Sky's the Limit

by Elle Aycart

  “I’d rather stick with what I’ve got, thanks.”

  She pressed on. “I’ve never done a mohawk, but I’m pretty sure I can shave your sides without nicking your ears. Let me check a YouTube tutorial and we’ll be good to go.”

  He chuckled. “You do know you’re not helping your case, right?”

  She was going to argue, but a loud thump from outside caught her attention. “What…”

  Logan turned toward the windows. “Carol? Is your crew okay?”

  “Yes,” came from the outside. “Minor glitch.”

  “Minor glitch?” Sky whispered.

  “Better not to ask. Believe me.”

  She stared at him, then back at the window. “Shouldn’t we warn your interns?”

  “No need. I started having my students sign a disclosure form right after my first batch thought they were being kidnapped by the government.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “They were from Norway. Apparently, conspiracy theory wackos are an international phenomenon. One of them, Soren, saw a pandemic squad drill after watching one too many episodes of The X Files, and jumped to conclusions.”

  Oh crap. “What did he do?”

  “I’m just going to say thank God I don’t keep guns in the house. Other interns have been less hands-on and more amused. They took pictures.”

  “At least if the diaper business goes belly up, you can always advertise this place as an amusement park. Zombie survival safari.”

  “Don’t tell anyone or they’ll have a summer camp along those lines running in no time. Preppers are nothing if not entrepreneurs. Participants would have to sign a ton of waivers though.”

  She dissolved into laughter. When she got that under control, she found Logan staring at her.

  He brushed a strand of hair from her face. Tucked it behind her ear. “You’re fucking beautiful. You know that, right?”

  She was wearing a T-shirt, boy shorts, and thick wool socks. Her face was scrubbed clean, and her hair was probably a bedhead snarl. “You feeling dizzy? We might be running low on oxygen.”

  He didn’t break eye contact. “It has nothing to do with oxygen. Dressed in Dior and a Brazilian ass, you were gorgeous. Now, without all that shit, you’re better. Fucking breathtaking. You don’t need all that bling. I thought you should know, in case you didn’t.”

  “Are you coming on to me?” she asked. “I’m not the most adept at reading signals, much less in the wee hours and while under siege, but it does feel like you’re flirting with me.”

  “Just calling it as I see it. You don’t need designer clothes or an ass pillow to make an impression.”

  “Very noble of you, but you can’t seriously pretend this”—she pointed at her T-shirt—“has a stronger effect than a kickass dress.”

  “Judge for yourself,” he said, motioning to his lap. His tented lap. The same tent she’d been trying to avoid ogling.

  O-kay. That answered her question. He was coming on to her, yet he wasn’t making any moves. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t moving at all.

  “You sure this isn’t some sort of wacky reaction to the pandemic drill?”

  “Been in plenty of drills, Butterfly. They never shot straight to my cock.”

  The air between them crackled with barely contained energy, making her feel very much aware of how close they were sitting, how few clothes they had on, and how damn sexy the guy looked and smelled. The hard-on straining against the boxers, visibly twitching, didn’t help. She gulped. “I see.”

  “Sorry,” he said quietly. “The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable. You should go back to sleep. Chalk this up to bad judgment brought on by an extremely spicy dinner. If you had plans to go to Minneapolis with the guys tomorrow, you better jump out a window now, before those get shut down too.”

  So the ball was in her court. She held his gaze. “Thanks for the way out, but I’d rather stay here. Who says you’re making me feel uncomfortable? If I were to, let’s say, straddle you, what would you do?”

  “Come in my pants?” he blatantly admitted.

  “We’re surrounded by crazy ladies in space suits.”

  “It wouldn’t matter to me.”

  “Let’s try that theory, shall we?” she said, slowly rising to her knees and straddling him.

  He tensed, his muscles bulging. When she sat on him, he gritted his teeth, his hands fisting in the sofa cushions.

  Sky faltered. Had she misunderstood the situation? Because his hard-on was throbbing between her legs, but he didn’t reach for her. If anything, he looked in pain.

  Feeling awkward, she moved to unstraddle him, but he stopped her, grabbing her hips. “Don’t.”

  “I thought I was reading you wrong,” she whispered.

  He cupped her neck and brought her closer to him, taking her mouth in a deep, commanding kiss that left her light-headed and short of breath. “You were reading me perfectly, Butterfly. But I don’t want you feeling obliged.”

  “Obliged to do what? Sexually service you?” She laughed softly. “What makes you think I don’t expect you to service me?”

  He brushed his thumb over her mouth. Her lips, still tingling from his toe-curling kiss, must have been connected to her stomach, because it convulsed. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at her. Or how his big erection throbbed against her pussy. “You sure you aren’t delirious again?”

  “I don’t think so. Hot, I am; I’ll give you that.” She was never that bold, but she’d jumped the guy. She might as well go for broke.

  “You gonna forget this conversation too?” he asked with a grin.

  “I hope not. Although it probably depends on how well you perform. I’d rather block trauma, if it’s all the same to you.”

  He leaned his forehead on hers, his shoulders shaking. “Fuck, you crack me up.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Good. Very good. I have no issues with servicing you. No issues at all,” he said, that husky voice wreaking havoc on her system, abrading her skin. “And you can bet your sweet, mischievous ass that I will perform to your utter satisfaction. The problem is, no condoms.”

  There it was, the bucket of icy water cooling her down. “What do you mean, no condoms? They’re legal in this state, aren’t they?” Barnie’s only carried what preppers considered priorities—maybe condoms didn’t make the cut?

  He rolled his eyes. “What century do you think we live in around here?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. I remind you we’re in a house currently being sealed off with plastic and tape.”

  “True. I meant I don’t have any condoms here. What?” he asked as she smirked.

  “Don’t you find it a bit ironic that you have a hazmat suit, but you don’t have a measly condom?”

  “Women who favor hazmat suits are the main reason I haven’t felt the need for condoms.” He nuzzled her throat, placing soft kisses along it. “You’re the one with the DIY hacks. Any for our current situation?”

  She could think of only one that would work. “Do you have a goat’s intestine at hand?”

  He stopped. Looked up. “Goat’s intestine?”

  “It was good enough for Cleopatra. It should be good enough for us.”

  “No, I don’t believe I do,” he said, amused. “I’m sure some of the preppers in town do, though.”

  She was sure too. “A town full of preppers, and I have to end up with the one who doesn’t stash supplies.”

  “I do. I stash diapers.”

  She chuckled. “Yes, you do.” She caressed his chest, feeling his muscles flex under his warm skin. “How does a chemist get this cut?” She hadn’t seen a gym in the house.

  “Chopping up wood. Shoveling snow from my driveway. I’ve been meaning to buy a chain saw and a snow blower but haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  “Don’t,” she said softly. He wouldn’t be doing any favors to womankind. Which reminded her. “Why don’t you keep condoms around?”


  “I told you. I haven’t needed them. I’ve been off the market since I came to live here.”

  “That’s a long time to go without sex.”

  “Who says I haven’t had sex?”

  She stopped dead in her tracks. “If I find a fake vagina somewhere around, I’m going to freak out worse than when I thought you were a drug dealer.”

  “No fake vagina,” he said, laughing. “I don’t need it. I have a great imagination and a capable hand. I can take care of myself.”

  “Most men wouldn’t admit to that.” They would boast about their conquests instead. Fake conquests if need be.

  “Most men are full of shit.” He stared at her, his gorgeous eyes scrutinizing. His expression was serious now. “What do you want, exactly?”

  She faltered. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “It’s my experience that women always attach conditions to sex. Some conditions are more difficult to discern.”

  There were so many things wrong with that statement, she didn’t even know where to start. “That right there might be the reason why you haven’t had any lately. Women don’t take kindly to being insulted.” She tried to unstraddle him again, but he held her tighter.

  Arnie went from lying on the floor to sitting at full attention, probably sensing the sudden tension in the air.

  “It wasn’t my intention to insult you,” Logan said. “It’s just an honest observation based on experience.”

  “What experience?”

  “That sex is never just sex. Women expect something in return.”

  “Hell, yeah, we expect orgasms. Plural form, mind you.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Butterfly. I have no issues with that. I can make you come so many times, you’ll beg me to stop.”

  She laughed. “You are sure of yourself, aren’t you? I know what you’re implying. I don’t have any ulterior motives. I’m just passing through. You tickled my fancy. Nice body. Working hard-on by the looks of it. Can your male ego take that? Because I can easily go without. You aren’t the only one with a capable hand, after all.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He caressed her face and whispered, “You smell like coconut.”

  “I put coconut oil on my lips every night before bed.”

  “So that’s the secret to this extra soft, luscious mouth?” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “You smell different in the daytime. Strawberry and vanilla.”

  Her lip balm. The big brands were going for the Lolita vibe right now, very girly scents. “Great olfactory skills for a guy who works with poo every day.” He smelled fantastic too. Like earth and man and soap.

  Kissing her, he reached for her breasts.

  “You might be disappointed,” she warned, fighting to sound flippant while her body was melting at his touch. “A boob contour only gives the visual, not the real thing.”

  “I doubt I’ll be disappointed.” He pulled her T-shirt over her shoulders. Just his eyes on her made her squirm. When he leaned in and took one nipple in his mouth, she jumped, her belly contracting at the sudden pleasure, moisture rushing down to her pussy. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Soft and perfect and fucking responsive. Told you. Not disappointed at all.”

  Unable to stay still, she rocked against his cock, which felt even bigger, if that were possible, and let out a moan. His mouth on her boobs and his hard-on between her legs were working for her.

  Without stopping his ministrations, he delved lower with one hand. She stilled. “We’re going to have to draw the line soon, Mr. Lumberjack.” Before they got too carried away and the need to come overrode common sense.

  “I’ll toe the line, don’t worry. You don’t have to.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t have you. I know. There’s no reason why I can’t get you off. I’d love to feel you coming around my cock, but my tongue and my fingers will have to do.”

  Man, the words alone had given her a mini orgasm. “And you?” she managed to say.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said, nipping at her lips.

  “Let’s jump from the second floor and get some condoms.”

  “You hear that? They’re getting up on ladders. The second floor’s about to be sealed off. There’s no escape.”

  “We’ll have to make the most of it, then,” she whispered, grinding against his hard-on. People were snooping around the house, but the sofa was out of the line of sight, and the lights were off. It was private enough.

  “We will.” Effortlessly, he flipped her over. In the blink of an eye, she was flat on her back, Logan on top of her.

  “Hey!”

  “I might be a bit slow on the uptake, but I’m in charge.”

  Arnie jumped on the sofa and growled, a mere inch from him, showing large teeth.

  “Really?” Logan asked, looking straight into Arnie’s eye. “We’re surrounded by intruders dressed like fucking astronauts and you don’t make a sound, but I put a finger on Sky and you growl?”

  “He’s protecting me. Arnie, down,” she ordered, pushing the dog off the couch.

  He chuffed and stayed close, watching Logan like a hawk.

  “Forget him. Concentrate on me.”

  “I don’t like not being able to see you,” Logan said against her skin, trailing kisses down her stomach.

  “Can’t get it on without visual stimuli?”

  He pressed his groin against her, hard, his erection nesting between her folds, her clit madly pulsing at the deep contact. “Does this feel like I can’t get it on? I want to see what gets you going.”

  “That’s easy, Alchemist,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “If I’m moaning and wet, it’s working for me. If I’m yanking your hair and yelling, it ain’t. On the other hand… well, just play it by ear.”

  His soft chuckle reverberated through her body. “Okay. Just keep in mind I’m under a lot of pressure, with your hellhound looking like he’s going to attack at any moment.”

  “If I yell, he definitely will.”

  “Great. No pressure.” He traveled south, coaxing her legs open. He nuzzled her pussy over the panties, making her jerk as he opened his mouth and played with her through the cloth. “Fuck. I want you so badly.”

  At that moment there was a rather loud thump and a sudden beam of light.

  “Logan?” came a voice from the outside, along with a couple raps on the window glass. “Are you awake? Major glitch here.”

  Logan leaned his face on her stomach and shook his head. “This isn’t happening.”

  “If we keep quiet, they might ignore us,” Sky suggested.

  “They won’t,” he said, and raised his voice. “Yo, Carol, what’s going on?”

  “Hold on, Macy,” Carol called out. “You’ve been upside down for barely ten seconds. Logan? How good is your roof?”

  “Coming,” Logan yelled, then looked at Sky, his expression pained. “I’m fucking sorry, Butterfly. I need to feel you coming on my tongue more than I need my next breath, but I have to go rescue a lady from my roof. I’d love to tell you that I’ll be back in a second, but I’m not sure. Last drill, we had to call the fire department.”

  “I should get dressed, then,” she said while he peeled himself away from her and got up. “Logan? You need to do something with that, before you give them a coronary.”

  He looked at the erection tenting his pants and cursed. Reaching into the end-table drawer, he pulled out what looked like a yellow plastic bag. “This should do it.” He unfolded the hazmat suit and put it on.

  As he walked toward the stairs, she noticed the letters stenciled on his back: If you see me running, try to keep up.

  “Did the pandemic squad put that advice on your suit?”

  “No. I did. Who says they’re the only ones entitled to aggravate their neighbors?”

  In spite of all her pent-up sexual frustration, Sky burst into laughter. These people were nuts.

  Chapter 8

  Logan dropped the hazmat suit and lay
beside Sky on the sofa. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her neck. Fuck, she smelled so good. “You awake?” he whispered, caressing her shoulder.

  “I am now.” Her voice was thick from sleep as she slowly turned to face him. “Sorry I dozed off. Did you get rid of them?”

  Logan touched his lips to hers. “Yes. I even helped them tape the house to speed up matters. We’re alone.”

  “And the major glitch?”

  “The lady who was hanging from the roof is now safe and sound on the ground.”

  “Good,” she said, moving on top of him. “What do you want to do? You tired?”

  Tired? He was totally pumped. “I have a couple suggestions. You in?”

  She smiled enticingly. “Only if you’re up for it.”

  The vixen. Encircling her neck with one hand, he brought her to him and took her mouth while palming her sweet ass. She whimpered, giving herself to the kiss, grinding her pussy against him.

  “You have too many clothes on,” he growled as he let her come up for air.

  Sky sat on him and slowly pulled off her T-shirt. “Yes, I do. You too.”

  She reached for his boxers and yanked. Logan watched her, so sexy, her hair cascading over her naked body. There was no room on the sofa to maneuver, so he rolled them onto the carpet.

  “Wait. What—” she complained as she found herself on her back.

  “My show.” He settled between her thighs and latched on to her tits, sucking at one nipple while he pinched the other.

  She moaned, bowing her back, offering herself to him. Trembling. “We still don’t have condoms,” she said, wrapping her legs around his hips, her panties the only barrier between them.

  “I still can make you come. Ever heard of dry humping?”

  Her laugh was throaty. Such a turn-on. The way she was writhing against his cock was a bigger turn-on.

  He grabbed her wandering hands and held them over her head as he set a slow, hard rhythm, rocking against her pussy while she whimpered and thrashed and lifted her hips. So responsive. He locked his muscles, keeping himself on a tight leash, his cock about to shatter from need. “You’re fucking close, baby.” And so was he. About to explode, actually.