Page 119 of Unspoken

"We must," Logan acknowledges.

Our eyes are locked into an intense, heated gaze as if we are reading one another's thoughts and then our hands begin to move frantically as we work to undress each other. With some effort, I manage to shrug off Logan's jacket, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. He returns the favor, removing mine and adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothing.

"Let's get these off you," Logan growls, hooking his fingers around the waistband of my pants and boxers. "They look great but we don’t need them right now." I have to stand up for a second to help him tug them down. After kicking them aside, I straddle him again. My shirt is still on when Logan grabs a handful of my ass and pushes me against his thighs. My cock meets the bulge underneath his trousers and I moan at the sensation. It’s his calloused skin on me, the fabric of his shirt—still on—tickle my belly, the heavy breathing, the manly smell of musk, the ink I glimpse when I look at him. It’s all the things together, the touch, the imagery, the warm pulsing sensation in my chest, spreading all over my body.

I grind myself against him, savoring the hardness of his dick pressing against me through the layers of fabric still separating us.

"I need to feel you inside me," I whisper, punctuating my words with another feverish kiss. My fingers make quick work of the remaining obstacles—the zipper of his trousers, the boxers. I even find time to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Then I draw back and take a moment to drink in the sight of him in all his semi-naked glory–toned muscles, tattooed skin, and an erection that has my own erection throbbing in response.

"Come here," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

I obey willingly, eager to feel every part of him against me as he cups the back of my head with one hand, his other still on my ass.

"Take my cock, baby," he whispers, drawing my face so close to his, I can feel his breath dancing against my cheeks. I do as he says, wrap my hand around his dick.

"Can't get enough of me, can you?" I tease him, giving his length a few light strokes.

"Never," he growls, his head falling back on the leather.

"Good thing I came prepared then." I instruct Logan to open a compartment to his left and reveal a small bottle of lube I had stashed there earlier.

His eyebrows rise in amusement. "Planning on seducing me, were you?" Logan asks, a playful edge to his tone.

"Seems like it worked," I reply cheekily. "Now, help me out here."

He takes the lube from me and coats his fingers before pressing one gently against my entrance, seeking permission. I nod, swallowing the sudden nervousness that bubbles up. As his finger slips inside, I focus on relaxing, adjusting to the sensation–the stretch, the fullness, the intimacy, the possession.

"Ready for more?" Logan asks softly.

"Always," I breathe out, lifting myself up to help him a little.

He positions himself at my entrance, and I feel the head of his cock nudging against me. With a deep breath, I begin to lower myself onto him, wincing slightly at the initial pain of the stretch. But as I push past it, the discomfort gives way to a wave of pleasure that leaves me shattered.

"Bloody hell, you feel amazing," I gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Sasha... so tight and so beautiful," Logan grits out, both hands gripping my ass almost painfully as he helps guide my movements. "My sweet boy."

Slowly, I slip up and down his cock, looking for that one angle that always makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

And as I ride him, I can't help but marvel at how perfectly we fit together–our bodies, our desires, our brokenness. For the first time in my life, I feel truly seen, truly known, and it's both terrifying and mind-blowing.

The heat between us intensifies as I become more accustomed to the feeling of Logan inside me. It’s familiar now, like I’ve been doing this since the beginning of time. A heady mix of pleasure and pain that leaves me in pieces at first and then puts me together.

"Logan, oh fuck," I gasp as I grind down onto him, taking him in deeper with each thrust. "Oh fuck…" I start losing words, losing the sense of myself.

"God, Sasha." He moans in response, his own hands move to grip my waist tightly as he helps to guide us toward the climax. "You feel so fucking good around me."

"I'm close," I manage to choke out. "I’m close,moi milyi."

"Me too, baby." Breathing heavy and ragged, he reaches out to grasp my erection, stroking it in time with our frenzied pace. The added stimulation brings me to that precious edge of release.

"Come with me," he urges, his request accompanied by a guttural groan as he gives one final thrust, sending us both spiraling over the brink of reality and into the sweet nirvana.

My climax crashes at me like a wave, the intense pleasure washing over every inch of my body as I spurt hotly onto Logan's chest and chin. At the same time, I can feel him emptying himself inside me, filling me with his warmth as our bodies tremble together in the aftershocks of our shared release.

"Jesus Christ," I choke out, a shaky laugh escaping my lips as I survey the mess we've made. "That was... fantastic."

"Understatement of the century," Logan agrees, his own laughter blending with mine as we clumsily clean ourselves up, using almost the entire box of tissues from the mini-bar.

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