Page 71 of Necessary Roughness
Sloane:What a coincidence. I was just fantasizing about that too. But don’t you have a game tomorrow?
Me:I don’t care. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I see you.
There was a long pause before she replied. It made me second-guess my suggestion. The clock ticked by. Three minutes was a long time to wait for a response from someone who was just texting you rapid-fire.
Sloane:Well then what are you waiting for?
I quickly changed clothes and threw on some shoes.
Time to see just how bad this idea was.
29
Sloane
I quickly tidied up my room, hiding my dirty laundry hamper in the closet and then covering it with a pair of sweatpants. I barely had enough time to brush my teeth before he texted me to let me know he was at the door.
“You came quick,” I whispered while letting him in.
“I’m a gentleman, so I won’t make a dirty joke about that.” He grinned and ran a hand through his sun-kissed brown hair. “It was a quick drive. The slowest part was sneaking out.”
I led him back to my bedroom and said, “I didn’t get a chance to put on my sexy underwear…”
The moment the door was closed, he tilted my chin up and gave me a slow, passionate kiss. “That’s all right. It wasn’t going to stay on you very long anyway.”
I grinned up at him.
We kissed our way back to the bed, collapsing weightlessly onto the sheets. Logan planted an arm next to my head to keep from crushing me as we made out, then slowly sank between my legs, giving a little more of himself to me with every lash of his tongue. I spread my thighs, welcoming him in, appreciating the pressure of his heft against my sex.
Logan was strong, and sturdy, and the only thing in the world that mattered.
Despite his promise to tear off my clothes and fuck me until neither of us could breathe, Logan was tender with his kisses and soft with his hands. I savored the passionate way he explored my body, like we had all the time in the world and nothing to prove. I was sopping wet and whimpering with need when he finally stripped my clothes off.
I sat upright and pulled his shirt over his head, then set out to kiss every inch of his broad, muscular chest. His skin was hot to the touch, and I imagined it was all the blood flowing to his muscles every time they flexed.
Then he was cupping my ass and pushing me onto my back, once again sinking into me. His cock was stiff and warm, the underside ground against my clit and pubic hair, rubbing back and forth in a way that excited and infuriated me.
“I thought you wanted to fuck me,” I said, biting my lip.
“I do,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around my thigh and holding it against his ribs. “But I also want to make slow, sweet,achinglove to you.”
Only then did he back off a few inches, allowing his crown to slide past my clit and down into my soft lips. He groaned, a rumble in his throat as he shifted his weight from one arm to the other, grabbing my ass for leverage and then sliding in like he belonged there.
I sighed and gasped and moaned as he slowly made love to me. I wanted to remind him that he had a game tomorrow, that every minute we wasted was a minute stolen from his sleep, but it certainly didn’tfeelwasted while he drove into me, his body undulating like a wave.
It was the opposite of the hard, fast, desperate sex Knox and I’d had in the classroom, yet somehow equal in its perfectness. I spread my legs and arched my back, allowing him to thrust even deeper into me, hitting every nerve as I clamped myself around his girth, desperately hoping it felt as good for him as it did for me.
My wish was granted soon after when Logan’s breath drew shallow, his motions just slightly more fervent. He quickened his pace, and I moaned along with him and ran my hands over his back, feeling the broad muscles contracting while he made love to me the same way they contracted when he reached up to pluck a football pass out of the air, and as we both came together I wondered which caused a greater sense of pleasure—an orgasm or a touchdown pass.
He stayed inside me, shuddering and spasming for a while. I wrapped all my limbs around him, clinging to him like some sort of parasite that never wanted to feel the emptiness that would come as he withdrew, and he kissed me with enough passion and care that I forgot about all my other worries.
But he did withdraw, kissing a trail down my chest as he did so, pausing just above my mound and gazing up at me with a question in his eyes.
“No,” I whispered, pulling him alongside me. “I want to cuddle.”
“Mmm, I like cuddling.”
Neither of us spoke for a while. Nothing needed to be said; the moment was too perfect, and could only be diminished by words.
