by K. L. Savage
“I’m going to say one thing and one thing only before I kiss you and strip you naked, Juliette,” Logan warns, brushing his lips over my cheek. My entire body feels the slight brush of the mouth I’ve gotten myself off to. My breath hitches, and I wait for him to finish what he’s going to say as his hands cup my face. The callouses scratch the surface of my skin, and my lips part from how good it feels. “I don’t know how to feel for anything that’s good for me,” he admits, sliding his lips down the sensitive flesh below my ear.
“Maybe I’m not good for you,” I counter as my head lulls back on my shoulders, giving him access to my neck.
“Oh, I know you aren’t.” His voice deepens, and one of his hands wraps around my neck. “You’re going to get me killed, and while the outcome is bad, I have a feeling the journey is going to feel good.”
I don’t know what he means when he says I can get him killed, but I’m not able to think of that for much longer when his lips land on mine. My ability to process any thought fly out the window. The hairs on his beard scratch my upper lip when he changes the angle of his head and pulls me tighter to his body.
His lips promise something dangerous as they take my mouth in a possessive drive. His tongue dances against mine, twirling and dipping inside my mouth with expertise. He groans down my throat, and I reply in a quiet whimper, fisting his shirt in my hands. Logan presses his hips against mine, and that’s when I feel his hard cock pressing against my thigh.
He is huge. Everything I knew he would be. It only makes sense, since the rest of him is so big.
My lips are numb and tingling when he pulls away and lays his forehead on mine. “You feel…” He says it in a way like he can’t believe his own feelings.
“Good,” I finish for him. “You feel good.” I swallow to dislodge the lump in my throat. This isn’t a good idea. There isn’t a future here, but I think we both know that.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Good.”
The word is spoken with such uncertainty and a little distaste. I can’t figure out if that means he likes it or not.
I’m about to pull away when he grabs the back of my head and smashes his lips against mine. It’s forceful this time, aggressive, like he’s getting to taste something he will never get to have again. He pushes me down on the bed, causing Tyrant to jump off. I look up at him in a glossy daze, enjoying the arousal through my body.
There’s no one here to stop us or interrupt, which has me wondering if this will end sooner rather than later because my dad always has someone come by every day. He shrugs off his leather cut and then, in a sexy move, he reaches behind his head and grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it off.
Showing lines of hard muscle and tattoos. Logan’s body is the most of a man I have ever seen, and I have a feeling he’s more man than the ones I’ve ever met.
9
TOOL
What the hell am I doing putting my dirty hands all over this beautiful sparrow? I’m insane. I’m out of my mind, but I have to admit, it feels so… I hate to say the word, but I feel fucking good. I know it will all come crashing down because that’s life; that’s what happens when things are good. They go bad in a blink of a damn eye.
And it’s only a matter of time before she hates me too. I came here looking for … I don’t know what. After Pirate told me she was at the clubhouse looking for me, after I just got done burying one of my brothers, being around her sounded all too good.
Now I’m here, and she makes the bad inside me bury itself instead of letting it stay on the surface. She pulls the good out of me, and I want to be that for her, I do, but I’m far from it.
I’ve killed.
I’ve tortured.
I’ve enjoyed some of it, most of it, but how can hands like mine appreciate something so beautiful, when all they have done is seen evil?
“You’re gorgeous,” she says whispers as she trails her hands from my neck, down the middle of my chest and stomach. She isn’t rushed while appreciating me.
I snag my hand around her wrist, stopping her from touching me like she’s never touched a man before. I don’t want to be appreciated. I don’t deserve it.
“What is it?” she asks in a smooth rasp that has my cock pressing against my zipper. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” I shake my head. How can I say that no one has ever touched me like that before? All the women I’ve been with have always been a quick fuck, in and out, that’s it. No one has ever touched me with delicacy like that, like if she presses too hard, I’ll break. I fall forward and catch myself on my hands as I cage her in, hovering over her succulent body. She licks her lips, plump and natural, not full of fake injections like a lot of women. They’re so soft, and a small dimple creases her bottom lip from the flesh being so big.
I suck it into my mouth, nibble on it, and let it go with a pop. She moans and it’s harmonic, like a damn song, and I’m drawn in. She’s a siren, singing to lure her victims in before she makes the kill.
Her hands might not be the death of me, but somehow she’ll still be the cause of it.
Taking her mouth again, I lower my body onto hers and let my hands fall between her knees and lift her dress slowly. I tear my lips away from hers, not wanting to miss the first time I get to see her body. The pink dress has her skin looking flawless, like glass, as if maybe she’s the delicate one.
Slowly, her thighs come to view, and my hands grip the flesh. I can’t stop the groan that takes over. I’m consumed by her body. Every fucking inch of her. She has to be made for me and my touch because there’s no way a woman who looks like this doesn’t exist for me and only me.
Her blue panties come to view, and a wet spot dampens in the gusset of them. The outline of her folds stick to the material, and my thumbs dive under the band near her groin. I bite my lip as I watch her writhe under me, a bright blush taking over her face while her hands grip the sheets.
So responsive.
My thumbs tease her lips, spreading them apart, and I hear the slurp of her juices sticking to her folds. I want down there. I want to taste her and ruin her for anyone else. She’ll be mine, even if it means ruining her good and bringing her down to my filthy level.
She’s soaked for me.
For. Me.
As much as I hate to, I leave her sweet cunt and lift her dress more. Her torso is next, and her waist is so small, a perfect dip where my hands belong, and that’s exactly where they go. A rumble grows in my chest as I grip her ribcage, imagining how it will feel when I’m fucking her and holding on to her like this.
My hands wander up the swell of her tits, and her back arches off the bed when I tug the dress over them, seeing the silk of her bra.
“Fuck me,” I say in appreciation, gripping the flesh firmly in my palms. So much of her tits spill from my fingers. So damn big. More for me to adore and lavish with my mouth. I can’t wait to mark them with little love bites.
“I’ve always been fuller,” she says and tries to cover herself with her arms, and I grab them, pinning her limbs to her sides.
“You won’t deny me, little sparrow. You’re fucking beautiful, and I want to see every fucking inch of you. I want to memorize every curve, every ridge, and I can’t wait to have my mouth full of your tits. You’re perfect.” I pull the dress the rest of the way off, and her face is hidden for a second.
“Logan?” She says my name with a bit of hesitancy. “I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” I kiss the curve of her left breast, moaning from how soft her skin is, and continue to adore the other side with the same attention. She smells so good, like that fucking mango scent that I love so much. I want to eat her like the fruit too, only I’ll never have to stop because this is never-ending helping of something delicious.
“I’ve never—”
The two words have my heart jackhammering when I lift my gaze from her tits to her face. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and her face is as red as a tomato. She
won’t look at me. “It isn’t because I don’t want to or because I’ve waited for a reason. I haven’t. My dad was too controlling—”
“Juliette.” I grip her chin and pull myself up until my face is hovering over hers. “Don’t talk about your dad when my cock is pressed against your thigh and mouth has kissed your tits.”
“Right.” She nods. “Right. Duh.” She pretends to smack herself in the head, but it’s harder than she intends, and she winces. “Ow, okay, I swear, I’m not a complete mess.”
“Juliette, tell me.” I know the words she’s about to say, and I’m nervous, but I’m thrilled, but I’m a bastard who doesn’t deserve her.
“I’ve never done any of this! I’m a virgin, but I don’t want to be, so let’s get on with it, okay? Come on.” She claws at my back to hurry things along, and it makes me smile; she’s nervous.
And she’s crazy if she thinks I want to get this over with or rush it. One thing is for certain, I’m not fucking her today. I’m not ready for that, and I don’t want to be the man she hates after she realizes I’m not good enough for her. I won’t be the guy who takes her virginity and then have her regret it.
I don’t want to be anyone’s regret. I’ve lived that already.
“Juliette, calm down.” I meet her eyes and can see that she’s panicking and afraid, but not of what’s happening between us, but because I might not want her now. “I love that,” I tell her and kiss her deeply, showing just how much I love that I’m her first and wish we could take it further than it’s about to go. “Relax, little sparrow. Let me make you feel good.” I kiss her lips once more and work my way down her neck, nipping the middle of her throat.
I reach behind her and unsnap her bra, tossing the damn contraption aside to revel large, round, perky breasts. I whimper in adoration as I knead them, loving the weight and feel of them in my palms. There’s nothing like a set of heavy breasts in a man’s hand. She wiggles against me, her pelvis rocking against my cock. The move makes a flood of pre-come leave my slit, and I grunt, gripping her hip with my hand to stop her movement.
I’m about to fucking come in my jeans, and I can’t let her see that she can get me off that fast. It isn’t good for a man to be able to come so fast. Usually I don’t because cut-sluts are easy, another hole just to fill the time, but Juliette isn’t like that; she’s different.
She’s the good I need.
And I can’t have.
I suck one nipple into my mouth, humming around the elongated bud and then bite down hard, causing her to cry out. Her hands grip the back of my head while digging her nails into my scalp. I’ve always been a man who loves a little pain with his pleasure. With a reluctant plop, I let go of the sweet morsel and lick down the middle of her body, dipping my tongue into her naval.
It’s when I get to her panties that she’s rubbing her thighs together and trying to push my head between her legs. I chuckle from her impatience and grab the thin panties and pull them free with a slight tug. They rip easily, and since I’m a collector of souvenirs, there’s nothing better to remember our time together than to keep them. I stuff them in my jeans pocket and push her legs apart until her pink center is winking at me.
She’s bare. All clean with no hair, and my cock grows harder. I rock against the mattress in dying fucking need of friction. “Such a pretty pussy, little sparrow. You’re such a good girl keeping it for me.” I blow cold air against her folds, and she shifts onto her elbows to get a better look at me.
“Logan—” she stutters when my tongue makes the first lick from the bottom of her cunt to the top, swirling the tip around her clit before sucking the bundle of nerves into my mouth. “Oh, god! Logan. Yes!” she moans, falling back onto the bed as I tongue fuck her. Her legs shake, and sweet cream sticks to my chin as the slick juices leave her virgin hole. My finger finds the untouched part of her and slides in, and the feel of her hot channel grasping me has my eyes rolling to the back of my head. She’s so tight, I can’t even fit another finger inside. I curl my digit up in a come-hither motion, pressing against a spot that will heighten her pleasure.
“What is that? Oh, fuck, so much better than any toy, Logan. Oh, yes!” She pinches her nipples and tugs, but my brows shoot to my hairline when I think of her playing with toys. I wonder what she has and if she’ll let me use them on her.
Her legs tense around my neck, squeezing me until I can’t breathe, but I don’t take my face away from her cunt; not when she’s so close. I can smell her orgasm from the nectar soaking my palm and the sheet beneath us.
I fuck her mouth the same way I fuck the bed now, hard and fast, needing her to get off, needing to get me off. Her taste is so good, I’m going to fucking come from it. There’s no stopping it. She tastes like the one thing I’ve been afraid of my entire life. And it’s so good, so right, so damn addicting that my heart is filling with hope.
I hate hope.
I hate good.
Hate is constant. Hate is natural. Hate is survival.
Not with her. Oh, it isn’t with her.
It’s opposite, and it’s overwhelming my body, my system, and rewiring everything I feel and believe.
She’s the refuge I’ve always wanted and never thought I’d have.
I pick her up by her thighs and dig my hands into her ass as I hold her in the air and feast on her sweet honeypot.
“Logan, Logan, Logan!” she chants as she falls apart in my arms and in my mouth, flooding my tongue with her sweet, savory sauce that I never want to leave my lips.
It’s the first time a woman calls me by my real name in bed, and it sends me over the edge, filling my jeans with sticky cum, and I don’t regret a thing. I groan into her pussy with pleasure and relief, never wanting this moment to end.
But like all good things…
10
JULIETTE
I woke up alone this morning with not so much as a note from Logan, only his scent. It ticks me off and saddens me at the same time that he left without word. He’s proving to be everything my father warned me about, and yet, I want more from Logan. Like an idiot.
I’m at work now, staring out the window of the lingerie store to see him and a few other of his club members working on the space he just bought. He hasn’t looked over at me once. Why? We didn’t have sex. It isn’t like he got what he wanted and left. If anything, I’m the one who ended up getting all the pleasure.
Every now and then, when my hair moves over my shoulders or drops in my face, the scent of pine and leather fills my nose. It hits my stomach like a deadweight or wrecking ball, reminding me of the best night I’ve ever had in my entire life only to be left feeling used.
I glance out the window again, hanging a black lingerie set on the gold rack and miss the notch. It falls to the floor, and I bend down and stay there for a minute to get my head together. I need to get him out of my head.
The image of his mouth sucking my clit comes to the forefront of my mind, and it takes my breath away. No man has ignited pleasure so quickly on my body like Logan has. One touch, a simple finger against a small part of my pleasure, and he sparks a raging wildfire, and the only way it can be tamed is if he puts it out himself.
“Are you going to stay down there all day? Do you want water? A drink? A pillow?” Trixie, the manager and my friend, teases me when she sits crossed legged next to me. “I see the appeal. It’s a bit cooler down here and darker since the sun is coming through the windows. You know, I still think I need to get them tinted.” She clicks her tongue then nods as if it’s the greatest idea she has ever thought of. “I think I’ll do that.” She claps her hands, and her long nails that are always painted a bright color—today they are neon pink—click together.
“What’s on your mind, Juliette?” she asks, lifting a tattooed brow at me. She’s a bit older, in her forties I think, but she acts like she’s twenty. The woman is young at heart, and she lets it show. It’s what I love so much about her.
I pick up the lingerie set and sta
nd, putting it on the hanger and shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mmmhmm, you can’t get nothing by me, girly. You’re sulking.”
“Am not,” I gasp.
“Are too.”
“Am not!” I defend myself and then laugh at how childish we sound. I roll my eyes and give in. “Fine. I’m sulking. Happy?” I take another set of lingerie out of the cardboard box, this one is pink with little ribbons lacing up the sides. It’s so cute, but no way will my boobs fit in this tiny thing. I grab a gold hanger and slide the straps through and make sure it looks pristine before setting it on the rack.
“Happy, girly,” Trixie tsks and spins me around by digging her talons in my arm. Those suckers hurt. “I don’t like to see you sulking; talk to me.”
I let out a weighted sigh and look out the window again. “See the man with his shirt off?”
Trixie giggles. “Girly, they all have their shirts off, and I must say, it’s a sight for sore eyes. My god.”
“Oh, you’re right. I didn’t notice they were all shirtless.” My eyes are zeroed in on Logan, and he still has that damn screwdriver over his ear. Why is he so attached to that thing? His tattoos shine in the sunlight, rolling with the flex of his muscles as he tosses chunks of wood in a dumpster. He’s renovating the old Italian restaurant across the strip, and that means he’s a handyman too. Perfect. He’s perfect. I want to hate him.
“Which one are you looking at, girly?” Trixie asks and then claps her hands in front of her again when she gets an idea. “Oh, wait. Let me guess…” She points to all of them, humming as she thinks, and a smile takes over my face at her antics. She’s crazy, but the good kind of crazy. “That one.” She points to Logan, and my mouth drops open when she guesses right.