Page 45 of Embattled Return

As if he heard her thoughts, he reached a hand between them, stroking her through her jeans as he tongued her nipple to the roof of his mouth, the edge of teeth on her skin. The orgasm hit her hard, sending her spinning through space. Marigold twitched and moaned, head rocked back on her shoulders as Logan held her, grinding against her.

* * *

If Loganever could have dreamed that her satisfaction would push him right to the edge of his own, he would have made sure to at least be undressed and in a bed. Fuck. As it was, he didn’t dare move. His body quivered, needing release. His dick was cranked behind the fly of his jeans and he needed to stretch out and release.

Logan watched Marigold open her dreamy green eyes. The look of satisfaction in her expression was so worth the pain in his screaming legs. At first, her weight had been okay, but the bouncing around had made him ache in a distracting way, completely counterpoint to the good ache in his dick.

“You,” she whispered. “Are dangerous. I’ve never come like that before, with a man sucking my breasts.”

Cupping her head in his hands, he brought her mouth to his own again, trying to feel the truth in her words. There was no doubt she came, so, he would have to trust her honor. Her tongue darted out, stroking against his own and sending another delicious thrill of need through him.

Then Mari was gone, shifting carefully off his lap. He watched as she grabbed a pillow from the couch, dropping it to the floor, then kicking it into position between his legs. It took Logan a moment to understand what she was doing and he sat up, trying to push her away.

“No, don’t...” he started.

“I know I don’t,” she said firmly, dropping to her knees on the pillow. “But I want to,” she grinned, reaching for the fly of his jeans.

Logan snatched at her hands. “Mari, listen to me. I’m not... there was damage.”

That stilled her hands and she glanced up at him. “Okay, well, we can go slow.”

Logan grimaced. “I’ve got burns over most of my lower half, and my dick wasn’t spared.”

“Okay. Does it still cause you pain?”

“No, not anymore. It’s just... there’s scar tissue.”

She lifted a brow at him. “And you expect me to stop because you don’t look right?”

It sounded a little ridiculous when she said it like that. With effort, he removed his hands, stretching them along the back of the couch. Then he curled them into fists.

It seemed like he had given so much recently, emotion-wise, that he was just kind of done. If she wanted to see his fucking dick, he’d let her, then, maybe he could retreat to his cold little world again. If she got him off, great. If not, he’d do it later. And the lines would be drawn.

Her fingers brushed against him again. While they’d been talking, he lost interest, a little, but within seconds he was hard again. What he hadn’t told her was that the scar tissue had a bit of a dampening effect on him. It took harder touches and strokes to get himself off. He hadn’t been with a woman since the ex, so he had no idea how his body would respond buried inside a wet woman.

The feel of her orgasming on top of him sent a fresh roll of heat down through his body. If he could have ripped those jeans off he would have, just to feel her body’s release. He had a feeling she was very wet, and the thought of sinking into that, into her, excited him.

She released the zipper on his jeans and spread the sides wide, exhaling loudly in the silence of the room. One of her hands flattened against his cock, then wrapped around him. He still wore his boxers, but the fabric was thin. Thin enough that he could feel the entire length of her hand against him, even over the scars on the lower side.

Marigold slipped her hand beneath the fabric of the boxers, fingertips finding his crown. Her touch danced lightly around it and he breathed through his nose, feeling her find the moistness at the tip. Her forefinger circled his head, spreading that wetness and teasing lightly.

Logan watched her face as she played. There was sensuality there, like she was actually enjoying what she was doing. Surely, she’d felt the scars when she’d flattened her hand against him...

Marigold leaned forward, bracing her arms over his thighs, in a way holding him still as she pulled the fabric away from his penis. Logan clenched his jaw and watched her, unblinking, as she surveyed the damage. As if sex wasn’t hard enough, he had to display his most private damage. She didn’t flinch, though. A softness entered her eyes as she flexed him up along his belly, looking at the worst damage. The crown and the top three inches, or there about, were fine. There was a strip up along the right side of his dick scarred as well, but it was narrow. It was only closer to his body where the burns were more pronounced, along the pipe beneath, circling around his shaft and up his belly, around his right hip and down his legs. His scrotum had been burnt as well, and when he’d been in the hospital, they’d very nearly removed it. One of the doctors thought it was salvageable, though, so they’d fought the infection with hard antibiotics.

“This had to have been so painful,” she murmured, leaning forward to press a line of kisses along his length, her tongue swirling around his head again.

“It was really painful when I’d get a hard-on, which you just can’t control sometimes,” he admitted.

“Hm,” she responded, lips spreading to wrap around his crown.

Logan suddenly couldn’t breathe as he watched her. It had been one of his greatest fears, not being able to have sex again. Since the injury, almost seven months now, he hadn’t had sex at all. He’d been too afraid to see revulsion in a woman’s eyes when she looked at him. Jacking off worked well enough.

Strong fingers wrapped around his shaft and Logan lost track of his thoughts. His orgasm had been forced back earlier, but he could feel it rising again. The foreignness of having a hand not his own on his flesh was enough to amp him up. The sight of her lips on his body... she licked him in twenty different ways, up and around, through the slit, finding exactly where he was most sensitive. Then she nibbled her way down his shaft, finding and caressing the scars like they were no different that the rest of him. The feeling here was different. In some places it was more sensitive, in others much less so, to the point that he barely felt her touching him at all because the nerves had been burned away.

Marigold understood the reactions of his body better than he did because she concentrated her attentions higher, around the tip of him, drawing him closer to that edge. Logan was amazed that she hadn’t run screaming from him, so he let himself relax a little. Looking down at her paying homage to his beat up dick, he let some of his closely guarded control go, again. It had been okay last time, so he would have to hope that it would be okay this time as well.

Marigold shifted on her knees, bringing her pretty breasts higher. She kind of wrapped the warm mounds around the base of his cock as she tongued him, and the graphic visual was too much for him. Yet not enough. The orgasm slammed into him, waves of pleasure making him arch up off the couch and deeper into her mouth. She pulled back enough for her hand to take over, pumping hard at the base, and he watched his release coat her breasts and fingers. Logan panted for breath, his body moving in ways it hadn’t for a long time. Marigold had found a level of pleasure for him that he hadn’t been able to himself.

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