Page 69 of Unspoken

I do as he says, wrestle out of my tee, and toss it to the floor with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, to which Logan smiles softly.

"Good. Now we’re talking," he says, nudging me back down into the cushions of the couch.

I gasp softly as he traces the line of my collarbone with his tongue before dragging it down my chest. The feel of his mouth is intoxicating—like fresh air and dark, expensive whiskey I steal from Vlad’s office sometimes.

"Fuck..." I exhale as Logan brushes his lips over my nipple. "This is magnificent."

"Glad you approve." His voice is full of smug confidence, and I chuckle—until his mouth latches around my nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. I arch into his touch, head thrown back against the headrest. I had no idea how good this would feel—all these things done to my body.

Logan McKenna. My savior. My protector. My dark depraved desire.

He shifts lower, nuzzling against my stomach, his tongue gliding over my abdomen, and I moan louder, grabbing at his shoulders.

"Shh," he whispers against me where the waistband of my jeans meets my skin. "I’m driving this one, remember? Just relax."

Then he drags down my zipper and hooks his thumbs under the elastic of my boxers, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, eases them down my thighs.

"Are you ready to be blown…away?" he asks with a cheeky smile.

"Fuck you," I grouse good-naturedly, but his hands are there, warm and calloused, guiding me to full mast.

"You’ll get your turn," he purrs against my cock, voice full of promise, lips barely touching.

Such a sweet torture.

Then Logan's hot, wet mouth engulfs me, and fuck, it's good.

Too bloody good.

I'm wound tighter than a coil, my entire world narrowing down to the relentless, and quite skillful slide of his lips. And the way he looks up at me through a fan of dark eyelashes. One hand cups my balls and the other hand slips beneath me to grip my arse, angling my hips just how he wants them.

"Logan," I gasp, a strangled moan spilling from my lips, "this is... bloody... Jesus... so..."

Logan chuckles around my cock, the vibrations sending me hurtling even further over the edge. I clutch fistfuls of upholstery as sensation dances along my spine, a thousand tiny sparklers igniting all at the same time.

"Logan," I whimper, the words coming out in a choke, "I'm going to..."

He moans in response, his talented tongue flicking against the tip of my cock, and that's it. I'm spent, my entire body coiling tighter than a mousetrap's spring before the snap.

White-hot pleasure explodes through my veins, my seed spilling into Logan's waiting mouth. Fuck, it's amazing. What battle wounds? What fucking bar fight?

I forget about it all as I ride this rapturous wave, arching off the cushions.

That’s it, that’s the feeling, that’s the real happiness. Dirty and sweet and absolutely mind-blowing.

Balls emptied and cock ruined, I sink into the sofa, my chest heaving like I've just run a marathon. Logan—dear, sweet, patient Logan—pulls away and licks his lips with the tip of his devious tongue. Butterflies take up residence in my stomach as I watch him clean me off with my own discarded T-shirt, his face shining with a sheen of sweat and accomplishment.

"Don’t worry. I’ve got laundry." He chuckles at my raised eyebrows.

"What about you?" I ask, pointing at his hard-on.

"Not today." He flops on the couch next to me. "But you owe me one now."

Our legs are pressed together, and I rest my head on his shoulder. "You know," I say, the afterglow enveloping me like a blanket. "Now, I’m ready to die. This blow job was the best five minutes of my entire life."

Logan drapes an arm around my shoulders. "There's more where that came from."

"I’m also realizing something now. My own deepthroating skills are horrible."

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