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|Moonlight on Nightingale Way(On Dublin Street #6)(78) by Samantha Young|
“Loud?” I breathed.
“Loud.” His hand slipped down and he tugged on the hem of my summer dress. “I like this. Ease of access.”
I giggled, the sound cut off when his hand slipped under my dress and into my underwear. I gasped as he brushed his fingers over me before moving them down and then sliding two of them inside of me. He played me like that until I was panting and whispering his name.
“I want you louder than that,” he said, his own breathing coming fast with his increasing arousal.
He removed his fingers and then curled them around the fabric of my underwear and pulled them down. They fell to the floor, and I stepped out of them. “My room?” I said.
“Here. Add to the memories.” His words, the heat of him at my back, the sound of the zipper on his jeans sliding down, sent a bolt of pure lust through me, and my fingers curled into the kitchen counter in front of me with anticipation.
“Spread your legs, babe.”
I whimpered and did as he demanded.
He put his hands on my outer thighs and skimmed his fingertips upward, over my skin, eliciting goose bumps and delicious shivers all over me. He caressed my hips before turning his attention to my bum. His touch was delicate as he smoothed his hands over my cheeks. “I love this arse.”
I jerked in shock at the gentle touch where I’d never been touched before.
Logan pressed a kiss to my jaw. “One day,” he said, his voice dark with promise.
The thought filled me with equal parts trepidation and excitement.
He felt the shudder of thrill that went through me at the thought and he groaned. I felt the heat of his hard cock brushing across my arse, teasing me, tormenting me, as his hands slid out from under my dress to pluck at the buttons down my chest. His fingers were fumbling as his arousal grew.
“Logan,” I begged, as cool air drifted over my chest.
His hands slid under my bra, his fingers and thumbs pinching my nipples. I cried out at the sharp streak of lust that spiked toward my center.
“Please.” I wanted him inside me. I wished he’d stop teasing. “I need you.”
The words were Logan’s undoing. He slammed inside of me, and I keened at the deep invasion, my back bowing with the overwhelming sensation of being filled to full. He slid out a couple of inches and thrust back inside, and I found myself gripping tighter to the counter to steady myself against the force. The kitchen filled with the sound of our heavy breathing, our groans and grunts, the wet slap of flesh as he fucked me, but it wasn’t enough for him. His fingers dug into my hips as he pounded into me from behind, groaning as I pushed back into him in perfect, but rough, rhythm. My panting got louder as he continued to knead my breasts and pinch my nipples.
“Louder, Grace,” he grunted, reminding me I could be.
I let all the “Oh Gods” and whimpers and cries that I’d been holding in out as he played my body toward climax.
“Logan!” I screamed, an orgasm to beat all others exploding through me, my inner muscles squeezing and pulsing around his cock as he continued to ride me to his own climax.
He came with a deep groan, his mouth on my shoulder, his hands gripping my hips even tighter to his as he rocked up into me, shuddering as he came.
My limbs were no longer working. The only thing holding me up was the kitchen counter and the man inside of me.
“Loud enough for you?” I panted, feeling completely spent.
I felt his grin against my skin, and then he touched my chin, turning my head so I could meet his gaze over my shoulder. There was a ferocious hunger there I knew all too well. “Not nearly. And we’ve got all afternoon to blow the roof off this place.”
I shivered at the thought. “You’re insatiable.”
He nodded and pressed his nose against mine. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“You’re blaming me,” I teased. “You’re just randy.”
Logan’s body shook with amusement, the movement causing lovely sensations of friction inside of me. “I wasn’t like this until you.”
I snorted. “I don’t believe that.”
His expression grew serious. “Believe it.”
An excited shiver rippled over me. I was stunned that I made him feel that way. Not knowing how to react, I turned my head to avoid his gaze. His hands now rested on the counter in front of me, barricading me against him and it. My eyes traveled over them and caught on the tattoo on his right forearm. I circled my fingertips over it. “You never said what it means.”
He rested his chin on my shoulder. “Cole gave me it. I asked him for a tattoo and he asked me to trust him enough to choose one for me.” He sighed heavily. “It’s the Celtic symbol for justice.”
A smile pulled at my lips. “He believes you did the right thing by Shannon.”
“He would.” Logan huffed. “Of course he would.”
“He wants you to be at peace with it.” I kissed my fingertips and pressed them to the tattoo. “I knew I liked him.”
“I was pissed at him when he did it.”
“I’m trying to make it fit me.”
I turned my head slightly to lock gazes with him. “You don’t need to try. It already fits.”
His reply was the sweetest kiss anyone had ever given me.
“So I’ve joined the summer program at the library and the summer program at Meadowbank Swim Center,” Maia announced.