“I guess it does.”
In a feat of agility that I’d never had before—at least not without someone getting smacked in the face accidentally—I twisted us sideways so he was stretched along the sofa and I was straddling him. The hand that had been around his neck was now propping me up while I caressed the other up his chest to tease his nipple.
His cheeks were flushed and his eyes wide, like he hadn’t expected this turn of events—pun intended. I leaned down, grinning wickedly. “Now you’re all laid.”
“Oh god, that’s terrible—”
I thrust my hips, and he gasped. I licked my lips. “Terrible?”
“Okay, maybe not so bad.” His hands found their new position on my ass, guiding me to rock my hips, squeezing, digging in a little through my slacks.
“Mmm, I thought so.” I followed the rhythm he set, keeping it slow and sensual as I lowered my lips to his. This wasn’t much different from what we’d done on the dance floor—although this time we were horizontal and there seemed to be a promise of an orgasm at the end.
One that didn’t involve me alone in bed thinking of him.
My fingers brushed over his nipple again, this time finding the peaked nub through his shirt and pinching.
He grunted, his hands tightening, breaking our rhythm and the kiss. “Not that.”
“No?”
He shook his head without moving more than an inch. “Rub, lick, lips, but no biting or pinching. It’s, like, actually reverse arousing.”
“Noted.” A kiss. “Definitely don’t want to do that.” Instead I traced my fingers to the buttons of his shirt and began undoing them. After all, it was hard to lick a nipple through a shirt. He had an undershirt on, but with some cooperation, I was able to push it up out of the way.
Immediately I was distracted from his nipples by the ink that sprawled from his shoulders down the sides of his torso, accenting his obliques with matched waves of tribal-esque swirls. “Oh fuck.”
He moaned, possibly because I’d stopped moving, and his fingers began to fiddle with my fly. “Something wrong?”
“I forgot that I get to explore all of this.” I pulled out of his grip—which was a shame, because he’d almost had his hand in my briefs—and slid down his body until my mouth was positioned at the bottom point of the tattoo, right above the waist of his pants. “Not ticklish, are you?”
He chuckled breathlessly. “Think I would have been able to get this tattoo if I was?”
“Good.” I traced the thick lines of ink with my lips and tongue, following the curves over muscles that rippled beneath the teasing touch and tensed when I stopped to suck—or nip—a particularly tasty bit.
“Fuck,” he whispered, one hand grabbing my shoulder, the other fisting itself in my hair. He didn’t direct me where to go, only held on, like he needed to be grounded as my mouth traveled.
“You can pull if you’d like,” I murmured against his pec before my lips abandoned the tattoo to play over his nipple.
“Fuck,” was his response, and his fingers tightened, once again tugging without commanding.
The slight ache slithered down my spine and nestled in my groin. Fuck was right. His grip was perfect. I hummed my approval against his skin, wetting his nipple with a kiss and then blowing cool air on it to watch it tighten. His sensitivity was something I’d need to explore more, but at the moment, there was an urgent matter at hand: the constraint of our pants.
With his shirts covering the rest of the tattoos, I dropped down, passing all that lovely muscled torso until my lips sealed over his belly button while my fingers undid his zipper. Pushing through the opening, his cock strained against his briefs. I glanced down and amusement curled my lips.
“Do you seriously have a Mario mushroom on your underwear?”
“Shit.” He groaned. “I forgot I was wearing those.”
I muffled my snicker against his groin, pressing into the hard-on.
“Jesus,” he whispered, his voice hitching. “Uh, yeah, the back says ‘Eat me and I’ll make you grow.’”
My snickers got worse.
He massaged my scalp with his fingers. “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”
“Well, better test the theory.”
“What do you—”
But I’d already tugged his underwear down, releasing his cock to wrap my lips around it.
“Fuck!”
I slid my mouth down, taking him as deep as I could. His cockhead bumped against the back of my throat, the width enough that I knew I’d ache by the end of this. I was looking forward to it.
And, by the way, his underwear was accurate: eating him did make me grow.
I pulled back until only his head was in my mouth, lips tight around the neck, choking it while my tongue played over the slit. I dropped my hands to my own pants, hastily pushing down my far-less-amusing underwear to free my cock. The first touch of air was refreshingly cool, which made my hand feel like a hot brand when I fisted my cock. I muffled my moan by filling my throat with his dick.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Hell. You’re touching yourself, aren’t you? Fuck, that’s hot.” He groaned again as I accidentally let my teeth brush a little too close against his skin on an upstroke. “Damn it, Isaac.”
I wasn’t sure why he was damning me, unless he liked ending the night with blue balls. I sucked harder instead of asking.
“Yes,” he whispered, and then his head smacked against the sofa cushion. “Fuck. No.”
His words were conflicting, but his hands released me to grab under my arms and drag me up before I could back off on my own. His cock slipped from my mouth with a wet pop, and I had to let go of my own to catch myself as my lips fell against his.
In between kisses, he panted, “If you keep that up, I’ll come.” I rather thought that was the point, but he purred, “And as much as I’d love to fuck your mouth, tonight I want you up here. With me.”
Before I could say a thing, his large hand wrapped around both of our cocks, pressing them together in that tight heat, slicked by my spit. The other hand grabbed my ass and started me rocking, not that I needed much encouragement. The new position wasn’t as intense as my hand on my cock, his in my mouth, but the slide of his hand, the bumps and ridges as our cocks rubbed together, was intimate. A slow, steady fuck rather than a rush to orgasm, his one hand setting the pace, the other squeezing a little with every perfect thrust.
The shivers of anticipation started as a tightness in my balls, then spread with a sharp explosion when I came, thrusting hard against him, prolonging my orgasm. He cried out as I kept shuddering, and I let my body be guided by his hands, falling to the side when he indicated the contact was too much.
I panted against his chest, my face tucked between his shoulder and neck. There was some movement, and then he rubbed along my back with a clean hand.
“You okay?”
I laughed as another shiver rocked through me, my exhausted muscles quivering. “Um, yeah.”
“That was kinda great.”
“‘Kinda’?” I snorted. “How about ‘pretty damn’?”
He kissed my temple, his breath warm as he said, “You’re right. That was pretty damn great.”
“Mmm,” I agreed, then shifted so I was less straddling him and more lying along him, our bodies folded together on the small space of the sofa, wrapped in the heat of sex. There would be a chill later as the exertion wore off, but for now I could stay here forever.
It was an amazing and terrifying thought.
“I’m sorry we’re all abandoning you for New Year’s,” Jackson, one of my best friends, said over the phone. He currently sounded like Darth Vader—including the interspersed heavy breathing.
“It’s okay—”
“You’re only saying that because my kid didn’t get you sick!”
“Well, yeah. But what did you expect when you had your toddler around everyone for Christmas? They’re little breeding grounds for sick. But as much as I wish I was ri
nging in the new year with you guys, I, uh, sorta met someone.”
“Oh? In the five days I’ve been dead to the world?”
“Pretty much.” I could feel the heat in my cheeks, although I knew Jackson and Emmett had gone from meeting to married in a very short time. “I met him right after Christmas, and since all of my friends had to cancel their plans with me this week, I spent all my time with him. It was fun. And he invited me to go hang with his people on New Year’s Eve.”
“Oh, meeting the friends already?”
“Jeez. First you abandon me, then you heckle me for making other plans.”
Jackson gave a throaty laugh that sounded more like death than amusement. “Sorry. Go have fun. I’m just excited our little Zack is all grown up.”
Sigh. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Another phlegmy chuckle. “I am excited you met someone though. I hope New Year’s Eve goes well.”
“Thanks. I hope you and Emmett and Rosa feel better.”
“Sure. We’ll ring in the new year by being unconscious in bed. Parenting is fun.”
“Look at your life; look at your choices.”
“I do. Every day. No regrets.”
“You’re disgustingly happy.” I stuck my tongue out at the phone.
“Hey, I want all my friends disgustingly happy too.”
“And sick, it seems,” I couldn’t help adding.
“If love is a sickness, then I don’t want to be well!”
I snorted. “Okay, I think your cold meds have kicked in. Say good night, Gracie.”
“Good night, Shirley.”
I had no clue what he was talking about. The drugs must have hit him hard. I lowered the phone and texted in the group chat that I hoped everyone had a good new year and felt better, and that despite them abandoning me, I had plans. They didn’t rib me much—they probably figured Jackson would have already—and asked for all the details.
I told them the bare facts, trying not to gush. I wasn’t superstitious or anything, but it felt risky to say how awesome Logan was when we hadn’t known each other that long. It was hard not to, though, because he was awesome, and after last night, everything felt right.
Jenna demanded: We better get pics.
<3 If only so we know who to hunt down, Laura, her girlfriend, said.
Definitely not to judge your taste in men, Mark said.
Roe admitted, I will totally be judging.
You will not be disappointed, I promised. It had only been a week, so I didn’t have any couple-selfies. I didn’t think that would give the best angle anyway, although it would show his broadness. Would he find it odd if I insisted on taking a picture of him? Preferably shirtless.
The thought was still on my mind as Logan picked me up in his car and we headed to his friends’ place. Not that envisioning Logan shirtless was a hardship. But a picture? It depended on how the evening went—the involvement of booze could go a long way toward getting a man’s shirt off, as I knew from personal experience. Not that I had plans to get him drunk and take advantage of him. Well, maybe for the topless pictures, which, when phrased that way, did sound pretty skeevy.
Sigh. Okay, no sneaky shirtless pics were happening. I’d have to see if he’d pose for me anyway. Shirt optional.
“You’re smirking again,” Logan said as we walked down the street toward his friend’s place. “I thought you’d be nervous about meeting everyone, but there you are grinning like a maniac.”
I snorted. “I had managed to distract myself. Now I’m nervous. Thanks.”
“Nothing to be nervous about.” He used his hold on my hand to tug me closer so our shoulders bumped.
“Then why did you think I would be?”
“Uh . . .” He chuckled, then affected Ackbar’s voice. “It’s a trap.”
I shivered. That voice shouldn’t be sexy, but it also didn’t seem possible for Logan to make a voice that wasn’t sexy. This was a twisty, confusing experience. “Well, I had been thinking about what I’d need to do to get you shirtless so I could take pictures to send to my friends to make them all jealous, but . . .”
“I volunteer as tribute.”
I pulled him down to kiss his cheek, honestly amazed that we didn’t bash heads. “You’re a brave man.”
Truth be told, I was extremely nervous about meeting his friends. Because these weren’t just his friends. They were his family. Sure, he’d met my family, but that had been on a lark; he hadn’t been trying to impress them. Had been trying the opposite, actually. I, however, was going into the lion’s den with the people who were most important to Logan.
No pressure.
“See, this is what I expected as we headed to the party,” he said, knocking on the front door of a townhouse. “Terrified silence.”
I took a deep breath and held it a second. “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I’m the pickiest one in the group, I swear. And you passed my muster, so you must be okay.”
“Oh good, I’m ‘okay.’”
He was still snickering when the door opened and a dark-skinned, curly-haired woman was standing there. Immediately her mouth split open in a huge smile. “Logan!”
Her gaze shifted to me and raked over my body like I was naked and she could see every blemish. Although, based on the gleam in her eye, maybe she wasn’t looking at blemishes. “And your guest.”
“I’ll introduce him to everyone once you let us inside.” He nudged the door with the toe of his shoe.
She stepped aside, holding the door wide and making a sweeping gesture with her arm. “Entrez vous, s’il vous plaît.”
“Oooh, a fancy French restaurant.” I clamped my hands around Logan’s arm like ladies always did when they were excited in rom-coms. And it wasn’t only to hide the slight nervous tremor in my hands. “Logan, why didn’t you tell me? I would have dressed better!”
Logan rolled his eyes as we stepped in, but the young woman who’d opened the door was giggling as she closed it behind us. “I hate to disappoint, mysterious stranger, but that’s all the French I know. Though there will be, uh, apéritifs and hors d’oeuvres.”
I let go of Logan’s arm to clap, hamming it up and earning a grin from her. Then I slipped out of my jacket, and Logan took the coat, eyes rolling again. Still? He handed the jackets to our host, who hung them in a closet full of tangled shoes.
“Okay,” she said, “let’s go introduce your cutie to everyone else.”
I slipped my hand into Logan’s, not wanting to be clingy but needing something to settle the nerves that were rocketing through my body. He squeezed my hand and threw me a smile as we climbed a short set of steps and turned into a living room packed with people. Okay, not wall-to-wall packed, but the seats were all filled and a few people were standing by a table that was weighed down with food. I was glad we’d decided to bring champagne.
“Okay, everyone!” our host announced. “Logan is here with his arm candy. Time for introductions.” She turned to me. “There will be a test later, of course.”
“Of course,” I said. Although I hoped everyone wasn’t expecting much from me. My name-face recall was awful. Like, if I hadn’t been eye-fucking Logan on our first meeting, I would have forgotten his name in the first half an hour. It was bad.
“My name’s Erika,” our host said, and then she pointed around the room, throwing out names at such speed that I barely had time to repeat them once in my head before she was moving on to the next person. She was grinning when she finished. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Okay.” I pointed at myself. “My name’s Erika.”
It got the laughs I was going for, even from Logan. He dragged me farther into the room and made more personal introductions. The crowd was friendly, although it felt like as soon as anyone said one word to Logan, they slipped into a foreign language—and it wasn’t French. There were references to shows I hadn’t seen, experiences I hadn’t been present for, topi
cs I knew nothing about. Nothing strange when meeting new people. I clung to Logan so I wouldn’t float away on a sea of unfamiliarity. It was probably normal new-person jitters.
Thankfully as we went around, he made a point to say which were his “best friends” versus just “friends,” giving me a clue they were important and I should remember them. I only hoped I could: Erika, Jacob, Bryan, Troy, Alessa, and Matti. I tried to lock them in. It was a blessing his friends were varied and colorful, so at least they weren’t twelve blonde sorority sisters I’d need to tell apart.
Eventually we ended up on a couch, plates of food balanced on our knees, drinks cluttering the coffee table.
“All I’m saying is, it’s been a hell of a year,” Erika said. “I know nothing changes at the strike of midnight, but I want to wash away all of it.”
“All of it?” Alessa asked from her spot on the floor by Erika’s feet, head angled up, a teasing smile on her lips.
“Well. I guess getting together with you was a good thing.”
“Wow. Thanks.” Alessa turned her head and bit Erika’s knee.
“Hey!” Erica gently smacked the back of Alessa’s head. “I said it was a good thing!”
“You guess.” Alessa pouted and Erika bent down. I averted my gaze as they shared a disgustingly sweet kiss.
I focused on Logan instead, who was smirking and watching me. He leaned over to murmur in my ear, “What do you think so far?”
I bussed my lips against his cheek and whispered back, “They are terrifying and wonderful.”
His hum rippled down my spine and settled in my groin, not at all helped by his warm hand landing on my thigh, above the plate, and giving a squeeze. “I’m glad you approve.”
“Aww, the cute new couple is being all couple-y.”
Logan glared at Troy—well, I thought it was Troy. “Fuck off. You’re just jealous.”
Troy grabbed his chest in mock hurt. “I would deny it, were it not true.”
The banter slipped into talks about the shitty past year—filled with inside jokes that flew over my head and cutting comments that made me wince—hopes for the new one, and plans for resolutions, most of which seemed to be variations of “last year’s resolutions, but actually do them.”
Hard Truths Page 5