by J. M. Madden
Reaching down he tucked the boxer elastic beneath his balls, releasing his aching dick. Then he pushed up into her, relying on the panties to keep them apart. Theoretically it would excite her more, teasing her like this, but she already felt soaked. “I...”
She reached down, jerking the gusset of her panties to the side, and before he could change his trajectory, she pulled him into her. “Oh, fuck...”
He paused for a moment, shaking, feeling how his body felt inside the grip of a woman’s body. “Give me just a second,” he whispered. It didn’t feel like it used to, years ago, but he’d expected it to be different. The heat was still there, and the pressure, but the sensation on the lower part of his dick seemed a little muffled. He withdrew his length, then surged forward again, losing himself in the sensation.
A tiny little part of his brain reminded him that they needed a condom, but the more visceral, instinctual part of his brain was urging him to feel and enjoy every second he could without the added barrier. The added layer might be what kept him from his pleasure.
Marigold sighed and shivered beneath him, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. They were dreamy with need, and Logan had to take a split second to realize that he never expected to see that look in a woman’s eyes again. Her mouth sought his and he kissed her like he’d never kissed anyone before, trying to let her know what he felt.
“Oh, Logan,” she breathed, arching her body up into his.
He tried to stay under control, he really did, but it had been so long since he’d done this. Reaching down, he lifted her thighs up over his hips, changing the angle. Marigold made this odd sound in her throat, a cross between a moan and a gasp. “Oh, my god, Logan. Oh...” she breathed, nipping at his earlobe. “Condom,” she hissed, pushing at his shoulders.
It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, stopping the rolling momentum in his body, but he did it. Bracing himself above her, he withdrew, panting, and let her scramble out from underneath him. He watched with slitted eyes as she circled the bed and ripped open the drawer of her bedside table. She held up the little foil square triumphantly, and tossed it to him as she bent over to shuck off her panties.
Logan struggled to move, but he managed to get the condom rolled on tight as Marigold returned, completely nude. She’d gotten rid of the t-shirt and panties and he could see her body completely naked for the first time. It staggered him. And humbled him. Thrilled him. In the morning light her skin almost glowed, very fair, with rosy pink highlights. The tips of her nipples and her lips were almost the same deep salmon pink, and he could only think of tasting her again. She was completely bare of pubic hair and he wanted to explore her body there.
Her strong thighs flexed as she crawled onto the bed toward him, and her eyes narrowed teasingly.
“You take my breath away,” he admitted, cupping her face in his hands and giving her an open-mouthed kiss.
Marigold sighed and melted into him, her sweet tongue gliding along his. With a bounce, they moved back into position and she guided his cock deep, rocking her hips up toward him. Logan lost himself in the ride, pushing and grinding the way he needed to to find that euphoria he hadn’t had for so long. Masturbation was fine, but there was nothing better than being balls deep inside a woman.
Marigold began to pant against his neck, her teeth nibbling the skin. “Do you know how good you feel inside me,” she whispered. “You’re going to make me come. Right there, Logan, right there...”
Logan maintained the pace with iron determination, needing her to find her release so that he could, but it got incrementally harder as he felt her unraveling beneath him. Her body loosened even more and her pants grew more excited. Just as he was worried he was going to come before her, she screamed out, her head arching back on the pillow and her body jerking with hard convulsive shudders.
Then his own release hit. Unable to muffle a groan, his body went supernova with one of the hardest climaxes he’d ever experienced. Logan arched back, his legs digging into the mattress as he tried to get deeper than was physically possible. One moment he was kissing Marigold, then the next his head was buried in the pillow beside her and he was trying to drag in oxygen, his arms braced around her. Had he passed out? His body still contracted and rolled with light aftershocks.
Her strong arms held him tight, breast to chest, and she was whispering something into his hair. Gathering his strength, he lifted his head to look at her.
There was a smile on her face and a look in her eyes that told him he’d done a damned good job. “Are you okay?” he growled.
She nodded, grinning. Her legs were still up around his hips. Reaching down, she dragged the covers up over his shoulders. At some point they’d pushed them away. He appreciated the warmth immediately, though he knew he should move. Shifting, he readied to pull away, but she held him tight.
“Just stay here for a minute, please,” she whispered.
Logan was more than happy to stay. He planted his head against the pillow again. “Just tell me when you need to breathe.”
“I don’t think I ever want you to go. Damn, dude...”
Logan grinned and had to pick his head up to look down at her. Anxiety churned. “You enjoyed yourself?”
She tightened her brows. “Um, yeah... I have a feeling Nancy heard that scream downstairs. Maybe she didn’t hear it over The Price is Right. Do you realize you are ribbed for her pleasure?”
“What?” he asked incredulously, not sure he’d heard her correctly.
“Those scars seem to muffle your pleasure a little, but I’ll have you know they do just fine for me.”
She blinked her stunning green eyes up at him and grinned, and Logan couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Ribbed for her pleasure, huh?”
A wicked light entered her eyes. “Yeah, like the condom commercials, you know?”
Logan laughed, rolling to the side, but he kept eye contact. “Not sure what to make of that, exactly.”
“Take it for the compliment that it is,” she said, giving him a smacking kiss. “I’m going to go take a shower. You’re welcome to join me.”
She rolled out of bed with no modesty whatsoever and headed toward the bathroom. Marigold Lee had such a beautiful shape.
“What sports did you play in school?” he asked, following her.
Marigold glanced over her shoulder as she turned on the faucet, grinning. “How do you know I played anything?”
“You’re strong, solid. I’m thinking, softball.”
She laughed softly, turning back to test the water temp. “And you’d be right. My grandpa coached, actually, and I played my entire high school career. I have a small scholarship I’m using for school, even, for going to state for a couple of years.”
Logan nodded, gratified that he’d called it. “That’s awesome. You have a beautiful body.”
Brows lifted, she kissed him again before she stepped into the steaming shower. “Thank you. I think you do, too. Are you joining me?”
Logan stepped in behind her in the stall and slid the glass door shut. It was so strange to imagine anyone thinking of him as anything other than hideous or deformed, like he saw himself every day in the mirror. He’d gotten used to it, but it didn’t please him. The thought that anything about his body could please anyone was... intriguing? No, confounding. Because it was so opposite of how he had viewed himself for so long.
Marigold turned, tipping her head back into the water and wetting down her hair. Then she nudged at him to switch places with her. Logan moved under the hot water and reached for the bottle of shower gel. “Do you have anything that won’t make me smell like a damn fruit basket?”
Marigold was lathering shampoo into her hair. She grinned at him, and giggled. “Nope.”
Scowling, he squirted a dollop into his hand. When he got a whiff of the stuff, though, he wasn’t too upset. It smelled like Marigold. He could definitely tolerate that.
Marigold had a new appreciation for Logan. She’d felt the mu
scles beneath the clothing, but she hadn’t imagined, for some reason, that he would be this muscular. And that was her mistake. Maybe, because she knew he’d been burned, she’d expected him to look weak or something, but he really didn’t. The scars wound around his right side, but it wasn’t a sheet of scars. It was very patchwork, with some smooth skin interspersed with the damaged. She could only assume it was like that because of the way he was burnt.
He hadn’t moved like a man in pain this morning. “I’m glad I didn’t wear you out or hurt you too much last night.”
“Me too. Although I don’t think this morning could have gone any other way. I don’t think any amount of pain would have kept me from having you.”
Warmth flushed through her, and it wasn’t because of the hot water. It was suddenly very hard to breathe. She had promised him that there would be no commitment, but she’d known as soon as she’d uttered the words that she was lying, at the very least to herself. As soon as he’d walked in the door she’d felt something, some connection to him. And it was only getting stronger.
Logan gripped her arm and turned her back to him, pulling her flush against him. Then he began to rinse her hair. Marigold tipped her head back, loving the feel of his fingers against her scalp. “That’s really nice,” she murmured.
And when he was done with her hair, she turned him to wash his back and down his flanks. Then she turned him and lathered his chest. He watched her, his blue-green eyes narrowed as if he was trying to understand her. Then she went lower, lathering his cock and balls, and an entirely different light entered his eyes. He began to harden, and a smile eased across his lips, but Marigold turned away. “Later. You promised me lunch.”
And just that quickly the mood shifted. Logan’s smile faded and he leaned in to rinse again. “You’re right. We have things to do.”
Within just a little while they got out of the shower and dressed. “I need to run down and change my clothes, at least. Meet you in the kitchen in about twenty?”
“Sounds good,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his lips. Anxiety was already lining his lean face. “Hey, this is just lunch. More than likely you’re not even going to see any of your family. And if you do, I don’t think they’ll recognize you. It’s been more than twenty years.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said distractedly. “Meet you in a few.”
And he was heading out the landing and down the stairs to his own apartment.
Marigold took a moment to just sit and think about the night, as well as the morning. Logan was a good guy, she could tell that much, and she really hoped his family lived up to what she thought his expectations of them were. If not, she and the LNF group would be there for him.
15
El Toro Arvada was a beautiful, well-kept restaurant on the north-west side of Denver. The parking lot was freshly paved and very full for the lunch rush, which was encouraging. Marigold had to park out, almost to the street.
Logan looked around the area, seeing the attention that had obviously been put into caring for this business. The landscaping was immaculate, and the food must be good considering how packed it was. There was a scent wafting from the building that was making his stomach rumble.
“It’s a nice looking restaurant,” Marigold murmured, turning off the ignition. “The sign says family-owned for forty years.”
Yeah, he’d seen that as well. He looked at the windows of the building, seeing people moving around. It was bright and beautiful outside right now, everything buttoned up for the winter, but there were large red umbrellas on the patio, like they’d started getting them out of storage and ready for the summer.
Logan didn’t know how to feel at that moment. Anxiety churned in his gut, tempered only by the fact that Marigold was beside him.
“Mari, thank you for coming with me. I apologize now if I do anything wrong.”
She smiled at the shortening of her name and reached out to rest a hand on his forearm. “If you need to go, we’ll go. Just say the word.”
“I will,” he agreed. Pushing the car door open, he planted his crutches and levered himself up out of the car.
Mari led the way up a few steps and she held a big wooden door open for him. Inside, a hostess greeted them with a brilliant smile. “Just two today? Would you like a booth or a table?”
Logan looked through the restaurant. “A booth, please.”
“Right this way,” the young woman said, and started to lead them through the tables. Logan took the seat that faced the main entrance of the restaurant. There was a hallway behind him, which he didn’t like, but he wasn’t going to draw attention to himself by moving. He glanced around the space.
El Toro was a typical looking Mexican restaurant, with brightly painted tables and interiors. It wasn’t as hokey as some Mexican restaurants he’d seen. There was something classy and almost antique to the place. It was obvious they’d been here a long time.
A young man with dark hair and pretty, dark blue eyes brought them a basket of tortilla chips and a chunky salsa. “What can I get you to drink?”
Mari looked between Logan and the waiter, and he suddenly realized the problem. There was a bit of a resemblance, scars aside. Dark haired, blue eyed, fairly muscular and handsome. Not Hispanic looking necessarily, but there were some aspects there. It was like they had a common Hispanic ancestor from generations ago.
“Margarita. Actually, make it a pitcher, please.”
“Will do,” the young man said, smiling brightly. “My name is Michael and it will be my pleasure to serve you today.”
Mari watched him disappear into the depths of the restaurant, then she glanced back at Logan. She covered his hand with her own, and he knew she was trying to ease some of the tension away. “We’re just getting some lunch,” she murmured. “No commitment. There may be no one here to talk to anyway.”
Yeah, she was probably right.
The young man returned with a pitcher brimming with lime margarita. “Do you know what you’d like to order?”
Logan flipped open his menu. It had been sitting untouched since they’d taken their seats. “I’ll do your lunch special with a side of guac. And can we do a queso for the table?”
The waiter nodded. “Absolutely. And for you ma’am?”
“Same. And an ice water, too, please.”
The young man collected their menus. “Back in just a few minutes,” he promised.
And he was, as promised, bringing her ice water and their queso. “If I forget anything, please wave me down. We’re pretty busy right now and things slip through here and there.”
“Will do,” Logan promised, reaching for his margarita.
“Seems like a nice kid,” Marigold murmured, lifting her glass. “Oh, man, this is a good drink.”
Though it was a little early in the day, they both enjoyed the margarita. They were halfway through the glass when an older woman brought their food out. Logan looked up at the older woman and froze, knowing that his plans had just gone to hell.
It was her. His grandmother. He knew it in his bones.
The woman was smiling as she set the steaming plates in front of first Marigold, then Logan. “These are very hot,” she warned them. “Don’t burn yourselves...”
Her voice drifted away as she looked at Logan, and her professional smile faltered. She blinked several times, then seemed to shake herself. She clasped her hands in front of herself and renewed her smile, though it seemed brittle now. “Enjoy!”
He turned his head to watch the woman go, feeling like his life had just changed. Proof of his ancestry was standing across the room, smoothing her graying hair and talking to a younger woman.
“What, Logan? Did you recognize her?”
Nodding, he looked down at the steaming plate, his throat tight. “I think that was my grandmother.”
Logan ate the food but didn’t really think about it. He was too aware of being under scrutiny.
“So, are you going to talk to them?” M
arigold asked softly.
Logan looked up into her green eyes with the tiny shatter of gold, and he was suddenly struck by the fact that she was there with him. She wore her glasses today, and just a touch of makeup, not that she needed it. The woman was beautiful, and healthy and strong. He had no idea why she was interested in tagging along with an injured vet, but he appreciated it nonetheless. No, not appreciated it. He was a little flummoxed by the entire situation. She was a good distraction though. She kept him from feeling the anxiety that was creeping in around his consciousness. Or maybe she just tempered it.
“I think I need to,” he said softly.
They were almost done with their meal when the older woman approached them again. Her eyes darted nervously between them, but they lingered on him. “How was your meal?”
“It was wonderful,” Logan told her, though he hadn’t tasted anything.
“It was nice and spicy,” Marigold told the woman. “So many Mexican restaurants don’t use enough spice.”
The older woman finally turned and looked at her. “Yes, I agree. My husband and I wanted our food to be memorable. It was very important to us when we started the business years ago. The food is as I remember it as a girl cooking with my abuela.” She looked back at Logan. “I don’t mean to seem forward, but do I know you? You seem very familiar to me. And, you look...well,” she reached into her pocket and withdrew her phone. She swiped through a few screens, then held it out to him.
Logan took the phone from her and looked down at an old picture, which appeared to have been taken in the seventies. There was a gentleman in the picture that could have been his twin, but he knew it was probably his grandfather.
Logan showed the picture to Marigold, and she nodded her head at him. Eventually, he looked up at the woman. “I think this is my grandfather. My name is Logan Vance.”
The woman almost crumpled before their eyes. “Logan? No...”