Royally Endowed(57)

He moves forward slowly, steady and unyielding. And then Logan is sliding inside me. More, more, impossibly long. There’s a dull pinch as I stretch around him, until all of him is buried within me—deep and full—and the wisps of his pubic hair tickle the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

I feel so full. Complete. I squeeze my muscles, clench my pussy hard, just to feel more of him deep inside.

His arms are contracted tight under my hands, his breath brushes against my lips, his forehead rests against mine. “Ellie,” he whispers, and no word has ever sounded sweeter. “Ellie . . . Ellie . . .”

We kiss roughly, my tongue invades his mouth, caressing his, licking, searching inside. Logan’s hips pull back and his cock retreats just a little, then he slides back and we moan together, greedy for the friction. He pulls back again, farther, withholding more—then thrusts back in, harder. Needier.

And the rhythm starts. Over and over—it’s the wet slide of his cock, my clasping squeeze, and the deep, harsh push back in.

This. Always this. It’s more than I dreamed, better than I fantasized. It’s hard and full and perfect, and I want to live the rest of my life with Logan’s hard cock buried deep inside me.

Pounding against me. Ramming inside me.

Fucking me, needing me, loving me.

His hips circle between my legs, twisting as he thrusts, dragging his pelvis across my clit. And the pressure, the tension, builds between my legs.

“Don’t stop! Oh God, more . . . more . . . fuck . . .”

I bite his neck, his earlobe—for real, not gently. Because it’s so good. Because if I don’t, I’ll scream the goddamn house down.

I feel his big hand covers my breast, squeezing greedily and the snap of his hips between my legs. It’s wild and untamed and raw. We move, grinding against each other without thought. It looks like fucking, sounds like rutting . . . and feels like making love.

I hold his face in my hands, kiss his open mouth and inhale the air he expels.

“Come inside me, Logan.”

My plea tears a moan out of him, low and long against my shoulder. And he thrusts so hard, my head jerks back.

“Come inside me.” I slide my hands through his hair, down his spine, under his shirt, caressing his skin, clinging to him. “I want to feel it, feel you.” And then I’m chanting, “Please . . . please . . . please . . . please.”

I’m right there, right on the edge—I tilt my hips, reaching for it, pleasure coiling inside me, waiting to explode.

“Please . . . please . . . Logan . . .”

I sob his name and my head tilts back against the wall as stars burst behind my eyelids. My legs lock around him and I squeeze everywhere, coming and coming . . .

Logan thrusts one last time and groans against my skin. I feel the pulse of his cock, the hot rush of his fluid and, fuck, it makes me come even harder.

What seems like minutes later, after the grip of our orgasm settles into loose-limbed intoxication, Logan lifts his head and guides my lips to his. And his kiss is tender and soft. His knuckles brush my cheeks, caressing like I’m fragile. Made of glass. Gently, he slips out of me and lowers my legs to the floor.

I lean against Logan, on knees of Jell-O. Without a word, I unbutton his shirt and tug it from his shoulders, because I want to see him. I want to enjoy every inch of this beautiful body. And he wants me to. It’s there in the smile that plays at his lips and his heavy-lidded, amused expression.

Once I free him from his clothes, he lowers to his knees. Then kisses between my breasts, his lips trailing down my stomach, he slides the ruined slip to the floor.

Flashing a sexy grin, he stands, scoops me up and carries me to the bed.

And there, like he promised . . . Logan gives it to me sweet.





AFTER OUR EXERTIONS AGAINST THE wall, and the bed, Ellie and I enjoy a shower together.

She’s very pretty when she’s wet.

I wash her hair, rubbing her scalp, tilting her head back when I rinse the shampoo out, making her lovely little tits rise for my waiting mouth. And those beauties taste every bit as good as they look.

Then I wash Ellie everywhere else, massaging her legs and back to keep her from aching tomorrow. I kiss her forehead and she smiles up at me like I’m the king of the fucking world. Her world.

After wanting her so much, for so long, the feeling of her tight, slick and hot around me made me lose my mind for a bit. But in the soothing calm of the shower, I ask her what I should’ve asked her about before—birth control. It’s my job to keep her safe in every way, and I feel like a tool for being so reckless.

Ellie tells me she’s been on the pill for years. Girl issues, she says with unusual shyness.

And I’m glad for it—I like feeling her bare, nothing between us, flesh to flesh.