That knowledge first came to her in one of his sleep-talking confessions, but then he had remarked on it—in great detail—while awake. The way he described it made her feel beautiful, like a work of art.
Eyeing him through her lashes, he reacted as she expected. Logan leaned up enough to doff his shirt. Now with his hands free, he cradled her cheeks. “I wanted tonight to be about you, but damn woman, with that magical fucking mouth of yours that close to my dick, I can’t even think straight. You have three minutes and not a second more.” His gaze heated and darkened. “Then it’s my way.”
Wetness pooled between her legs. She wasn’t sure which contributed more to her anticipation, the thought of his cock in her mouth, or the promise of his words.
They had spoken about rope play, but for Logan, it was much more than casual conversation. January had to admit, the things he described excited her. It was funny how he talked more about it when they were just hanging out than when they were messing around. It was obviously something that held an important place in his life. It sparked something in him that was beautiful and decadent. The way his entire being glowed when he talked about it was a memory she’d treasure.
Lost in her own thoughts, January didn’t notice she had taken a mental vacation until she felt the hot velvet of his dick juxtaposed to the smooth steel of his piercing. Funny how she had unbuttoned his jeans and freed his cock without thought. It was a habit she’d have a hard time breaking. Not really—no Logan, no temptation. She damn sure wasn’t ever putting another cock in her mouth.
“Fuck me.” She fucking loved him, damn it. Not like a little, but full-on ruled by the dick in love. The thought sent ice shards through her blood stream, piercing her heart. How the hell could she consummate the marriage that had to be valid to get her life and Gus’ severed from her parents for good if she felt this way?
“Fuck you is right, and you’ve only got two and half minutes before that happens.”
His voice ripped her from her head, and his words relieved her. She had thought the curse internal but as long as Logan misunderstood it, she could live with that. Staring at his cock shoved all thoughts from her mind but relishing this moment.
January’s tongue barely grazed the silken heat of the head of his cock as she wrapped her tongue around his piercing and gently sucked. Who knew sucking on a piece of damn jewelry could bring her so much pleasure? The heat coiling in her belly demanded she obey and give it what it craved, and with barely two minutes left, she wanted to bring Logan to the ragged edge of ecstasy, at the very least.
Hopefully, he’ll let me finish him off first. Something about the way he devours my mouth after he’s come down my throat just does it for me.
Running her tongue around the heavy gage steel, she dragged the shiny ball to the underside before she swallowed his cock. She’d made the mistake before of not adjusting it and gagged on the piercing. Logan moaned, and she hummed. Smiling and smug, she kicked it into Hoover territory.
Chancing a glance at the man she—yes, I can think it just this once—loved, she was stunned by what she saw. His ragged, choppy breathing led her to believe she would be greeted with a view of his chin and extended neck—head thrown back and ready to come or staring down her spine.
That was when she realized his hands weren’t fisted in her hair guiding her, either. Instead, they were gently resting on her ears with his thumbs stroking her hair lovingly. His eyes weren’t focused on the wiggle of her ass or even the disappearance and reemergence of his cock between her lips.
Logan was staring into her soul, his eyes locked on her with intensity she only witnessed when he talked about Kinbaku. Her heart faltered, and her lips stalled, breaking the spell she had been under and the little control she had over Logan’s body.
Leaning up just enough to get his hands under her arms, Logan grasped her there and rasped, “Time’s up. My turn.” He dragged her up his body. When she was upright on his rock hard abs, he moved his hands to her ass and brought her all the way on top of his face.
She cried out at the first touch of his scorching tongue against her drenched pussy. She was ill-prepared for the force of it and almost fell over before finally gripping the headboard with one hand, the other resting atop it.
Logan’s grip on her ass was punishing. She would definitely have some significant bruising, which just added to her pleasure. In less than a minute, she was riding his face like she rode Demon: fast and loud.
She couldn’t hold out anymore, she wanted to come more than she wanted to breathe. Releasing the headboard, she opted to use her knees for control and guide his head.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she moved his face to the perfect position, using the natural landscape of his features to ratchet up the intensity. When her breath began to lock down, she knew she was about to come. She just need seven more seconds, ten max.
The hands dug into the flesh of her ass eased and disappeared. Just as her orgasm started to toss her about on the waves of ecstasy, Logan’s arms wrapped around her thighs and spread her lips, his tongue punishing her clit.
That action ripped the orgasm from her, and just as it would have receded, his fingers plunged into her and his teeth replaced his tongue, capturing that moment in time and multiplying it. Her orgasm kept going.
With his teeth busy and his fingers curling inside her at a maddening pace, he mumbled against her body, throwing her to another peak, this one even higher. She wasn’t sure if it was the vibration of his words against her body, or what she thought they were, but either way…HOLY SHIT!
Logan was so caught up in the moment, he blurted out what he was feeling right against her wet pussy. Her response damn near had him shooting his load. Not only did he profess his love, there was something about being his and she was his home or something sappy.
When the last of her convulsions had reverberated through her body, January went limp. Catching her handily, Logan slid her down his body. The glide of her wetness was utopic. Nerve endings rapid fired along every inch of his body she slid down. It was a bliss unlike anything he’d experienced.
She was his home, his anchor, his place. Imagining a life without her was untenable. She was his intoxication, his oxygen…shit, I sound like a Bon Jovi song.
Being unsure where the syrup and sap had come from didn’t stop him from meaning every syllable. Logan had never been an emotional guy, not since his dad. That man took a lot from him, including his ability to feel anything but pain…or so he thought.
January had literally given him back the range of human emotions. So much had changed since she came into his life, so much about him even. He saw things differently now. She had basically taken off his hate-colored glasses and allowed him to view things for what they actually were, not what his twisted vision perceived them to be.
“Fucking poetic,” he thought. Logan James Chapman—no dammit, he was taking back his name—Logan James Chotkey wasn’t even slightly poetic. He’s never even been in the same zip code, but here he was—
“What’s poetic?”
Logan meet deer caught in headlight eyes. He had no clue he had spoken the words and now what did he say? He couldn’t tell her he wanted to build a future with her just yet. He needed to get through the family gathering tomorrow and talk to her about Michael and staying when they were clothed.
January had teased him that no serious conversation could take place naked, but after talking to the guys, he wasn’t so sure about that. She believed people said things in the moment that they wouldn’t say otherwise. As a rule, Logan couldn’t disagree with her, but he was different…they were different.
Still, he needed to wait, asking her to be there while he came clean with his brother was a heavy request. Any professions of love made tonight, she would blow off.
But a little truth couldn’t hurt, to test the waters.
Rotating their positions, Logan begin raining kisses on her sweat-slicked skin. “You. You are fucking poetic.” His kisses tur
ned to love bites. “We are fucking poetic.” He paused to suck a rosy nipple into his mouth. January’s moan was music to his ears. “This rack is fucking poetic.” He teased as he squeezed her tits together and licked where they met. “Don’t you agree?”
“About my tits?” she asked while peering down at them. When her eyes rose, there was mischief dancing in them. “I have to agree. They are pretty spectacular.”
Logan’s laugh took him by surprise. When had he ever felt so comfortable with someone that he laughed in bed? He drew his hand away from that perfect rack and cupped her cheeks. “We are so fucking poetic together, it’s unmistakable…we should run off to Vegas and let Elvis marry us.” SHIT! That was too honest. Fuck, I didn’t mean to propose. She will shove me off her body any second now.
January shook with laughter. Logan laughed in relief.
“Oh, my God, you’re a riot.” She adopted a deep voice. “We should run off to Vegas, let Elvis marry us.” Her laughter continued. Most men would have been insulted, but Logan wasn’t. January knew he would never propose in bed.
“That was fucking poetic, don’t you think? But for the record, if I head to Vegas to tie the knot, I’ll find Wayne Newton and let him do the honors.” The time for talk was over; he was fucking it up, anyway. Without hesitation, Logan plunged into her with a moan. He kissed her deeply as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The pace wasn’t frenzied even though he was damn near bursting to come, but he wanted it to last.
January’s whispered words doused his ardor and layered his emotions in desperation. “I’m going to miss you, Logan Chapman. Like you’d never know.”
Logan kept pounding into her body, trying to fuck away her words. “No you won’t, Rabbit.” Logan spoke it as a pledge, a promise he meant to keep. He kissed her before she could respond. She thought he doubted her sincerity and was sure to light him up. It wasn’t her sincerity that caused the unexpected falsehood to fall from her lips, it was facts, plain and simple. She wouldn’t miss him because they weren’t going to be apart.
Ever.
With thoughts of forever usurping his control, Logan felt his orgasm barreling down on him. He was powerless to prolong it. Reaching between where they were intimately connected, he played her body like a master. As she screamed her pleasure into the night, he happily and helplessly followed.
Rolling to the side, Logan dragged January into his body and wound around her. In no time, her soft snores filled the air. Gently, he lifted her injured wrist, and he felt for swelling around her brace or signs he had further injured her. Not that he could fucking tell, but it made him feel good to do it.
The thought of taking care of someone, or hell, even caring for someone in general, always sent him into panic mode. And panic mode always led to flight mode. Somehow, the thought of caring for January had the exact opposite effect on him. As a matter of fact, he felt panic and flight at the idea of not being able to care for her.
The compulsion to wake January and tell her everything and ask her to be by his side when he spoke to his brother was overwhelming. The right thing to do was wait until after the family barbecue, tell her all of the bad first, and then drop his heart at her feet. Easing out of bed in search of his clothes was the right move. If he stayed another minute, he’d do things the wrong way. For once in his life, he cared to do them right.
He stepped into his shoes and worked them onto his feet by shuffling back over to the bed. When he bent to kiss her flushed cheek, something in his pocket poked him, reminding him of its presence. After dropping more than one kiss on her angelic face, Logan extracted the items, deposited them on the bedside table, and left the same way he entered.
He was looking forward to tomorrow, even being surrounded by the sometimes-overbearing Reids. Gatherings were not his thing at all, but here he was, with pep in his step as he headed toward his car. He was even looking forward to unburdening himself to his brother.
Will miracles never cease?
Fourteen
January woke feeling better than she had in a very long time. That was, until that old familiar sense of dread settled over her. Her time in this fantasy was nearing the end, and she’d have to get back to reality soon. “More like head to the executioner.” She cursed aloud, dragging the pillow over her face to scream into. But as she drew in a deep breath, ready to scream like a champ, the scent of Logan filled her lungs.
Normally that smell did things to her she couldn’t explain, but at the moment, it just added to her misery. She was going to have to leave this place…leave him. As much as she wished things could be different, they weren’t. She was a Thorne through-and-through. January Snow Thorne would do her daughterly duty to the monsters who called themselves her parents, and in ten years, when she walked away, she’d pretty much burn the place to the ground.
If she were a dreamer, she would imagine reuniting with Logan just a short decade from now. They could be together, unmistakably so, not just a late night secret.
But she wasn’t a dreamer, not anymore. Augusta was the dreamer of the family now, and January made a commitment to not rob her of that with the ugly truth.
Reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, January’s fingers encountered something familiar and something foreign. She turned on the light and focused on the items there on the scarred wood.
The ring she hadn’t been able to find was resting on top of a folded piece of paper. After sliding the ring on, she unfolded the paper. There in pencil was an elementary check-box note. I like you, do you like me? Check one. There were two crudely drawn boxes with YES and NO below the question. Followed by a heart and the scrawled signature of Logan.
January couldn’t help herself from laughing out loud and tearing up at the same time.
“He remembered.” She held the note to her chest like it was the most precious of documents, and it was. One of the first stories she shared with Logan about herself was how awkward she was growing up and that no boy had ever given her a love note. Not even a silly do you like me one.
Logan had so much more heart than he gave himself credit for. He really was a good person.
Even though today was a bare minimum kind of day, that note put a spring in her step and a smile on her face. January brushed her teeth, her hair, and put on clean underwear; that was it. She had no desire to be all done up for the last hours she had with Logan. He loved the over the top Domino when she was on stage, but he preferred January just as she was when they spent time together. She couldn’t argue with him; she preferred herself that way, too. After brushing her hair, she tied it up in a messy half-ponytail, half-bun, half-down—wait, that’s three halves—look. Her mother would shit a fucking brick if she saw her at a gathering with her hair like that.
Enough about her mother, leaving, and standards she could never live up to. No one except Augusta knew she would be leaving Sunday night, and she was bound to secrecy by the sister code. She wasn’t happy about it; she had made that perfectly clear, however, Gus was a speak your mind kind of gal and then let it go.
Even her parents didn’t know. January had successfully averted the answer for weeks, then the last few, she didn’t even bother texting or calling back. Speaking to her mother right now was a mouthful of glass she’d have to swallow, which she preferred to delay as long as she could.
Deciding to focus on things other than swallowing glass and talking to her mother, January took a deep, cleansing breath and went in search of the action.
Half of the Reid clan had arrived and were milling about the kitchen and back patio. Francis, Gus, and Erika were busying themselves in the kitchen. Not that much was left to do; it was more of the way they did things that had them preparing, reheating, and rearranging food.
Francis caught sight of her first. “How’s the wrist, sweetheart?” January held her ace-wrapped wrist up for inspection, flexing it to drive home her point. She’d ditched the rigid brace.
“Good as new. Almost as if it never even happened.” Dropping her
hand, January strolled into the kitchen and snagged a carrot from the salad. Between crunches, she added, “See, I told you I didn’t need to go to the ER. I just needed a muscle relaxer and a wrap.”
Francis turned, grabbed January by her biceps, and pressed a kiss into her cheek. “Always better safe than sorry with my girls.” Francis’ inclusion of her as one of hers had barely settled in her brain when Erika piped up.
“Ha. We’ve gotten the “Mom” treatment for years. It’s your turn. Besides, I won ten bucks.”
With feigned outrage, January adopted a saucy stance. “How could you bet on my physical well-being?” Of course, she knew there was a betting pool. They had them on everything. She really didn’t mind. It was kind of endearing, and she was even in a few.
Gus and Erika laughed it up as they each grabbed a dish of food and headed toward the back. As soon as they were out of earshot, Francis commanded her attention. Even at a whisper, the woman was comforting and intimidating at the same time.
“January, have you decided what you’re going to do yet? That boy out there deserves this, and shoot, honey, so do you, but you’re both so twisted up, y’all are about to lose that opportunity.”
Francis’ words caused her head to snap toward the slider. There he was, the man who made her heart flutter and soaked her boy-shorts. January’s disappointment had almost crushed her when she didn’t see him milling about with the rest of the Reids at first, but instead, he was simply outside chatting up Michael and Tori.
Francis was still talking about young love and missed opportunities when January noted how Walker and Frank were eyeballing them but purposefully not getting involved the conversation. Almost like…
Gasping, she slapped her hands over her mouth.
“What in the world has gotten into you?” Francis followed her line of sight.
January felt the weight of Francis’ stare. When she averted her attention from Logan, the smirk on the older lady’s face threw her for a loop. To eliminate any doubt that Francis’ mojo was real, she spoke.
Unmistakably Us (Imagine Ink Book 5) Page 15
