Matter of Time

by Alannah Lynne

  Reading her intentions, he lifted his hips and eased down his sweatpants as she pressed hot kisses to his stomach, his hipbone, then down to his thighs. Only he could satisfy her years of starvation, and the second her tongue swept over his engorged head and she got her first familiar taste, her eyes closed with rapturous delight and she nearly wept with joy as memories and emotions assaulted her.

  When his fingers speared her hair, locking her in place, she flipped her gaze up to meet his. His eyes were nearly closed, but the heat and desire blasting from him was unmistakable.

  “Open wide, baby.” She eagerly followed the command, but when she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, he surprised her by shaking his head no. “Grab the front legs of the chair.” A cocky, lopsided grin curved his mouth, causing the scar over his upper lip to pull tight. “And hold on tight.”

  Oh God. Yes, yes, yes. The chant echoed through her brain as he flexed his hips and pushed into her mouth. The burn in her lips and jaws as they stretched to accommodate his size was a welcome discomfort, and she took a slow, deep breath while allowing her throat muscles to relax.

  “Damn, baby girl. That mouth of yours is still amazing.”

  She whimpered in protest when he slowly withdrew, then moaned with pleasure as he pushed back in. With each thrust, he fed her a little more, and she shuffled forward on her knees, trying to get as close as possible so she could take all of him.

  “Christ, Lizbeth, your mouth should be registered as one of the world’s greatest wonders.”

  She would’ve laughed if said mouth hadn’t been so gloriously full. Her palms tingled with the need to touch him. To run her hands along his thighs and feel the raw strength and power of them as he drove into her… or cup his balls in her palm to increase his pleasure. But more than that, she wanted to bask in the glory of pleasuring Logan by following his rules, so she tightened her grip on the legs of the chair and held on tight.

  The angle of her head limited her sight, so rather than trying to see his face, she concentrated on the view before her: still-toned abs, rock-hard thighs, and the occasional peek of his cock before it slammed back into her mouth again.

  His muscles contracted a little tighter with each thrust, and her excitement grew as he inched closer to orgasm. Her bag of tricks for pushing him over the edge was limited since she couldn’t use her hands, but she wasn’t completely incapacitated. Each time he withdrew, she ran her tongue around the tip, paying special attention to the sensitive spot underneath, and when his thrusts carried him all the way to the back of her throat, she groaned long and deep, sending vibrations from her vocal chords into his cock.

  “Fuck, yeah.” His hand tightened in her hair as he tried to hold his orgasm at bay, but victory was close at hand, and she wouldn’t be denied. With his next thrust, she drew another deep breath through her nose and moaned from her chest.

  He half laughed, half growled as he bucked wildly and uncontrolled. “Goddammit. You win. I can’t—”

  The words were cut off as he jerked and called out her name while jets of hot fluid shot down the back of throat. Her head buzzed from his tight grip on her hair. Then her body glowed with warmth as he used both hands to massage her scalp to ease the pain inflicted by being too rough. It was such a simple act, but one that made her feel completely loved and cherished.

  While he worked to catch his breath, she slowly licked and laved him, cleaning him off while being careful to not to be too aggressive with his overly sensitized skin.

  “You don’t fight fair.” His words were choppy and half broken with laughter as he struggled for air.

  She laughed and licked her lips while enjoying the narrowing of his eyes as he followed the motion. “I didn’t realize we were fighting. Does that mean we can have make-up sex now?”

  He grinned as he slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her back onto his lap. “Sweetheart, we have years of make-up sex to catch up on. But I need a minute to catch my breath.” He popped off the top of the shrimp salad and grabbed a fork. “And food for energy.” After taking a healthy bite of the salad, he winked and said, “Give me five and I’ll be ready to go again.”

  *

  The next twenty-four hours were among the best of Logan’s entire life. He and Lizbeth spent the remainder of Friday night catching up on each other’s lives while also getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies. She told him about her travels, family, and business. He told her about the business he started after retiring from racing and the new venture—a camp for underprivileged kids—he recently started with ex-BMX pro rider Steve Vex.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Lizbeth knew Steve, since they were from the same region of eastern North Carolina, but he had no idea Steve and Kevin Mazze were such good friends or that Lizbeth knew him so well.

  There were brief periods of sleep following orgasmic crashes when they were so exhausted they couldn’t go any longer. But then one or the other would wake up and, unable to keep their hands to themselves, the seemingly endless loop would start again. He couldn’t remember ever having so much sex in one night, not even in college when he and Lizbeth spent more time naked than dressed.

  Late Saturday morning, they ventured out for breakfast before going to Lizbeth’s hotel to pick up her things. She grumbled and complained about giving up her oceanfront balcony for his dark room at Pandora’s, but as soon as they got back to the room and he put the hooks mounted on the side of the bed to use, her complaining turned to begging… followed by barely comprehendible bursts of gratitude to him and any deity that might be listening. Since they ate a late breakfast, they skipped lunch but left again for dinner, this time taking Lucas with them.

  As Logan held open the door to their room—God, he loved the sound of that… their room—he smiled while reflecting on the evening and all the laughter the three of them shared. Lizbeth always got along well with Lucas, unlike Bobbi Jo, and a fresh wave of sadness crept into Logan’s chest as he considered how different his life would’ve been had he spent it with Lizbeth.

  But with the ringing of his cell phone—again—a pang of guilt slashed through the grief. His life with Lizbeth would’ve been entirely different than the one lived with Bobbi Jo, but he also wouldn’t have three children he adored, and he couldn’t imagine life without them.

  Taking a deep breath designed to infuse his tone with patience, he slipped his phone from his pocket and connected the call. “Yes, Luke, what now?”

  His children had called a dozen times throughout the afternoon, asking the most ridiculous and asinine questions, and if he didn’t know better, he would swear they were doing it just to mess with his plans.

  “Why are you so grumpy?” At thirteen, Luke could be incredibly needy and vulnerable one minute and contentious as hell the next. The sour tone in his voice indicated this was a latter moment.

  Rubbing his thumb and fingers back and forth across his forehead, Logan ignored the question and repeated his own. “What do you need, son?”

  “I need to go over to your house to work on my bike… I messed it up at the track this afternoon, but Mom won’t let me.”

  Logan sighed and sank into the kitchen chair, then propped his elbow on the table and dropped his head into his hand. Trying to be a good, effective parent while not living in the same household with his children seemed like an impossible task. Hell, it was hard enough when they all lived together.

  He and Bobbi Jo rarely agreed on anything, which was especially true when it came to raising their children. In his opinion, she was overprotective and strict, which smothered the kids. She thought him too lenient and said he didn’t set enough boundaries.

  The issue was something they struggled with their entire marriage, even when the kids were little. But now as teenagers, with higher stakes, it was damn near impossible for them to agree. Ultimately, that had been the breaking point in their marriage, and the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. He married her because of their child… an
d divorced her because of them, too.

  Parenting from a distance nearly killed him, because while he talked to each of the kids every day, it wasn’t the same as being in the house with them. And then there were times like this. He didn’t understand her reasons for not letting Luke go to his house, since he had all the tools he needed in Logan’s garage and none at her house. She also didn’t like the mess the gas and oil made in the garage, while Logan felt the garage wasn’t being properly used if the floor wasn’t covered in oil and speedy dry. In this case, it seemed like she was just being a bitch, and while his heart ached with sympathy for his son, the one thing they did agree on was not letting the kids play them against each other.

  “Luke, you know the deal. If your mom says no, I’m not going to say yes.”

  “C’mon, Dad. She said I couldn’t because you’re not there. But I have my own key and go over there all the time when you’re not home. It’s not fair. I didn’t get to go to the beach and visit Uncle Lucas, and now I can’t go to your house either. And there’s nothing to do at Mom’s.”

  “Aren’t you going to Brian’s tonight?”

  “Yeah, but not for another hour. He’s at dinner with his dad right now.”

  “An hour…” So basically, Luke was calling to whine and complain about nothing. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t been to the beach at all.” He glanced at Lizbeth and shrugged at her raised eyebrow. Mouthing to her, he said, “I didn’t step foot on the beach while at your hotel, so that didn’t count.”

  When she laughingly rolled her eyes, he grinned and winked. But then she turned her back on him and slowly drew down the zipper on her dress, and he forgot all about his conversation with Luke.

  “You’re at Uncle Lucas’s and you haven’t been on the beach?” The incredulity of Luke’s voice drew Logan’s attention back to the phone, and he struggled to remember what they’d been talking about.

  “Uhh…” Hmmm… since Lucas’s house sat on the beach, that was a little difficult to explain, so Logan scrambled for an explanation. “I’ve been working on something at his office”—since the kids didn’t know about Pandora’s Playground, his son would assume Logan meant Lucas’s architectural firm—“and haven’t had a chance to get out there.” He glanced at Lizbeth again as a thought occurred. “I know you guys are disappointed you didn’t get to come with me this time, so how about we plan a trip during your spring break?”

  Lucas was always up for a visit with his nieces and nephew, and with luck, Lizbeth would be available to come down too. He hadn’t yet worked out the best way to make an introduction between her and the kids, so meeting on neutral territory at the beach with Lucas to help run interference seemed like a best-case scenario.

  “Okay.” Not completely pacified, but smart enough to recognize he wouldn’t get more out of Logan, he let it go. “When will you be home?”

  Logan gulped as Lizbeth slid one long sleeve off her arm, then reached across her chest and tugged on the other, causing the dress to slip off her shoulders, revealing her sleek, toned upper back.

  “Late tomorrow night. I’ll call you when I’m on the way back. But right now, I gotta go. Love ya, buddy.”

  He barely heard Luke replying, “Love you too, Dad,” as he disconnected the call.

  Silencing the phone so there wouldn’t be any more interruptions, he dropped it on the table and kicked back in the chair to enjoy the show. “From where I’m sitting, this view is a million times better than any sunrise or sunset from an ocean balcony.”

  A grin spread across Lizbeth’s face as she turned her head and peered over her shoulder. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “Definitely approve. Work that dress down over your hips, but don’t let it just fall to the floor. Bend over nice and slow and push it down your legs.”

  Her dark eyes hooded and she nodded slightly as she slid her palms down her sides to bunch the fabric at her waist, then worked it back and forth down over her hips and thighs. Slowly, erotically, as he instructed, she bent forward at the waist and eased the fabric to the floor. And then she stayed just like that, letting him look his fill of her ass with a strip of red fabric from the tiny thong tucked between her cheeks, the backs of her legs wrapped with lace-topped thigh-high stockings, and her feet tipped forward in black fuck-me pumps.

  How could it be that after taking her more times than possible to count, he still wanted her as badly as the second he laid eyes on her in the club?

  “Crawl up onto the bed on your hands and knees with your legs spread apart.”

  As she shivered in response, he checked the thermostat on the wall. It wasn’t cold in the room, so he assumed her tremor was one of excitement, and a thrill shot through him at yet another validation of her being happy to follow the orders he enjoyed giving.

  They’d had enough conversation about their future to know they both intended to fight for it, but they hadn’t figured out the details yet. She lived at the coast. He lived in Charlotte. On a good traffic day, they were looking at a four and a half-hour trip. His business kept him busy and on the road far more than he liked. She ran a business, as well. His business was established in Charlotte, and while it seemed like a good opportunity for her to move to a large metropolis with unlimited opportunities for an event planner, he wondered if he was selfish to ask.

  And what about the kids? He could never leave Charlotte as long as they lived there, and he couldn’t ask them to uproot their lives. Especially not when their mother lived there as well.

  Fuck. Why did life have to always be so damned complicated and full of twists and curves?

  “Why did I think you would join me on this bed?” Lizbeth asked, breaking into his thoughts and bringing his mind back down from the higher realms of thinking, where plans for the future resided, to the basic, primal thoughts that had propelled men for all of eternity.

  His woman—hell yeah, he could really get used to that—was on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed, waiting for him to claim her, and he was all up in his head when he should be all up in her.

  Shaking off the fear and worry and concern for the future, he pushed out of the chair and stalked toward the bed. “I’m joining you all right.” He slapped his palm over her naked ass, causing her to jump and gasp with surprise, then moan with pleasure as he stroked the silky smooth globe. “Stay as you are and let me enjoy this view for a moment longer while I grab some toys.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lizbeth shivered with nervous excitement and anticipation as Logan crossed the room to the armoire and opened the heavy doors, exposing the treasure trove of toys and leather encased inside. As he trailed his finger along the length of a flogger, an unwelcome knot formed in her stomach, and the more she fought against it, the tighter its stranglehold became.

  She’d been mostly able to block thoughts of his life with Bobbi Jo, but as he caressed the ends of the leather and she thought of Bobbi Jo pleasing him the way Lizbeth should’ve all those years… well, it brought her to her knees.

  Uncomfortable with her vulnerable position, as well as the thoughts swirling through her mind, chopping her heart to bits, Lizbeth leaned to the side and sat on the bed. She bent her leg and drew one knee close so she could rest her chin on it, then brought the other leg around to curl into a ball.

  Catching her movement from the corner of his eye, Logan frowned and walked back to the bed empty handed. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  She’d never been embarrassed by the games they played or afraid to talk to him about anything, but letting him into this part of her mind was scary. She supposed it was natural to occasionally think about the things he did with Bobbie Jo, but she didn’t like going there, and she definitely didn’t want to confess her thoughts to Logan.

  Skirting around the issue, she said, “I was wondering how you know so much about the floggers?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the tips of his fingers up and down her bent leg. His eyes were soft and warm,
as his gaze followed the path of his fingers up to her knee, down to her hip. He seemed to be carefully considering his words, and the knot in her stomach crawled up to her throat as she prepared herself for his answer.

  “I have a brother who lives and breathes this shit.”

  The answer wasn’t what she expected, and it took her a minute to catch up. Forcing a smile she didn’t feel onto her lips, she said, “Just because you’re identical twins doesn’t mean you know everything he does.”

  He continued to gently stroke her leg, but his eyes moved up to her face and studied her. She wanted to squirm under the close scrutiny but somehow managed to stay still while waiting for him to confirm her worst fears.

  Even though they hadn’t named it, he’d been a Dominant before his marriage, so it made sense for him to continue down that path like Lucas. But she and Logan started exploring this lifestyle together, and he was hers, dammit.

  Sliding his fingers from her leg to her arm, Logan trailed a path over her elbow to her wrist, then took her hand in his and brought her fingers to his lips. He kissed the tip of each one before tucking her hand into his and holding her tight. “Ask me what you really want to know, Lizbeth.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her forehead to her knee. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t really want to know, but my mind won’t stop taking me places I don’t want to go.”

  When he didn’t say anything, only continued to sweep his thumb back and forth across her wrist while holding her hand, she swallowed the ache in her throat and said, “I was thinking about the games we used to play and how you and Lucas compared notes back in college.” His eyebrows rose, and she laughed at his attempt to play dumb… or innocent, of which he was neither. “C’mon, you guys talked about everything. I would’ve been an idiot to think otherwise.”