Torn from You
Page 39

She was a little pissed now, and he couldn’t have that. She should know better. He stopped his thumb’s movement but kept his finger inside her, completely still. He let her make the mistake and move up against him, trying to get what she desperately needed. Fuck, it was like being handed a slice of heaven. He almost caved seeing her body move up and down on his finger, and if he hadn’t just had her in the shower he would’ve said fuck it and taken her.
“No moving.”
Her eyes flew open, and she stopped moving. There was that look of panic on her face, not from whether he’d hurt her, well ... a little ... but how he was going to make her scream. “I think you know the rules?”
Frozen, she gave him those begging eyes, and he wanted to eat her out for a goddamn two-week feast. Instead, he decided to eat her out and have her squirming into his mouth for mercy. And he’d let her scream, he decided. Just hearing her voice was going to make him come. Christ, little did she know that this was more torture for him than her.
“You’re going to need to beg.” His mouth twitched when he saw her eyes close briefly and her head sink further back into the pillow. Yeah, better lay back and relax, because he was taking his sweet ass time.
He kissed his way down her body, tongue tasting every inch of her delectable velvet skin until he reached her naked mound. Fuck, he loved that she kept herself shaved.
Her head moved back and forth as he took her in his mouth and sucked. Jesus, she tasted like paradise wrapped up in a bow. He groaned, the vibration making her shudder and her legs quiver. He pushed her legs up so her knees bent more.
“Wider.” That’s all he needed to say; she hadn’t forgotten. She parted her legs to the limit, and he moved in to start his feast, tongue rolling over her clit then sliding down into the wetness and back up again. He used his fingers to part her and sunk in deep, pushing his tongue up into her.
“Oh God, Logan. Stop.”
She wasn’t in pain. He could hear the pleasure in her voice. And if it pleased her, he would never stop. He ignored her pleas and swirled his tongue around her clit, feeling her tremble and her back arch up pushing herself further into his mouth. She was close. Fuck. He wanted her to come so he could swallow every inch of her.
“Please, honey. Please let me come.”
He couldn’t let that happen, not yet. He slipped his fingers into her and pumped hard and fast, but purposely avoided touching where she was burning for him to finish her off. Not yet.
“Eme, legs.” She was trying to close them, to find some sort of relief. “Open. Now.” She instantly obeyed hoping he’d give her a reward sooner. Not happening. He lived to see her writhe beneath him.
He moved up her body and heard her groan of frustration, but he wouldn’t let it deter him. She needed this just as much as he did. He stopped to circle his tongue around her nipples then continued upward until he was face-to-face to her half-lidded eyes.
“Let go, Emily.” He wanted her hands on him, touching him, setting him in flames like a fuckin’ city on fire. Her hands sunk into his hair, and he took her mouth, kissing her until she was gasping for breath. When he drew back, he saw the complete and utter submission, and if he wasn’t lying on the bed, he’d be on his goddamn knees. She did that to him.
“I’m making you come in my mouth. Then I’m fucking you until you come again.” He didn’t expect a reply; she could barely breathe by the way her chest was heaving beneath him.
By the time he reached her pussy, her hands were gripping tightly in his hair and her body was wiggling. He thought she’d come before he even reached his destination.
“Tilt for me.” When she pushed up with her pelvis and he stared down at that gleaming, naked pussy, he came a little bit, and it pissed him off. He was losing control, and fuck if that was happening. As his eyes roamed up her body to lock with hers; he knew that this woman could destroy him. He let go of his emotions to get her back; he never felt so vulnerable as he had in the last few weeks, but it was worth it.
He stared at her as she lay panting. “Logan?” It was a mix of begging and uncertainty.
“I love you, Emily. You don’t get to take that from me. Ever. No one does.” He saw her eyes light up with surprise, and then he went down on her and made her world spiral out of control, and fuck, did she scream.
When he entered her she was limp and pliable beneath him. “Legs.” He helped her slip them around his hips, and then he had his way ... Well, he always had his way, but it was all about her. Always. It was knowing what she needed and when. With her pleasure, came his. He went slow and took his time, building her up again until she was quivering then calling out his name as her body tensed and shook.
God, it was the most beautiful sight. Emily wrapped around him trembling, her lips against his, the sweet scent of her skin so close he tasted it. And when he released into her groaning her name, his hands interlocked with hers above their heads.
When Logan rolled over, he took her with him so her one leg was over top of his and her head was on his chest. He stroked her hair and closed his eyes, squeezing her to him.
“I’ve always loved you, Logan,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Eme, us ... We’re only broken when we’re apart.”
Chapter 26
I woke to my face snuggled into the crook of his neck, hand resting on his chest and my legs entwined with Logan’s. The scent of him with each breath had my insides quaking and my stomach dropping. It felt warm and safe and protective.
Logan. It was hard to fathom that I was in his bed. My body sore but still wanting more of him. I inhaled deep, and my nipples brushed up against him. He was intoxicating, and I didn’t want to get out of bed ever, but another need pushed me to get up.
I slowly tried to slip my legs out from under his and lift his arm that was slung over my waist. I’d made it a few inches before he moaned and, with one rough yank, pulled me closer.
“Not ready to get up,” he mumbled. “Kiss me good morning, baby.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Kiss me. And if it’s good, I’ll let you go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I stammered.
One of his eyes flicked open, and his brows rose. “I can lie in bed all day. How about you?”
“I have to pee, Logan.”
“Better kiss me quick then.”
“Fine.” I really did need to pee and arguing over this was only going to make it harder on me. Besides, I wanted to kiss him. Tilting my head up so my lips were on par with his, I leaned forward and kissed him. The second moisture connected to moisture, I shivered.
“Mmmm.” He rolled me over to my back and hovered above me.
I was breathing hard, my heart pounding and everything inside me pulsating as I met his eyes. He did that sexy half-grin, and his eyes were dancing.
“Are you good?”
I nodded. Too breathless for words. Afraid my voice would crack.
The weight of him felt so good, powerful and warm and ... and all Logan. He was my sweet. My popsicle and I was melting into him further and further. I still was uncertain for how long, but for now I was letting him in. I’d think about my plans to move out later; right now I felt as if I was finally healing, and I was grabbing hold while I could.
He groaned and backed off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Go pee. I’ll make coffee. Two creams, no sugar?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded then left, and I got up and went to the bathroom.
I came downstairs wearing my black breeches and pink T-shirt. I had tied my hair back in a low ponytail, and after contemplating how much makeup to put on for a good ten minutes, not wanting appear like I tried too hard, because despite what I tried to convince myself, I did want to look good for Logan.
I ended up with mascara and light pink lip gloss.
I padded into the kitchen and didn’t think he’d even heard me when he nodded toward the steaming coffee on the island. “Yours, Mouse.”
Walking toward it, I couldn’t help but eye his broad naked back as he flipped something in the frying pan. He reached up into the cupboard. There was a tat I’d noticed last night on the opposite side of his Tear Asunder tat. It was of a horse, rearing up, but it was broken like a heart cut in half. Jagged edges split it down the center. The edges matched perfectly or at least it appeared as they did. Between the two pieces of the horse was a guitar with its strings broken, and the intense, black lines looped around the horse’s neck.
“You hear me?”
I jerked. “Sorry?”
He half-turned toward me. “Toast, baby. Push it down for me. Eggs are nearly done.”
“Oh yeah. Sure.” I walked over to the counter and pushed the lever down, and the bread disappeared.
“You want orange juice or is coffee good?”
“Just coffee.”
He took the frying pan off the burner while I got the plates. He scooped a heaving amount onto both plates then set the pan in the sink and started the blender. He still did his protein shake.
I smiled as I went to the toaster just as the toast popped to a nice golden brown. Wasn’t often a toaster did its job to perfection. I quickly pulled them out and placed two pieces each on our plates then buttered them.
He looked relaxed working in the kitchen. It was sexy and ... Well, it was hot having a guy standing over the stove making eggs. If he grew up in the compound with Raul, he couldn’t have spent much time doing stuff like this. My guess, Raul had slaves to feed them.
I felt him come up next to me, and I looked up just as his hand settled on top of mine. “You’re drowning the bread.”
I looked down and laughed, noticing the gobs of butter on one piece of toast. “Oh.” I began scrapping it off when he stilled my movements. He leaned his back against the counter then swung me around so that I was up against him, butter knife in one hand and my other grabbing hold of his bicep.
“You’re cute when you’re distracted. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
He squeezed me. “Try again.”
“You’re comfortable here. The kitchen I mean.”
“Yeah, lots of practice.”
“Oh.” Huh.
“Just ask.”
I didn’t want to hurt him bringing up his childhood. He’d always been closed off about his life. Would he not want to tell me? Would he let me in?
“Eme.”
“Um, well you grew up with Raul. I just thought, that you ... I don’t know, you wouldn’t have learned to cook.”
His hands rubbed slowly up and down my arms. “I didn’t even see a kitchen there. Spent most my time training, but food was always available. I learned to cook after we escaped and came here. My mother was a ghost, barely spoke, just existed. It was like all the adrenaline and fight she had was to protect me and then to get us out; the trauma finally caught up to her, and she crashed. So, I looked after her. And I learned to cook.” Logan stopped stroking my arms, and I looked up into his eyes. “I grew up in a shit place with shittier people who had no morals or values. My mom tried to shield me from that. She fought hard against it so I wouldn’t get stained by it.