
All of the air left my body in an instant. He wanted it rough enough we needed a warning? He flipped me around to face him and leaned me back into the tile wall, water pouring down the intense expression on his face. He had one hand stroking his dick and the other buried between my legs, his thick fingers teasing me.
I wasn’t sure my body could go from zero to sixty, but I was already turned on at the sight of him. The way his hand touched and rubbed me, caressed me . . . it took no time for the ache to build to fever pitch.
“Do you want my cock?”
I nodded, already too drunk with desire to find words easily.
“Say it.”
“I want your cock,” I said on a broken, shuddering breath.
“Where? Here?” He shoved a finger inside me, unapologetic. His face was shocking and dark, like a predator and I was his cornered prey. “Beg me for it.”
I swallowed, not really sure how to do that. “Please, Logan.”
“Not good enough. Make me believe.”
The water ran into my eyes and made him blurry. His fingers moved in a wicked sequence, touching me outside and then plunging inside. Each time he repeated it, my need and agony grew.
“Please,” I cried, “please. I have to have it. I need it.”
“What do you need?”
“Your cock.” I trembled, out of control and falling apart. “I need what only you can give me.”
His nostrils flared in approval. Then, the predator descended upon me. Hands went to the insides of my thighs and urged them apart, lifting one of my knees up so it was hooked over his forearm. His hands braced himself on the wall and he bent his knees so he was at just the right angle to impale me in one swift move.
I gave a sharp hiss at the invasion, my body not used to his size so suddenly. I wrapped my arms around his neck, having to hold on when he fucked me. It was just as he’d said it would be. Hard and fast. My body slammed into the wall from his thrusts. The sound of us colliding over and over again was just loud enough over the shower.
The water running off of him was salty with sweat and I licked my lips, tasting it. Tasting him, since we hadn’t kissed. The hand not holding my leg up abandoned the wall and locked onto my breast, squeezing so hard it was right at the edge of pain.
But it was so fucking hot. Not just the shower, but what he was doing.
I should have been upset by this. That there had been no requests or apologies. No compromise. This was all about his pleasure. I was a prop, a doll for his command.
Yet, I loved this. Surrendering completely to him, allowing him to take exactly what he wanted. Letting him yank my other knee up around him so he held me up, pinned to the wall, and could drive into me harder, crashing my back against the unforgiving tile. I arched, pressing my breasts against him, letting my wet body slide against his.
“This pussy is mine,” he growled. “No one else has been inside it like I have.”
God, the stuff he said. I was grateful we were in the shower, because it sent a rush of liquid desire straight to my center. This feral, alpha-male version of Logan was scary and thrilling and I was drawn to it. Eager to submit.
“This pussy is yours,” I repeated back to him, and he made a sound of pure satisfaction. My orgasm came out of nowhere. By the time I had an inkling of it, I was already in the throes, past the point of no return. Electricity jolted down my spine. I gasped when I came, moaning in his ear, over and over until it subsided.
He dropped my legs and pulled out of me, no warning or explanation. His rough hands whirled me around, putting me it the same position I’d been in last night, my hands flush against the tile. He didn’t have to tell me to keep them there. I had no choice unless I wanted him to literally bang my head into the wall.
His furious pace created a slap between our bodies.
“You like it when I fuck you hard?” he asked.
“Yes.” I was panting, much like I’d done that night on the table. One week ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then. The air was thick with steam, and I felt like I was breathing in water, drowning in it.
He put a hand in my hair at the nape of my neck and yanked, bending my head back toward him. It hurt this time. It was awkward and made me feel powerless. Dominated. So of course I enjoyed it. This was why he had warned me? A little hair pulling?
No. It had more to do with the hand that was in the small of my back, drifting lower, closer to his body inside me. Sliding into the crevice between my cheeks. My heart was already racing, threatening to explode, and I started to shake when he pressed his thumb against my entrance there. Just the feeling of him was shocking and confusing like last time, and just as pleasurable. He increased the pressure, and started to invade me.
He hadn’t slowed down a beat on his thrusts, but my thoughts were firmly focused on the finger working deeper inside me, a burning and uncomfortable sensation. Usually off limits. But, fuck, it turned me on. I shouldn’t like it. But I really fucking did. He pushed in deeper until I think his thumb was as far as it would go.
“You like that, dirty girl?”
My throat closed up, and I couldn’t nod my head because of his hold on my hair, but, holy fucking shit, I did. I shouldn’t. It was so wrong.
“I bet you do. I bet you want more.”
The burning sensation was gone and then shifted. He slipped his index and forefingers inside. I held my tongue that wanted to tell him to wait. I could do this.
“I’m going to fuck you here.” Before I could respond, he added, “Not right now, but soon as you’re ready, I’m going to fuck this tight, little virgin ass.”
For effect, his fingers moved slowly, in and out in contrast to what his dick was doing. It wasn’t really uncomfortable. My body relaxed to his movement, and the first wave of enjoyment washed over me. But it was million degrees in this shower.
“It’s okay to like it,” he said, as if reading my mind, the one that was in total panic. I clawed at the wall, shaking apart. Oh god, I was going to come.
It was going to be loud.
“I’m . . . going to . . . scream.” Each breath was a giant struggle.
“Go ahead.”
He released my hair. His hand dragged up my neck and curled around my face until his palm was firmly covering my mouth. So my scream fell against his skin, muffling it somewhat but it still echoed in the vast space, and it set him off as well with a whole tirade of dirty words and jerky thrusts as he came. Most of what he said I couldn’t understand; I was busy trying not to collapse. The orgasm had been epic and gave me shaky legs, and his hand remained around my mouth, making it almost impossible to breathe.
He removed his fingers from me, but as soon as I’d come, I wanted them gone. My body felt overloaded. His hands closed around my waist and pulled me upright and back against him, s
o he was holding me from behind. I couldn’t catch my breath. Where was the air?
“Are you okay?” he asked with a decent level of concern. I tried to nod, but it only made me dizzier. The water falling around me looked . . . wrong. It was falling much too fast. I couldn’t—
Black.
“Evie!” He peered down at me, his face terrified. What the hell? He had me cradled in his arms and he was kneeling on the floor of the shower.
“What happened?”
He squeezed me, hugging me tightly to him. Crushing me. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!”
“Logan, stop. How did we end up on the floor?”
He relaxed his hold, and his head over mine shielded me from the falling water. When he smoothed a clump of wet hair back off of my face, I could see the subtle shake of his hand. “You passed out.”
I looked away because his panicked face was devastating. I tried to sit up, but his arms were reluctant to release me.
“I’m okay. I just got really hot.”
He helped me move across the floor, positioning me so I was sitting against one of the walls, and he threw open the shower door. He stormed through it, abandoning me there with absolutely no words. I stared out the glass, dumbfounded. How could he just leave?
He was back a moment later, naked, dripping wet, a water bottle in hand. Oh. He stepped back in and turned the water temperature down so it was just barely warm, then knelt beside me, unscrewing the top and offering the bottle. When I took it, he sat back from me and ran a hand through his dark hair. He looked horribly unsettled.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He stared at me with disbelief. “I’m the one who did that to you. My body core temp got messed up from coming into air conditioning after the run. I had no idea the water was too hot.”
“I’m okay, really.” I took a sip of water, already feeling almost normal again. “You need to stop looking at me like I’m dying, it’s freaking me out.”
He was unconvinced. When I tried to stand, he put his hands on my shoulders and stopped me. I wrapped my hands around his wrists.