Page 33 of My Cowboy Salvation
Ah. She feels amazing, and I’m torn with the desire to lick my fingers and taste her and the need to stay exactly where I am. For the sake of going undetected, I keep my finger over her clit and continue to rub, feeling her move with me even as the music around us swells louder.
She bites down on her lip, a sign she’s fighting the urge to cry out in pleasure, and I know I should slow my pace, to let her adjust to this simple feeling of my finger stroking her in time with the music, but I also enjoy the pure pleasure I’m giving her as her hips rise faster and faster, a subtle movement no one would notice if they weren’t looking. Like me.
I glance over to Parker, who is staring off to the side of the stage, a glazed look on his face. Classical music is definitely not his thing. Leaning down, I brush my lips dangerously close to Dylan’s ear. “Come for me, baby. Let yourself go.”
She bites down harder on her bottom lip, and her hand suddenly drops over mine, that’s still rubbing her under the fabric of her dress. She grips my hand, as if channeling all the built up pleasure and tension in this one contact, and I feel her body tighten, her thighs squeezing around my hand as she lets out a soft sob. The music suddenly reaches its crescendo, as if I timed this moment perfectly, and I watch her face as the orgasm wracks her body, and her eyes close for the barest moment. Then her body melts to the seat in relaxed bliss as the music continues to play.
She’s come all over my hand, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I hold it there, connected to her as I feel her breathing slowly return to normal. I don’t know how long we stay like that, my hand under her dress, dripping with her moisture, but I’m suddenly aware the song is reaching its end.
When audience breaks into applause, I finally, reluctantly, pull my hand from her panties and bring it in contact with my other hand and clap, pretending my joy and satisfaction in this moment is caused by the end of the inspiring piece of music—and not because the beautiful woman next to me just rode my hand to the strains of the music until she came in joyous bliss.
Magnifico.
Chapter 17
Dylan
It’s late,and after the incredible night I’ve had, there’s no way I’m ready for sleep. Not when all I can remember is what Logan and I were doing in the middle of a crowded concert hall with his son sitting next to me.
Who knew the man of law and order had such a naughty streak?
Besides, it’s my birthday, and I’m longing for another bite of the cake Logan ordered us from the restaurant.
Outside my room, I hesitate as I look at Logan’s closed door. He asked me to cool things off until after his son leaves, and I’ve been trying to honor that request. After all, it wasn’t me pushing my hands in his pants tonight, even though I would have been happy to. Still, I feel like there’s been a wall placed up outside his bedroom door that I can’t let myself push through without an invitation.
So I slip past his room and continue down the hall, passing Parker’s room, before heading downstairs. In the kitchen, I pull out the thick slice of cake that’s still in the to-go box and grab a fork. Leaning against the counter, I dig in to the heavenly, rich chocolate cake, closing my eyes at its deliciousness, although even this still pales in comparison to the deliciousness of the climax Logan teased from me earlier tonight.
I’m about halfway through the slice when I hear the floorboards creak, and a few seconds later, Logan appears in the kitchen in a pair of navy sweatpants and a tee shirt. He leans against the counter next to me, so close his hip grazes me.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”
“Don’t worry. I was already awake when I heard you leave your room.”
So he knew I was down here. That knowledge, along with the fact that despite saying we had to cool things down, he still couldn’t keep his hands off me tonight, fills me with a sense of euphoria.
This man, this strong, courageous, intelligent man, is battling with himself over his need… for me.
“Actually, I have one more gift for you,” he says, pulling something from his pocket. “I debated giving it to you earlier, but wasn’t sure how it would look to Parker.” He hands it to me.
It’s a lightweight rectangular-sized box with a pink bow wrapped around it. And suddenly I feel like I’m a twelve-year-old girl busting at the seams to see what I’m getting. I should tell him he didn’t have to, that the concert tickets were enough, but my excitement won’t allow it, and I pull the bow and lift off the lid. Resting on the cushion is a stunning gold necklace shaped round like a shell with a diamond in the middle. “Oh, Logan. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a locket. Open it.”
I didn’t even realize that. I lift the locket out as he takes the box and sets it on the counter, then turns to watch me in anticipation. Pushing against the clasp, the locket pops open to reveal its secret. Tears well in my eyes as I recognize the faces of my parents filling each side. I shake my head, wondering how he managed to find pictures for this, since everything I own is now at Simon’s—and I doubt it’s intact. “How did you find these pictures?”
“Have to give my assistant all the credit. She looked through public records for some photos and came up with these. Here. Let me help you get it on.” He takes it from my hands.
The touch of his warm fingers caresses the back of my neck as he finds the clasp. His fingers linger, and I close my eyes at the simple touch. “Happy twenty-third birthday, Dylan,” he says, his lips close enough to my ear that I shiver.
I turn around and stare into his eyes, hoping he sees all the thanks and gratitude I feel. And more. “There’s only one thing left that would make this birthday even better.”
“I’m going to regret asking, but… what’s your final birthday wish?”
“You, Logan. Here. Now.”
He seems to be sweating, despite the chill in the air, and he glances up the stairs and back to me. The desire blazes in his eyes, and I know he’s just a hair away from breaking. I’ll make this easier for him. Reaching out, I rub my hand against the bulge in his sweats, a bulge that’s already hardening and lengthening under my fingertips. “You started this thing, Chief. Tormenting me when we were surrounded by all those people tonight, knowing I couldn’t scream my release like I wanted to. It’s only fair we close the deal. It is my birthday wish.”
“Fuck, Dylan. You’re going to kill me, baby.”
