Page 72 of All Bets are Off

Holding my breath, I position myself behind him. “Want to get up on your knees? It might make it easier,” I say.

West shakes his head, face and neck pink. Evidently, he’s not in the talking mood anymore.

The head of my cock pressing against his slick hole, I warn, “I’m a lot bigger than two fingers, so this might hurt a little.” Then, I push in until the ring of muscles swallows the head of my cock.Holy hell.

Gasping, West wiggles, almost like he’s trying to get away, but I stop him with a hand to his back. “Easy. Relax. I won’t move until you say so, okay? But…but could you ease up your grip a little?”

Gradually, West’s body sinks into the mattress and his vice-like grip on my cock loosens.

I let out a breath. “You okay?”

He nods, and I push in a little more, breathing through the overwhelming pleasure. All I want is to let go and start ramming into him, but West’s been careful with me, and I owe him the same courtesy.

“You feel amazing,” I say, easing out a little before making a slow push back in.

West moans low in his throat, the feral sound sending a shiver down my back.

“How does it feel?” I ask a little unsteadily. “Still hurt? The more you relax, the easier it’ll get, I promise.” I hope he adjusts soon because I’m quickly losing my war with sensation and not sure how much longer my words are going to make sense.

Remaining stock still, counting in my head, I get to fifty-seven before West finally speaks, and that’s only to say, “I feel like I have a goddamn log in my ass.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Sweat runs into my eyes, and I wipe it away. “Can I move now? Please?”

“I don’t know. This really hurts,” West says tightly. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“What, you think it didn’t hurt when you did it to me?” I ask before breaking. “West, come on!Pleaselet me move!”

He chuckles, the jerk, before saying, “Okay, go ahead. Do your worst. No, wait! I was kid—”

But it’s too late. Challenge accepted, I begin pumping in and out of him with deep, smooth strokes, while he gasps and groans. Pretty soon, he’s moaning steadily and white-knuckling the bedsheets.

“Oh, my God, Logan, fuck!”

I’m tempted to reply that that’s what I’m doing, but instead, I pat his side and say, “Get up on your knees. That way I can touch you.” He does, and, circling his waist with my arm, I take his cock in my hand. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s not fully hard; I know from experience the discomfort of bottoming can make it difficult to maintain an erection. But I’m determined to make this good for him. Slowly, I begin stroking his shaft in time to my thrusts, doing my damnedest to keep a steady, gentle rhythm. I feel the moment he really starts to enjoy what we’re doing. His body relaxes, his cock hardens, and his breathing becomes erratic. His ass opens up to me suddenly, not only accepting the intrusion, but sucking me in.

“Logan, please…” he grits out from between his teeth. “Oh, my God, that’s good. Right there. Fu-u-uck!”

Incredibly turned on by his reaction, I begin fucking West faster until I’m drenched in sweat and a tingling starts up in my groin. My hand repeatedly fumbles on his cock, so he finally pushes it away and takes over. Grabbing him by the hips, I slam into him hard, over and over again, until my orgasm breaks over me, dousing me with pleasure from my head to my feet. West’s breath stutters, and he moans loudly, his body milking my cock.

We both fall to the mattress while I’m still inside him, continuing to shallowly thrust my hips, enjoying the last trembling aftershocks of my orgasm.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

West

Logan is deeply asleep.

Gently, so as not to wake him, I push back the hair that’s fallen into his eyes. Long, dark lashes fan over his cheeks, just above the dark circles that have recently developed. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Watching his mother deteriorate is taking its toll, and I worry about his health. And it’s not like I can suggest a vacation or anything like that—we’re here for the duration. I just pray for an easy end for Gloria. Turning onto my back and resting my head on the pillow, I consider how I can make the next few months easier on Logan.

Occasional thumps and muted voices from the rest of the house carry through the floor from downstairs as my mind shuffles through ideas.

Eventually, I give up on trying to sleep and get out of bed. My ass hurts. Is this what Logan’s felt every time we’ve had sex? Because it’s not comfortable. Even though Logan made sure I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, now that I’ve been on the receiving end, I have to say I’d much rather pitch than catch. But the bottom line is I want Logan happy, and if that means I need to give him my ass, then I will.

Downstairs, the house is dark except for a desk lamp in the hallway. I pad barefoot to the kitchen and make myself some warm milk, something Gloria got me started on years ago when Logan and I would visit his parents, and I’d be up in the middle of the night with my demons. I add a little chocolate syrup to it to make it more palatable, then take the cup to the living room and curl up on the couch.

My mind turns to the note Logan didn’t tell me about. We already argued about it, and I’m letting it go because I understand that Logan did it because he didn’t want to raise my anxiety or make me too angry at Anna. But he should have told me. Of course, it wasn’t Anna who left the note, but some other nutjob. Turns out our neighbor really was beating his wife. Logan is just lucky the shooter had bad aim. I shudder, the thought of losing Logan chilling me to the bone. Throughout our military careers, that fear has always hounded me, but now that we are lovers, it has magnified tenfold.

Remembering how Anna flashed her breasts at me, I ask myself: Do I miss women? The answer is no. Although seeing a pair of nice tits turned me on as much as it always has, I wouldn’t trade Logan for Anna or any other woman.

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