Page 12 of Unmistakably Us

Four

By the time January pulled up to his room toward the end of the gravel lot, Logan’s dick was harder than he ever remembered it being. The rumble of the bike coupled with January’s ass vibrating on his cock had him on the verge of shooting a load in his pants.

The way she handled that bike was orgasmic. A chick who rides was already a weakness for him, but a chick who rides well, even better. She was such a perfect package. All innocence and dirty girl rolled into one.

If he were looking for something more, she would certainly be on his radar…but I’m not, so you can shut down that line of thinking right fucking now.

Logan never thought he’d have to give himself a mental talking-to about a chick. As he dismounted the bike, he shook off his thoughts, thoughts he didn’t need in the first place, and focused on the woman pulling the helmet off her head.

He invaded her personal space and wrapped her up in his arms before she had a chance to hang the helmet from the handle bar. Leaning her forward, forcing her ass against his hard cock, he asked a question he genuinely wanted to know the answer to.

“Am I responsible for that flushed look or is it the bike?”

Her answer was breathless and needy.

“Demon,” she panted.

Logan was confused.

What the fuck did a demon have to do with anything?

“Excuse me, Rabbit? Do you need an exorcism? I’m no priest, but I bet I can make your body contort like there is a demon leaving it, and I know for a fact I can make you pray hard as fuck.”

Her laugh was infectious as she turned in his arms and leaned toward the back of the bike.

“Demon, it’s his name.” She pointed to the vicinity of the darkened taillight. Before he had a chance to look where she pointed, she relieved him of the backpack as she untangled herself from Logan and made her way toward the last cluster of doors at the end of the building. “That one?” she asked and pointed to the last door.

Absentmindedly, he nodded.

“When you puzzle it out, superstar, I’ll be waiting by the door for you to let me in so I can ride your cock like I ride Demon. Hard, fast, and howling into the night.” The attempted howl she punctuated her statement with made his cock twitch.

Logan felt his eyes swell along with his twitching cock. January’s blush told him this wasn’t a tactic she took with men often. Good to know.

His steps ate up the distance to the door. As he unlocked it with a classic key on a plastic oval, he tore his eyes from her long enough to glance back at the bike. The streetlight bounced off her tag, KSSRME. It took him just a few seconds to puzzle it out. Kiss Army, Domino, Demon.

“Fuck if you don’t get sexier by the second,” he breathed into the night as he swung the faded wood plank door wide. “Welcome to my…well, I don’t dare classify it as a home. But either way, welcome.”

January brushed past him—closer than she needed to—as she entered. Dropping her bag and toeing off her shoes, she attempted to pull her shirt over her head. Logan slammed the door and halted her progress with a bear hug, lifting her bare feet off the dingy shag carpeting.

“Stop. That’s my present, so I get to unwrap it,” he growled as his cock ground into her perfect ass as if it had a mind of its own.

It did.

Logan couldn’t wait to get her naked and riding him like her Demon, as she put it, but he had fantasized about undressing her for too many nights to let his, or her, anxiousness rob him of that pleasure.

He unwound his arms, spinning her to face him. God, she’s beautiful. Every time their eyes clashed, he lost the ability to exchange air in his lungs. He hoped tonight would cure him of that ailment.

But with her taste still lingering on his tongue, he kind of hoped it was a terminal affliction.

No fucking way. Not happening. Ever. He did have a terminal condition however, and it was called being unattached. No matter how smoking hot she was, Logan was not in it for an old lady or recyclables by the curb on Tuesday. No fucking way.

When he realized January stood still, obeying his command and awaiting further instruction, he decided the unwrapping fantasy needed to go into hyperdrive. He couldn’t wait another second to drive his aching cock into her tight pink pussy.

He knew what it looked like. He would never dine with his eyes closed. Even in the sickly glow of the yellowing lights filtering toward the back of the club, he could remember every line of her body.

Logan sat in the faded tweed chair that frankly smelled like 1972. Somehow, that’s the thought that stuck in his head from the first time he entered the room.

He removed his boots then leaned back into the year when Tricky Dick ruled the free world. He undid his fly to give his favorite body part some much needed space. Unlacing his boots had been a lesson in torture. “Strip.” Yeah, strip won out over unwrapping.

---