He copped feels, took bites, licked tastes as he let me at the same time he tore at mine.

We fell to the bed, him only in jeans, belt, and first two buttons on his fly undone, me in nothing but panties and a bra.

The second we hit mattress, I went after him.

God, I couldn’t get enough.

The feel of his chest hair against my lips, his nipples tightening against my tongue, the ridges of his abs contracting at my touch.

He had new tattoos, several of them, and I wanted to discover them in a variety of ways.

But at that moment, other things took precedence.

In no time, I needed more of those particular things and went for it, fingers to the final buttons of his fly.

“Fuck no,” he rumbled, his hand catching my wrist and my eyes flew to him. “This time I get to eat.”

Ripples shot over my thighs.

I wanted that.

But I needed what I was going after.

“Me first,” I returned.

“No way,” he shot back.

“Way,” I snapped.

He used his hand at my wrist to lift it, then when I locked my arm, he shoved it, successfully taking me to my back.

Before he could move over and pin me, I planted a foot in the bed and heaved, putting all my weight and strength into it, rolling him to his back with me on top.

He began to buck his powerful body to roll me again, something he’d achieve if I didn’t stop it, so I shot up, straddling him and clamping my thighs to his hips.

He angled up with me, catching both my wrists and rolling his hips, pushing up farther, until he made his knees.

“Fuck,” I hissed, grappling against his fingers wrapped around my wrists, catching his triumphant, hot-as-hell grin as he fell forward.

I hit the bed on my back with him on me, his hips between my legs and my head dangling off the end of the bed.

With his superior strength, he forced my hands to the bed at my shoulders as his lips hit my neck.

“Stop fighting it,” he murmured.

Then he ran his tongue along my jugular.

So nice.

“Kiss off,” I spat.

I heard and felt his chuckle.

So nice.

“God!” I snapped.

Logan nipped my collarbone, hands still holding my wrists to the bed.

I pushed against them, bucking my lower body, succeeding only in lifting us both off the bed an inch until his weight bearing mine down forced me to give up and we collapsed back to the mattress.

He slid his lips (and tongue) down my chest.

Destination: breast.

Knowing that, my body wanted to still, quit fighting, feel Logan’s mouth on me again like that. He was good at that. He’d given me a lot of that back in the day because he liked it but more, because I loved it.

The problem with that was, I couldn’t quit fighting and not only because something I didn’t get was at stake and whatever that was, I couldn’t lose.

But because this whole thing was a massive turn-on.

Unable to fight him any other way, I demanded, “My bra stays on.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, necessarily his hands having to move down as his body did, but they took mine with them.

Then I felt him nudge my nipple with his lips.

That was when I stilled.

“Oh yeah,” he whispered, feeling it, hunger and victory in his tone.

I forced another buck, but that one was feeble.

I wanted his mouth on me.

I felt his tongue lap my nipple through my bra.

Yes.

I made a soft noise in my throat.

“Fuck yeah,” he growled, and went in, sucking my nipple into his mouth over my bra.

That was when I arched, unintentionally (or perhaps not) forcing it in farther and he sucked harder.

“Logan,” I moaned.

He let my hands go and shoved his under me, pushing up so I was compelled to remain arched, offering my chest to him.

I didn’t fight it.

I drove my fingers into his hair.

He took one hand from around me and used it to pull down my bra.

And he had me, nothing in between.

“Logan,” I gasped.

He went at me and kept doing it until I had fingers clutched in his hair. Then he moved to the other nipple and kept at me until I was squirming.

When he had me that way, he let go and lifted away.

I raised my head from where it was dangling off the end of the mattress and looked into his heated face right before he clamped his hands on my hips and dragged me down the bed so my head was no longer hanging.

Then, watching my face, he hauled my panties down my legs.

I closed my eyes in happy anticipation.

Logan opened my thighs.

He positioned in between and I tensed, waiting, ready, so fucking ready.

“Want it?” he asked.

God, he was going to make me say it.

Whatever.

Who cared?

I did want it and I’d get it, so what did it matter?

“Yes,” I breathed.

He dragged his tongue through my pulsing wet.

Oh yes.

“More?” he asked.

God, this was hot.

“Yes, Logan,” I whispered.

He lapped at me.

Yes.

“More, baby?” he asked.

Hot.

“Yes, Logan. Please,” I begged.

He dipped in and went at me.

I lifted my knees, spread my legs wide, drove my pussy into his mouth and gloried in it.

He took his mouth from me, nipped my inner thigh with his teeth, and asked warningly, “Where should your legs be?”

So.

So.

So.

Hot.

I shifted them over his shoulders where he liked them so he could feel from the tension in my legs, my heels digging in his back, how much I liked what he was doing to me.

He cupped my ass, murmured, “Damn straight,” pulled me to him, and went back in.

That time, he didn’t stop.

He ate and he licked and he sucked and he darted his tongue inside until it built so high, it scared me.

“No more,” I begged, squirming under him like I was trying to get away at the same time push closer.

“Take it,” he growled into my pussy, and kept at me.

I slid my fingers into his hair. “Baby,” I whispered, the word trembling as my body did the same, top to toe.

He latched on to my clit with his mouth, dragged his tongue tight over it, then sucked hard.

I was right.

Too much.

And perfect.

I dug my heels into his back, fisted my fingers in his hair, and exploded on a sharp cry that rang through the room.

He kept sucking and I kept flying.

He added fingers, driving them inside and my cries came again but softer, in pants, my heels plowing into his back, my head twisted to the side, my hand clutching his hair.

Then he stopped and I desperately drew in air, gathering up the pieces to pull myself together only to lose hold as his cock slammed deep.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” he rumbled, his hand going into my hair to force me to do as told.

I caught his fired eyes, took his thick, hard cock, panting and whimpering as he fucked me.

“What you want?” he asked roughly.

“More,” I forced out through harsh breaths.

He kept thrusting, hitching a knee to put more power into it, holding me in place with his hand in my hair, his weight on me, and I put a foot to the bed to plant myself to take him at the same time I wrapped my other leg around his thigh to anchor myself to him.

I began gasping.

“What you want?” he repeated, and it sounded like a groan.

It took a lot but I managed a breathless, “Harder.”

His hips drove into mine and it was so beautiful, my eyes shut so I could focus on nothing but the feeling of Logan and me connecting, deep, brutal, driven.

“You kiss me before you come, Millie,” he ordered, his voice so rough, it scored my skin like sandpaper.

And I fucking loved it.

“I—” I gasped, forcing my eyes open and looking into his, seeing it was close for him, too, feeling him getting closer, this taking me over the edge. “Okay,” I breathed, lifted my head, and pressed my mouth to his.