Page 66 of Logan

“Stop.”

My hand froze the moment I heard Clay’s order, and my head fell back against the couch with a groan of frustration.

“Clay. You’re killing me.”

He laughed at me, and although I was practically writhing with desperation, I smiled as well.

“You’re going too fast,” he chastised me, shaking his head like I’d disappointed him. “I want you to go slower so I can enjoy it.”

I could already see his plan forming behind his eyes. He was going to tease me for as long as he could. The power I’d given him over me excited him, and he planned to make it last.

Bracing myself for a rough ride, I followed his request and started stroking myself much slower than before.

It was torture. I wanted nothing more than to take myself firmly in hand and chase the orgasm that was building in my gut, but Clay wouldn’t let me. He insisted that I keep my touch slow and soft, and even started directing me on exactly how I should touch myself.

For a full minute, he had me focus on just the head of my cock, bringing myself so close to orgasm my vision started to turn white. Then, just before I found release, he ordered my hands away from my cock entirely and only let me touch my thighs and chest until I calmed down. Then, when I could finally touch my cock again, I had to keep my strokes so light and slow that I could barely feel them.

It was the most intense kind of edging because I was doing it to myself. At any moment, I could easily put an end to it and let myself come, but my hands seemed to no longer be connected to me. They moved only under Clay’s command, as if he’d somehow reached into my brain and taken direct control of me.

Clay never took his own clothes off, but at some point, he started rubbing himself through his shorts. I couldn’t even enjoy the sight of him pleasuring himself, trapped as I was within the prison of my own skin. He controlled everything. He told me when I could make noise and when I had to be silent. When I could close my eyes and when I had to keep them open.

I obeyed every word he said.

The sun was still up when I returned home from work, but it had set behind the horizon when Clay finally gave me permission to finish. Tears were leaking from my eyes at that point, and it didn’t take more than a couple of quick strokes for me to fall over the edge that I’d been teetering on for so long.

My throat was a dry, tangled knot, and the moan that I let out when I came sounded like someone was choking me. I made a mess of my own hand and thighs, and even managed to stain the couch, but I didn’t care about the cleanup. My brain was filled with nothing but static and fog as I lay sprawled over the couch, as limp as a wet rag.

“Wow,” Clay gasped. His voice was breathless, and when I cracked one eye open to look at him, I could see a wet patch on the front of his shorts.

I tried to sit up, but my boneless limbs wouldn’t cooperate, and I collapsed back into my undignified sprawl.

“Forget what I said earlier. You weren’t trying to kill me before. This is how you plan on killing me.”

Clay’s whole body was shaking, though I suspected it was more from emotional exhaustion than physical exertion. He lay down sideways on his bed, using his arms as a pillow so he could stilllook at the phone. “That would be such a waste. I’ve got too many plans to kill you now.”

I groaned again and ran my clean hand through my sweaty hair to push it out of my eyes.

“Fuck. If that’s what sex is like when you’re seven states away, I don’t think I could handle having you in the same room.”

Clay scowled at me, his pale eyebrows furrowing, but it was clearly a joke since his lips were still smiling.

“You’d better figure out how to handle it, because that’s my goal. Someday we’re going to have sex for real, and you better be ready when we do.”

The half-assed salute I gave him would have horrified my drill instructors from the past.

“Sir, yes, sir. I promise, I will rise to the occasion.”

Clay smothered his giggle against his arms, but I could still hear him. Every time I heard him laugh it made my heart nearly float out of my chest.

When we first met, such sounds of joy seemed impossible for him. He’d come such a long way in such a relatively short amount of time.

The memory of my early conversation with Roland flickered to life in my mind, but I immediately pushed it away. There were so many things I could talk to Clay about, but I would not be bringing up the Bell ringer case. Especially not now, after we just made another monumental leap forward in our relationship.

Maybe, someday, I’d bring it up with him, but today was not that day.

In fact, that day might never come, but as I listened to Clay’s laughter, I realized that failing to solve the Bell ringer case wouldn’t be the end of the world. I wouldn’t give up on it, but I also had to admit when something was beyond me.

I couldn’t solve this case all by myself, but I could dedicate myself to ensuring Clay’s happiness, and help him keep moving forward.

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