“Too big for whom?”
She said nothing.
“Answer me, babe. Too big for whom?”
“Men.” She spoke so quietly I could barely hear her.
I chuckled. “I find that hard to believe. From a very early age, boys are fascinated with breasts, the larger, the better.”
Finally, she let the beam of those deep blue eyes reflect directly back into the lighter blues watching her.
“Only until they get tired of bouncing and jostling them. Then, men tend to ignore the girls or call them sloppy.”
I suddenly hated those men who put women down to satisfy their fragile egos. I wanted to kill the bastards who’d made her feel that way. “What if I was to tell you I think they’re just perfect? Exactly the shape and size I like?”
“I’d think you’re lying.”
“Then you would be wrong.”
I slid the chemise off her shoulders and cupped them. She shivered and looked at the floor.
“Magnificent.” I circled their circumference with reverence. “Perfect.”
She looked up at me from under her lashes. The ghost of a smile played over her lips. Her nipples, like perfect red pearls, beckoned to me. I rolled each of them between my thumbs and forefingers. They stood, rock hard, begging for more attention.
“Now, it’s your turn to tell me your favorite fantasy.”
She looked up at me. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“It is now. Come on now, fair is fair.”
Another of those alluring blushes rose over her breasts washing up into her cheeks. “I don’t have fantasies.”
“Logan, you are the most terrible liar. You’d never survive in a court of law.”
Her blush deepened, but she laughed. “Unlike the master here? Remember I lived with one.”
Past tense, hmm. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ll never know whether I can believe you.”
I met her gaze in the mirror. “You have my solemn word that I’ll never lie to you.”
She snorted. “Oh right, like I’m supposed to believe that.”
“What would make you believe?”
“What do you swear on in court?”
“The Bible.”
“Swear on the Bible and your mother’s life.”
“I swear on the Bible and my mother’s life I will always tell you the truth, even when you don’t like what you hear. And what do you swear on?”
“I swear on my son’s soul.”
“Now that’s done with let’s get back to the business at hand. Your fantasy?”
She leaned her head against my shoulder, and the brush of her hair tickled my abdomen. “My fantasy is to have an orgasm with a man.”
“What do you mean, ‘have an orgasm with a man’? You’ve never orgasmed before? Greg never did that for you?”
“No, he did not.”
What the fuck? Selfish bastard! “So how? What’s your fantasy?”
She drew her tongue over her lips. “He licks me,” she whispered.
“Where?”
Another blush. “You know, down…down there.”
“I can see we’ve got a lot to teach you. Let’s start by calling down there by the correct name. Where do you want me to lick you?”
She tried to struggle out of my arms, but I held her firm. “I don’t want you to do it. It’s just my fantasy.”
“You don’t have a say in the matter unless you tell me to stop altogether. Now, where do you want me to lick?”
She said nothing for several beats. I luxuriated in the feel of her skin, warm, soft, and smooth, like fine silk. She gave a low moan and grabbed my forearms.
“My clitoris.” She whispered so softly I barely heard her, but it was enough.
I brushed her hair behind her ear and nibbled her lobe and neck before sweeping her into my arms. It was at times like these I was grateful for all those hours spent at the gym. Setting her on the edge of the bed, I spread her legs and simply gazed at the vision before me. My cock hammered away inside my boxers. I ignored it. This night was about her. This night was about showing her how to enjoy sex, a thing of beauty in all of its glorious, messy delight.
A dusting of trimmed dark hair tickled the finger I trailed along the crease of those plump, red lips. A slick of dew glistened at the entrance to her depths. She wasn’t ready; almost, but not quite. I leaned down and blew gently. Another of those low moans she fought to suppress escaped.
I slid my body over Logan until our noses touched. I caught a wisp of her floral-spicy scent. I imagined Logan, dancing in a field of carnations, one of my favorite flowers. I kissed each eyelid, tenderly and reverently, before working my way down her body. She started to make tiny gasps and arched forward as I trailed my tongue over the curve of her stomach. Almost ready. I refused to rush and continued my journey down the inside of one leg and up the other. When I arrived back at home plate, the moisture of her desire glistened on her thighs.
I inhaled deeply, breathing in the notes of her sweet musk. Like a fine wine, with an earthy undertone and a soft finish. I blew another whisper of air over her, and she arched her hips toward me. She was definitely ready.
I drew my tongue over that precious pink button as it stood at attention and settled in for a feast. I played her clit like a musical instrument, taking my time with every note. I nibbled, flicked, nuzzled, licked, and nipped until she was gasping for air. Yet, she didn’t come. Except for the occasional thrust of her groin toward my mouth, she didn’t move at all. It was as if she found herself on a ledge unable to take the leap that would save her.
How could it be that she’s never come with a man? What kind of an idiot would pass up on such a treasure, such a gift?
I drew the fullness of that small, ripe bud into my mouth, enjoying the taste of her essence like that of a good Bordeaux. She moaned again and remained still. I took my time suckling and tonguing her clit, her folds, her entrance, drinking in her nectar. Our juices mingled, saturating the sheets; and still, she remained on that plateau.
I slid a finger, then two into her depths and let her heat rush through me like an inferno seeking kindling. Her pussy gripped and released my fingers, opening like the red petals of an exotic flower. This time her hips arched off the bed and thrust toward me, tiny whimpers of pleasure bleating from her lips. I took a moment to gaze at this picture of perfection, this woman so ripe but unable to fall from the vine. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and tension radiated from every pore, yet something about the open rigidity begged me to continue.
I curled my fingers upwards and found that sweet spot that eluded so many men’s attention. Hers was thick and swollen with her passion. She moaned and thrust even higher. Using a come hither motion, I rubbed and pressed while plunging deeper into her. Perspiration covered her like a fine dew. I sank my head back to its task and sucked her in with one swift motion as I continued to torment her G-spot.
A low guttural moan escaped as the avalanche overcame her. Wanting to take her to the highest precipice possible, I sucked and thrust even deeper. She shuddered and shook, completely swept up in a wave of ecstasy, and it occurred to me this may be the first time I’d experienced a woman experiencing orgasm. Oh sure, the tartlets I’d enjoyed writhed and gasped and moaned about just how good I was but never had I seen the deep rhythmic muscle contractions that held Logan in their grasp.
Never had I seen a woman so immersed in her pleasure that nothing else mattered. It was so beautiful to see. I could love a woman like this. The thought shook me to the core; then memory kicked me right in the balls. I had to escape. Love was not an option. It had always ended in bitter emptiness. I wouldn’t let that happen again. I couldn’t. What was wrong with me? Here was the woman I dreamed of, who excited me beyond reason, and I was in a state of panic.
As her contractions subsided and her body stilled, I slowly withdrew, unable to cope with the myriad emotions racing through me. She curled toward me. I sprang up, petrified of making
an emotional connection with this woman. She looked up at me, surprise pulsing from eyes almost black with desire. She reached out to me, and it scared me to death. I didn’t expect such a response from Logan. All I could think of was to run from the room. Run fast. In an effort not to be a total cad, I pulled a blanket over her naked body. She curled into a ball and closed her eye.
“Good night, Logan.”
I refused to see the single tear that leaked from Logan’s closed eyes as I shut the door to her room. What had I done?
Chapter 13
Logan
The ongoing gloom didn’t help me see through the emotional turmoil. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing. For the first time in my life, I knew the meaning of that overused phrase, “bittersweet.” What the hell had I done? Duh. Stupid question. I’d let him do whatever he wanted. There were many moments in my life when I couldn’t look at myself naked in front of a mirror. Yet last night, I’d let Daniel strip me bare and lay me on the bed with my legs spread wide in an open invitation.
I could blame the wine or the intoxicating allure of the house, but that was too easy. No, it was much more than that. Daniel was physical perfection. When he looked at me, he made me feel special. Wanted. Cared for. I hardly knew the man, yet he brought out feelings I’d forgotten I had, and it frightened me. My body still sparkled with the memory of his soft lips and warm tongue taking me to the peak of my need, pushing me over the edge of any resistance. I never wanted that feeling to end.
My thoughts flooded with dark desires I’d only fantasized about—tied to the bed, arms high, legs wide, resistance futile. Ravaged over and over, deep and hard. I want you to. I need you to. Please… Please. Even thinking about it made me blush. What was happening to me?
A bit over the top, Logan. But why had he just covered me up and left? He must have known he could have had me. It would have been so easy. How could he show such care one minute then simply walk away? What was so wrong with me that he had to walk away?
The smell of coffee brought me rushing back to reality. I pulled a modest vintage outfit from Anais’s dressing room and searched out the source of the enticing aroma.
In the kitchen, Daniel sat in a chair tinkering with an old-fashioned radio. He looked up at me with that half-smile, half-smirk. “No signal yet. Coffee?”
I didn’t know if I should ignore him or slap that look off his face. I did neither. I fell back on the tried and true…pointed sarcasm. “Oh, you made enough for me? Aren’t I privileged? For some reason, I have the impression you wouldn’t think about me once you’ve had what you wanted.”
He gave me a hard look, the smile now gone from his face. “Excuse me. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t confuse me with that selfish husband of yours.”
That hit home. He was right. I was acting like a bitch who didn’t get everything she wanted and was enjoying a terrific pity party. To make matters worse, he got up and poured me a coffee adding a dollop of honey and some cream. Just the way I like it. That in itself was something Greg had never done for me. I was certain Greg didn’t even know how I took my coffee.
“Logan,” Daniel said.
I melted under the intensity of his gaze.
“You must know watching you last night was one of the most beautiful things I can remember.”
I sipped the coffee trying to put order to my jumbled thoughts. A cauldron of mixed feelings swirled within me. I tried to hold them in. The bitch goddess blew them out of my mouth.
“I don’t understand. It’s been a long time since I felt beautiful and wanted. You made me feel that way again. Then you couldn’t get away fast enough.”
“The last thing I wanted to do was confuse you. I’ve watched you for a long time, but I’m just starting to realize you have no idea just how beautiful you are.”
A warm glow seeped through me at his words. Could this possibly be true?
“But—”
“Just let me finish before I lose my nerve. This isn’t easy for me either. I like you, Logan. Oh hell, I think I’ve been in like with you from the first time I met you. I’ve ignored these feelings for obvious reasons, but there’s more.”
“But—”
He puts a finger to his lips. “Let’s just say I embrace a sexuality that goes beyond the accepted standard. It’s part of who I am, and I don’t apologize for that, but others aren’t so understanding. I’ve learned not to get too involved with anyone because it never ends well. Now you have dropped into my life. A woman who means more to me than I thought possible. I don’t know how to handle that.”
Now I was more than a little intrigued, and a warm heat radiated between my legs. Like kinky stuff? He’s in like with me? What the hell does that mean?
“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who runs away from his feelings. Is that really how you feel or are you saying I’m not ready to accept who you are?”
He looked up at me with an enigmatic smile. “Good question. Are you?”
“I can’t answer that. What I do know is last night, before you so rudely walked out on me, I would have let you do anything you wanted. You could have made me into anything you desired. Opportunity lost, Daniel.”
He leaned back in his chair, his deep laugh filling the room. “Next time I’ll bring protection.”
“Good point, I hadn’t thought of that.” My heart beat a little faster, and my nipples hardened with those two words, “next time.”
“It doesn’t look like this storm is going to end anytime soon, and I’m good with that. Being here with you, spending time with you, is both exciting and totally unexpected. I find myself wishing the storm would never end, but we both know that’s not possible.
“I also know being with you changes everything. What I don’t know is what that means for us.”
I knew I should say something but didn’t. I couldn’t. Daniel was right.
“Why don’t we take the time to think about it? Meanwhile, I’m going to read more of Anais’s journals. I left the ones you were reading in the library if you want to do more research.”
I paced around the library trying to make sense of my roiling feelings. Damn him. My right brain raged: Why couldn’t he be like other guys and just get to it? My left brain countered with the realization that it was this very control, the enigma of his desire for my body that attracted me to him. He’d given me the best orgasms of my life, and I was smitten. I wanted him to make my body sing with pleasure. That’s what I wanted. But I didn’t want to set the rules, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to follow his. Damn it!
I stomped back to my chair by the fireplace and grabbed another of Anais’s diaries.
…Edward bound my wrists and ankles to the bedposts with strips of silk. My heart fluttered so fast I thought it would take flight. Never had I met a man who could so easily possess me. Never had I met a man who knew exactly how to take me to limits I’d never experienced before.
* * *
“I will possess your soul, Anais. You will be mine.”
Oh, my. Down there pulsed and ached as I read about their sexual endeavors, their illicit romance.
...Edward’s teaching me to use all the naughty words. Today he made me say bogging, bum hole, cock-stand, and cunt. Then, I twiddled his cock. He loves it when I twiddle his cock. I best love sucking it.
I read the same page for ten minutes. My mind raged in concert with the storm buffeting this grand old house. I stared up at the picture of Anais reclining on the very chaise lounge resting in the great room. She wouldn’t be in this dilemma. She’d know just what to do to get Edward to sink his penis inside her. I crossed my legs, squeezing them tight to quell the raging sensation emanating between my thighs. It didn’t help. My pink parts burned to feel Daniel’s penis splitting me wide open.
I looked out the window into the black day. There was nothing to see but dense sheets of rain, the roar of the wind buffered by the thick stone of the house. I tried to focus on the things that should be concerning me. I
checked my cell phone; still no signal. Had Judy received the text I’d sent? Was Greg driving her off the deep end trying to find me?
What if you took your clothes off for him? He loved your breasts.
I shook away the unbidden voice in my head. Where had that come from? I shivered and put another log on the fire. I paced. I tried to read. I paced some more. Realizing I was hungry, I headed off to the kitchen. Other than the smell of fresh coffee, there was no sign that Daniel had set foot in there since breakfast. I fussed about what to eat, starting my exploration with the pantry.
The fridge netted a tasty-looking potato salad and spiral-cut honey ham. How the heck did those get here? I stewed about whether I should make Daniel something to eat, and my caregiver persona went into full-fledged war with my newly-developing bitch persona. I was discovering and owning my personal power. Part of that power was giving myself permission to stop compulsively waiting on the men in my life.
I changed my mind, fixed him a plate, and taking the back stairs went in search of him. He wasn’t in the study. He wasn’t in his bedroom. Where the hell is he? Yes, the bitch came out to play again. I was having trouble getting her to take a rest. These new feelings were disturbing and exhilarating. Sighing heavily, I walked through to my bedroom. Time to do more exploring of Anais’s extensive wardrobe.
There he lay, completely naked, hands behind his head, on my bed. My bed. The warm fireplace cast a flickering light over his bare skin.
“Daniel?”
He didn’t move. Was he asleep? I tiptoed over and set the plate and glass of iced tea beside the empty coffee mug resting on my bedside table. Then I took a really good look. He was magnificent. Dark blond hair lightly sprinkled his lean, hard chest. Daniel wasn’t muscle-bound, but he was in very good shape. Like a runner. Or a diver. Long, lean, and sleek. His flat stomach led to a thicker thatch of blond hair framing an absolutely gorgeous semi-erect penis. At least, I thought it was semi-erect; if it wasn’t, it was frightening. I stood staring, a quivering mass of sex hormones.
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