Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“Not yet,” he says. “You’re cumming on my cock this time.”
His words send a fresh pulse of excitement through me. I wait, completely deprived of my sight, feeling as though all my remaining senses are on full alert. I hear the rattle of his belt buckle and his zipper dragging down. I hear him dropping clothes to the ground.
“On your hands and knees, now,” he commands.
I obey, getting in position and waiting, still conscious that I have no idea where I am or who could be watching. I’ve put so much trust into him. This time it feels real. It isn’t about pain or submission. He is showing me that I can trust him completely and totally with my life. He’s still showing me that I can trust him. When the head of his cock finds my entrance though, all thoughts of why and how fade into background noise.
There’s only the perfect fullness of him inside me and the slap of his hips against me. My knees dig into the dirt and I squeeze handfuls of grass tightly, letting my head fall so my cheek presses into the chilly ground.
I’m getting closer and closer to climax. It builds with every slap of his skin against mine, every plunge of his length into my wetness. And then without warning, he rips the blindfold from my head. I’m overcome by the sudden brightness of it all. The sun, the mountains stretched ahead of me, the sheer emptiness. I see the thin trail we must have come up and realize I really could have been hurt if I veered too far off the path, but he led me here without incident.
I also see that absolutely nobody is watching. It all comes as such a shock that I feel the building pressure of my orgasm falter. It wavers, suspended, ready to burst, but just out of reach. As if he knows exactly what I need, Logan leans in close until the stubble of his face brushes against my cheek. “You can trust me, Emmaline.”
It’s the first time he has used my name while we’re having sex, and the sound of it threads into me, doing something strange to my emotions, something warm and full and lovely.
“You can trust me,” he repeats, moving himself inside me still, slowly now. Tenderly. “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, Kitten. I would sacrifice everything. I would do anything. Do you believe that?”
“Yes,” I say, letting the note of surprise I feel at my answer slip out. I believe him. “I believe you,” I gasp.
“Then trust me. Give me what you’ve been holding back and I promise you I will never abuse it.”
I stare into the blindingly beautiful sight ahead of me, wrapped in this moment, in these emotions, and still painfully aware of the orgasm threatening to explode within me or slip away, once and for all.
“I trust you,” I say. As if the words were a hidden key, my climax tears through me, breaking free with the force of a tsunami, turning my muscles to jelly.
Logan groans with me, his cock pulsing inside me and filling me to the brim with his hot cum.
“I love you,” he says, voice raspy and heavy.
For once, I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I don’t second guess myself. I just speak, and the words come straight from my heart. Straight from the place of trust I can already feel swelling inside me. “I love you, too.”
21
Logan
I’m at the office, wishing I could relax. I couldn’t have hoped for things with Emmaline to go any better. But I can’t enjoy her the way I want until I find a way to put the shit with Ronnie and Dean to rest. I’m hoping Ronnie’s bullshit will end the moment I get my hands on him. I don’t imagine it will be hard to find some charges to run against him and get him locked up for a while. Dean on the other hand, that is more complicated.
I’ve been locked away in my office all night. I dropped Emmaline off at her place, where I learned her mom is hiding out while Ronnie is still at large. After that, I came straight here to figure out how I’m going to deal with Dean, and I have what I think is the perfect idea.
There’s a soft knock at the door. I jog over and unlock it, letting in a sheepish man. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt and pajama bottoms. His shoulders are bent and narrow from too many years hunched over tax documents and computer screens. You wouldn’t know it from looking at Larry, but he’s the best tax guy in the city.
“Thanks for coming, Larry.”
“Sure,” says Larry, removing his glasses to rub the sleepiness from his eyes. “Any time you need me. Literally, I guess.”