Erika turned to me, eyes sparkling. “So, Isaac, what’s your resolution?”
“The usual: lose weight, make millions, have a hot biker fall madly in love with me.” The hand on my thigh squeezed again, and I couldn’t help smiling. “I have high hopes.”
“Good luck with that last one,” Alessa chimed, and everyone started talking at once—I couldn’t quite follow what was being said, mostly because the hand on my thigh had inched up a little bit more.
“I have high hopes too” was whispered in my ear with such promise that I felt like a fool: one week and I was falling hard.
But at least he seemed to be falling with me.
“Four!”
“Three!”
“Two!”
“One!”
“Happy mummmum . . .” My greeting to the new year was muffled as Logan covered my mouth with his lips. Damn could he kiss. Not only with his lips and tongue, but his hands, his breath, his entire body molding against me and drawing me into it until I gladly submitted to whatever he wanted. And what he wanted to do was kiss. If we weren’t at his friend’s house, we probably would have dropped to the couch and gone further—our hands were already creeping toward skin—but we didn’t. Even though I wanted to wrap my legs around him and go at it.
He broke the kiss, whispering, “Happy New Year,” against my lips while I panted and tried not to hump his leg, which I’d straddled at some point.
“Happy New Year,” I managed between breaths, staring up into his dark eyes. “A very nice start to the year.”
“I think it promises to be a good one.”
He pressed his lips to mine again, stealing my breath away once more, and I knew he was right.
I woke slowly, wrapped in warmth. Logan was beside me, still smelling faintly of cologne. I’d gone home with him the night before, plans of fucking like bunnies forefront in my mind as we got into the car. But as we drove the relatively short distance to his place, the hum of the champagne, the purr of the car, and the lateness of the hour had worked together to drag my eyelids farther and farther down. By the time we brushed our teeth and stripped out of our clothes, my kisses had been sleepy. The heat of our bodies cocooned in the blanket had been the final nudge that pushed me into sleep.
But now I felt rejuvenated. And other things. As much as I didn’t want to, I slipped from the bed and made a quick escape to the bathroom. I did my business and was back under the covers before Logan woke up, my spot still warm if not my hands. I gave them a moment before I succumbed to the urge to touch him. Up his arms, tracing tattoos hidden from view by blankets; across his shoulders, following the swoop of his muscles; teasing down his pecs, the ridges of his abdomen, to rest above the abundance of dark curls.
“Mmm” vibrated through him, rumbling beneath my fingers and shooting like a charge through me. “I see you’re awake now.”
I kissed his shoulder and used my leverage to press our bodies together, one leg creeping over him, my groin telling him that I was very much up. “Yes, I’m sorry I fell asleep last night.”
A chuckle. No one should be able to sound that filthy first thing in the morning. “I wore you out.”
I snorted. “That you did. But luckily I seem to have recovered.”
“You have.” He rolled onto his back, sliding an arm around me and playing his fingers up my spine, over the circuit-board tattoo he loved so much. His eyes were crinkled with sleep, and wrinkles were imprinted into his cheek from the sheets. I couldn’t help brushing my fingers along those grooves, and he smiled. “What ever shall we do with our day?”
“Well, it’s a New Year’s tradition in my family to have pork and sauerkraut.”
“With mashed potatoes?”
“Always.”
“Mmm, sounds good.” He rocked us over, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his lips against mine, recalling the first kiss we’d shared in the new year. Heat sparked through me, and all thoughts of dinner—or breakfast and lunch, for that matter—fled.
I spread my legs to cradle his body, and hugged him with my thighs as each kiss bled into another, lips and tongues dancing together. I gripped his shoulders, the hot skin on one side of my hands, the cool air on the other. Sliding one hand to the back of his neck, I kept him there—not that he was trying to move away—and took control of the kiss. As much as I wanted the explosive passion his lips promised, I had some exploring I wanted to do first.
When I managed to break the kiss, I used my weight—and his cooperation—to roll us over so I was on top, my hands pinning his shoulders and our hips locked together in the most perfect way. Well, maybe the second most perfect way. Or third. I could think of a few other positions . . .
I was getting distracted. It wasn’t hard to get distracted by him, an expanse of tan, tattooed skin rippling with muscle beneath me.
“See,” I said, apropos of nothing, “if we’d met in the summer, I wouldn’t have to put off the rigorous fucking.”
He smirked. “‘Rigorous fucking’? You have a way with language.”
I rubbed my cock against his, using his groin to cut off his words with a gasp. “I have a need to see all your tattoos. Up close.”
In case he wasn’t sure how close I meant, I raised his right arm to my lips and kissed his knuckles.
“Have at me.”
I started on the arm with the intricate designs because I wasn’t stupid. There was a good chance I’d get involved in what I was doing and begin to rush. And if I missed anything, I wanted it to be the tribal designs and not the ones that needed studied. Not that I’d actually get through them all this morning.
I brushed my lips over the smattering of sea spray, then slid to his wrist and nibbled at the bone. When I’d had my fill, I turned it over to follow the swell of waves to a mark on the inside. It was a shooting star, the trail melting into the waves. I was tempted to ask what it meant. If it held meaning. But there would be time for that. We’d known each other a week, and he had a lot of tattoos. I couldn’t expect the story behind each one right now.
The fingers of his other hand curled into my hair. “What are you thinking?”
“That I look forward to learning all your stories.” I kissed the shooting star and followed the current to the next one: a dragon wrapped around his forearm, the head nestled on his elbow.
“They don’t all have deep, meaningful histories, you know.”
“I figured.” I kissed the head of the dragon. “But I bet most of them do.”
“Well, all the good ones do.”
I hit upon a strange duck, its beak open to reveal razor-sharp teeth. It wasn’t bad, but the art wasn’t nearly as good as everything else I’d come across so far. “And this one?”
“Yeah, that’s the one I’m thinking of fixing up. It’s to tell the world to duck off.”
“Oh my god.”
“Uh-huh. I wish I could say there was booze involved, but my tattoo artist would never do that. I was stone-cold sober at the time.”
A giggle bubbled out of my chest and spilled across the ferocious avian. “It has a certain charm.”
I shifted to move up his arm, and our bare cocks bumped and slid together, pulling sounds of pleasure from both of us. The hand in my hair tightened. “You need to study every tattoo right now?”
I thrust my hips in our new position and pleasure sizzled over my skin. I raised my head from its spot by his shoulder. “You could possibly persuade me otherwise.”
“Oh? I wonder how I could do that.” The fingers loosened their grip on my hair and coursed down my body, trailing goose bumps in their wake before wrapping around my cock. “What have we here?”
I moaned as his hand stroked up. “It’s your New Year’s present.” Groaning, this time in pain, I let my forehead smack against his shoulder. “Sorry, that was terrible and I deserve to be punished.”
He cackled as he released my cock and flipped us over, pinning me to the bed. “I think not being able to kiss every tattoo this
morning will be a good punishment.”
I squirmed, enough to free my legs to spread for him, giving him a place between them. My thighs rested on either side of his hips. Heat flared through my body, but I couldn’t resist a playful grin. “Oh yes, punish me.”
He muffled his snort of laughter on my neck. It tickled, yet it made me quake with desire too. But maybe that was because the chuckles became kisses, his breath warm and moist as he rocked against me. “I dunno, you seem a little too eager to be punished.”
“And a discussion about kinky sex and safewords shouldn’t happen naked in bed.”
He froze, then rose up, far enough that I could see his dark, hungry eyes. He stared down at me, studying me a moment, then kissed me. “Right.”
A shiver slunk down my spine, half lust, half fear. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”
He dropped his mouth to my ear, whispering kisses there. “As you said, a discussion for when we’re not in bed about to fuck.”
“Fucking? Is that what we’re—” He cut off my snark with a well-placed thrust. I gasped and arched beneath him. “Hell.”
“I’d prefer heaven, thanks.” He nibbled his way along my neck.
I tilted my head, giving him all the access he wanted. And he took. God, did he take. But each inch he stole gave me another inch.
I groaned at my own bad pun.
“Don’t like that?” he asked against my collarbone.
“It’s wonderful. My brain is being mean and making terrible puns.”
He chuckled. I’d never known someone who laughed so much in bed. Of course, I’d rarely met someone who’d put up with my jokes for this long when there were straining erections between us, either. He kissed my breastbone. “Well, if you can still think up bad puns, I must not be doing my job.”
He doubled down. He went for my right nipple and didn’t hesitate to hook his teeth on the bar pierced there. One tug and I arched, my breath ripped from my lungs as all the blood rushed into my cock.
“Oh fuck. Puns forgotten,” I panted.
He let go and swiped his tongue over hot skin and metal, soothing the abused flesh. “Mmm, good. Let’s see if the other side is as effective.”
“Oh, it is—” I inhaled sharply as his teeth latched on to the matching bar. He didn’t pull this time, though, simply sank his pearly whites in a little more as fire burst from the contact and spread across my skin.
The initial pain—and yes, it was pain even though it made my cock leak against my stomach—was followed by his lips sealing around the peaked flesh and sucking. I might have blacked out from the pleasure. I definitely didn’t remember wrapping my legs around his hips and starting to hump him.
Sex was rarely a dignified activity, but I felt especially debauched this morning. Yet, I regretted nothing except his mouth pulling away.
“Fuck, you look . . .” He didn’t say how I looked, but by the rough growl of need in his voice, I could guess.
I released the sheets, which I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and clamped down on his shoulders again. “Fucking. Yes. Please.”
He rose up and shifted to the side, but didn’t get very far—my legs and hands were in a vise grip around him. Our groins rubbed in glorious friction, and he sank back down, seeking out my mouth for a sloppy kiss. “You need to let me go if you want fucking to happen.”
Oh, I wanted. It still took a moment for my brain to issue the orders and for my legs and arms to obey. Finally they let go and his heat left me. Only briefly though. Then he was once more a blanket of need over me, mouth claiming mine as if he’d missed the kisses as much as I had.
“Where were we?” He hummed against my lips.
“I think you were about to fuck me into the mattress.” I figured he’d forgive me the cliché; it was all his fault I couldn’t think.
“Yes.” He dipped beneath the covers again, his mouth finding my nipple, although he strummed rather than pulled it taut, and his hands searched between my splayed legs. A dry touch, like his fingers were on a scouting expedition, learning the lay of the land, teasing me endlessly. Then they left, there was a quiet squirt, and they returned, a little chilly and very slippery.
They knew exactly where to go.
A single slender digit slipped in, not much more than a caress. He traced the rim, then delved deeper, waking up and stretching the muscles. His kisses trailed their way up to my mouth, and his tongue thrust in as a second finger did. He devoured my moans as his fingers worked slowly and surely. Driving me mad.
He added a third, and I begged, “Please.”
“‘Please’?” he echoed, the word barely an exhale. His fingers twisted, either by design or goddamn luck, and pleasure shot through me.
“Fuck!” Everything in me tightened around him, trying to hold him there to keep that pleasure coming. “Right there. Please. Fuck me.”
His laugh was breathless. “I can’t stay right here and fuck you.”
I growled and bit his lip. Harder than I’d intended, but he didn’t seem to mind. “If you don’t fuck me this instant, I’m going to come on your fingers and leave you with blue balls.”
He froze, his fingers barely not touching my prostate, his dark eyes wide and his interest visible. “That’s . . . that’s hotter than it should be.”
“Fine.” I growled again and thrust against his fingers, sending another wave of pleasure through me.
“Oh no you don’t.” He pulled his fingers out and leaned back, taking a moment to roll on the condom and spread some lube on it. I waited impatiently. Then he positioned himself and pressed the head of his cock against my hole.
I relaxed and bore down. The head entered, stretching me in a way his fingers couldn’t. The widest part breached the ring of muscles and the pleasure doubled, the initial ache settling into heat. He pushed in with a slow, rocking progress as my body accepted his width. Resting his weight on his hands, he lowered his forehead to mine, our eyes locked. And then he was all the way in, his hips flush to my ass, our bodies joined. My breath caught as I stared up at him. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were flushed.
Fuck, he was gorgeous.
I tilted my chin up, silently asking, and he answered with the desired kiss. It was almost delicate and sweet despite the earlier dirty talk. It was fresh air, and I could breathe again.
“Fuck me.”
He pulled out and then thrust in hard and fast. My back arched and my eyes closed. Not because I didn’t want to see the hunger in his gaze, but because I simply couldn’t keep them open. A whispered yes hissed from between my lips, and he did it again. He set a rhythm that gave me no hope of holding back a litany of curses and gasps, and far too soon my climax was approaching.
“Yes, fuck, yes!”
He must have heard something in those words, the bastard, because he thrust in, balls to my ass, and stopped.
I opened my eyes. He loomed above me, sweat glistening on his skin, his pupils as blown as I imagined mine were, his nostrils flaring with every heavy breath. But all of that faded with the need teetering in my balls. Another thrust and I’d come in an explosion between us.
Still, he stared down at me.
“Move,” I begged, my voice little more than a whine.
He licked his lips, his gaze tracking to my mouth and then up again. For a moment, I didn’t think he was going to reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard me over our breathing. He leaned down—the slight shift inside me sending electricity over my nerves—and kissed me. Warm and soft. His words were barely a whisper. “I wish this could never end.”
Sweet words. I shuddered in pleasure, clamping down on where our bodies joined. “It doesn’t end. It’s just waves on the shore. Sometimes it’s high tide.” I had no idea what I was saying, but I needed him to move and begging hadn’t worked. “Please give me high tide.”
“Jesus.” He kissed me again, this time deep and dirty, his tongue exploring every inch that it could. He yanked his hips back and slammed forward, setting a b
rutal pace that lit every nerve in ecstasy.
My climax washed over me like those waves I’d spoken about, not drowning me but leaving me gasping for air as I shook with the force of it. I was always sensitive when I came without a hand on my cock, and as he continued thrusting with a new urgency, I nearly hummed with too much.
Right when I was about to vibrate apart with the discomfort, he pulled out. He rocked his weight onto one arm, and his face twisted in torturous need as he jerked himself off. His orgasm plastered ridiculous expressions across his face. But it didn’t make me want to laugh. It made me pull him close and kiss him—his chin, his lips, his cheeks—as he gasped and twitched. With a final shudder, he collapsed in a sated pile, mostly to the side, but with one leg slung over me.
We lay there, wordless and sweaty and breathing heavily.
“Wow.” All the teasing words from earlier had been fucked out of me.
His leg tightened around me, drawing me closer. His arm joined in securing me against his chest. I didn’t resist. I lay there, my legs pudding. Eventually I turned my head and saw the same goofy smile on his lips as I felt on mine.
“Wow,” I repeated.
“Wow,” he agreed.
We stayed there, cuddling under the blankets, until our strength returned. I mostly wanted to fall back to sleep, like any good fuck made me want to do, but it was morning and we had to get out of bed at some point. Eating was a thing, after all.
That didn’t mean we couldn’t have a leisurely breakfast followed by a not-so-quick shower together, though. There was nothing quite like the feeling of water pouring over me as I was on my knees, giving a blowjob for all my worth before the warm water ran out.
I couldn’t remember ever having a better start to the new year.
Dating Logan was amazing. Really, what wasn’t there to like? He was hot as fuck, sweet as candy, and funny as hell. After a month and a half, the initial heart-fluttering infatuation was starting to wear off, but I also got to see the real him more and more. Cute things, like the snuffling snore noises he sometimes made right before he woke up. And not-so-cute things, like when work ate up all his time.
Hard Truths Page 6