Behind the Plaid (21 page)

Logan turned around, his gaze raking hotly over my nude form. He wanted to watch me. A man of his caliber had probably pleasured hundreds of women and I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that I wasn’t the first one he would have commanded to touch
herself. What if I did it wrong? There was every possibility that I wouldn’t touch myself in the way he wanted, make the right sounds, faces. I was worried about him observing me in one of the most intimate acts a person could perform. Self pleasure.

There was no backing out. No running. Logan stalked the bed, a grin of awareness playing on his lips.
Again I was struck with awe. How was it possible that he’d taken an interest in me? That I’d come here? Traveling through time I could have fallen anywhere, could be stuck in a dungeon, could have been killed. And yet, I was lying naked in bed with the most handsome, arousing man gazing at me like I was the most important, desirous woman.

That was how
I felt. Feminine. Wanted. Needed.

“Emma,” he said, coming closer. “Touch your breast.”

I obediently placed my hand on my breast, not giving in to the embarrassment that pushed to the surface. It was a battle. My breathing quickened, my chest rising and falling. My hardened nipple pressed to the middle of my palm.

“The other one
, too.”

I did as he said, even taking the initiative to knead them. I gasped, surprised with how much I
enjoyed it. I’d never played with my breasts before. Never needed to. But with Logan gazing at me, eyes filled with wickedness, hot sensation whipped through me, and an erotic pull tugged at my core with each stroke.

“Pinch your nipples,” he said, his knees knocking into the mattress.

I did it. Cried out with the shock of it.

“Ye liked that?” he asked, grinning wide. “Do it again.”

I rolled my nipples between my fingers, surprised that it felt better with every second that passed. Logan sat down on the bed beside me, placing his warm hand on my thigh. He leaned forward, nuzzled my breasts and when I moved to pull my hands away, he shook his head.

“No. Dinna stop.” As I played with my nipples, his stroked his tongue over my fingers, licking between them. The tip of his tongue seared the flesh of my breast. He teased, taunted. Flicked his tongue over my nipple. And I kneaded, plucked, gasped. My entire body
sang with pleasure. My toes curled, legs shook. I wanted him sitting between my thighs, not on the side.

Logan went back and forth from breast to breast with his mouth. He held himself up with one hand, the other massaged my thigh.
I writhed beneath his touch and my own, not thinking it could get any better than it was. But then it did. He removed his hand from my thigh, took one of my hands and slid it down over my belly. Goosebumps followed the path, igniting my skin to a fever pitch. Sweat trickled along my brow, beaded above my upper lip, gathered along my spine. The room was warm, but it was Logan’s touch that had me blazing hot.

He leaned up, his eyelids heavy. “Your body is beautiful. And ’tis yours.”

“I want it to be yours.”

Logan grinned and winked. “But first it must be yours.”
He swirled his fingers around my navel. “A woman’s belly is so sensitive. The slightest touch can set her to quivering.”

I
exhaled as he lightly stroked and tickled my skin. Nipples ached for him to touch them.

“When ye touch yourself… Dinna think to only touch your cunny.” He cupped my sex and my hips bucked, leaping me a good couple inches from the mattress.

“I won’t be able to touch myself the way you do,” I said, my voice shaky.

“Try it.” He removed his hands.

Tentatively I put my hands on my belly. I quivered at my own touch. Gently I stroked up and down, scraped my nails lightly, and blew out a slow breath.

“That’s it, lass,” he crooned. “Dinna forget your hips, thighs.” His fingers moved over
my hips, swirling circles on the way to my thighs.

I followed his path, running the backs of my nails over my hips, then sinking my fingers into the muscles of my thighs. My head fell back in pleasure. I’d never thought to touch myself anywhere but between my
legs. If touching my breasts and receiving pleasure was a surprise, then gaining bliss from stroking my own hips and thighs was a complete shock.

“Ye should love your body. Worship it. Make love to it.” Logan was deadly serious, his words spoken softly but firmly and his brogue stroking a path over my mind just as his fingers stroked over my body.

Kissing his way up my neck to my lips, he breathed the words, “Touch your cunny.”

I shuddered deeply. The way he talked dirty to me, the images that floated in my mind, his breath tickling my skin
, took the wind from me. He kissed me, taking possession of my mouth. I couldn’t think for a moment. Logan surrounded me claiming even my soul. His tongue stroked, teased, and it was all I could do to stay conscious.

“Emma… Touch your cunny,” he demanded.

I slipped my fingers between my thighs. I was drenched, hot. Liquid slicked on my fingertips, my skin pulsed, my clit throbbed.

“Oh, God,” I gasped.

Logan sucked my lower lip into his mouth. “Oh, aye,” he murmured back.

His fingers followed mine, slipping together in my juices as I stroked my lips, rubbing my clit in a little circle.
Arrows of pleasure shot outward making me shake and yet I was boneless. Logan had started something inside me I wasn’t strong enough to stop. Had no interest in stopping whatever roller coaster we’d jumped on. I was hurtling through the air, exhilaration filling my blood. Adrenaline pumping. We were on a riveting ride that I never wanted to end.

My hips bucked upward. I wanted him inside me so bad. And then I knew a way to get at least part of him there. I skimmed a hand between my lips to my opening. Naturally, Logan followed. I pushed
his finger inside me, with my pointer finger. Filling myself with both of us. A low guttural moan escaped me, answered by his feral growl. That was so freaking hot. My entire body shook and pulsed. Fiery zings blasted from my core, shimmering outward, bringing me so close to the edge. The pleasure was unimaginable, delicious, addictive. I didn’t want it to end, and yet, I was on the brink of shattering. My sex tightened around our fingers. I was going to come.

“Hold on, lass, not yet,”
Logan whispered against my ear.

But then he bit my lobe, tugging on it and sending another frisson of fierce wanting to radiate through me. My hips rocked back and forth as I actively fucked our fingers. God, I was so hot, so desperate for release and yet didn’t want to disappoint him, never wanted it to end.

Logan slipped his finger from inside me. I whimpered my protest. Tugging on my lobe, he pushed my middle finger inside me, then my ring finger so I filled myself with three, stretching. The tremors inside me quickened, spiraling me into another realm. I was so close. So very close.

“Oh, Logan, I never—” I gasped unable to finish as he manipulated my hand so that my fingers pushed in an out. He captured a nipple between his teeth, applying gentle pressure. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

“There’s no such thing as never.” His voice vibrated against my breast as he sucked and teethed.

“I want to come.” Somehow I managed to say it, even as my breath hitched.

“Come where?” he asked, his mouth traveling south, tongue dipping into my navel.

“T-to orgasm.”

“Orgasm?”

W
ere the terms not in use? I didn’t know. Wouldn’t have. Couldn’t even contemplate.

“Finish me,” I demanded.

Logan chuckled.

“Finish yourself.” With his command, he bit my hip, let go of my hand.

I didn’t still. I listened. Drove my fingers deep. In and out. Used my other hand to rub my clit. Circle, circle, circle. My cheeks where hot. Blood pumped loud in my ears. Logan moved between my thighs, dipped low. Then his tongue flicked over my clit, between my fingers, as I stroked myself. That was all it took. I shattered. Exploded. Back arched, hips thrust up. Fingers moving at a furious pace. Died and gone to heaven. I shrieked. Called out his name.

“Aye, that’s it, come for me.”
He spread my thighs wide, his tongue pushing into my slit to tease my fingers. “Good, God, lass, ye taste so good.”

The tremors of my orgasm did not subside, they only bu
ilt. I was going to come again.

“Again,” I moaned.

“Aye, again,” he answered.

Once more I pulsed, juices slicking around my fingers, body pulsating in its own magical rhythm. Logan lapped at me,
flicked his tongue, made my orgasm even stronger.

“Yes!” I cried.

His hands pressed to the inside of my thighs, he licked me until it was painful, my over-sensitized flesh unable to take anymore.

“Stop, please,” I whispered, my fingers trapped beneath his face.

Logan chuckled and tilted up to look at me. “Had enough, already?”

I smiled. “
I can’t seem to get enough of you.” I couldn’t believe the words actually came out of my mouth.

“Then why did ye tell me to stop?”

“I—I…” I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m only teasing ye, lass.” Logan gently pulled my hands away from between my thighs. Licked my fingers clean. “Ye did verra well. Verra, verra well. Watching your face as ye moaned, pleasure clouding your eyes. My fingers inside ye. Your fingers inside ye… Och,” he sighed. “I have fallen under your spell.”

With him kneeling between my thighs, I hooked my legs behind him. “I want to pleasure you, too.”

“That will come in time.”

“Why not now?” I pouted, leaned up on an elbow and stroked my hand down his chest, feeling his muscles rippled. I gripped his belt. “Just a little bit?” God, I’d never been so forward, but the way he made me feel…was powerful. Like I could do anything, be this woman who was desired and wanted in return.

Logan gripped my wrist, stilling my movements. His jaw muscle flexed. “Not now.”

“You don’t desire my touch?” I had thought he was only playing hard to get, but doubts which used to fill my mind once more took over. Perhaps that wasn’t it at all. Perhaps he just didn’t want me to touch him, pleasure him. Maybe he didn’t think I could. And he might be right. I’d not pleasured a man before, and Steven was plenty derogatory in his comments regarding my skill.

Logan growled, his grip on my wrist tightening. He shoved my hand low, filling my palm with his rigid flesh. I wanted to flip up his kilt and touch his hot
skin. He was huge. Hard. I swore I could feel him pulsing. Feel the blood rushing to his cock, filling him. “Ye, I think I dinna desire ye? Feel my desire.”

“I can feel it.” My voice was shaky.

“What do ye feel?”

“I feel your…”

“Say it.”

I’d never said the word aloud. At least not to a man. “I feel your cock.”

“Is it hard?”

I nodded.

“Say it.”

“Your cock is hard.”

“Hard for ye, Emma. Because I want ye. I want ye so bad, I canna breathe without your name on my lips. Your face floating behind my eyes.” His gaze locked on mine, grave. He told the truth, and it was a truth that rocked me to the core.

“Then why?” I asked, holding his stare, wanting but not daring to stroke him.

“Because.” I could sense he struggled with something inside.

If only I had the skill to pull it
from him. “Tell me.” This time I squeezed him. He hissed, his eyes rolling a little and his cock jumped in my hand. My cunny, as he called it, quivered and sparks of need flared once more.

“Because, Emma, ye are not ready yet.” Logan pulled away, his face clouding. He stepped off the bed.

I’d heard his words, and there might have been some credence to it, but there was so much more behind them.
Logan
wasn’t ready. That was what kept him from making love to me. I knew he was controlling. Knew he had dark secrets. But looking at him now as he walked away from me, I had the deep realization that I was not the only one who needed healing. Logan did too. And I was bringing that healing. By having me here, by connecting with me, by giving me lessons in pleasure and building me up inside, he was also healing himself.

My eyes widened, and I sat up, legs crossed, arms over my breasts. “Logan, wait. D
on’t leave.”

He turned around, the darkness in his eyes heavy. He had much on his mind. “I have to.”

I couldn’t hold him here. He needed to exorcise his demons as I’d obviously rocked something deep in his soul. “When will I see you again?” I hoped I didn’t sound desperate. I didn’t want him to leave even if I understood it. I already felt colder with him halfway to the door.

Logan came back to me, stroked my cheek and pressed a tender kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

I nodded, leaned into his touch. Turned my head to kiss his palm. He would return to me soon. Whether that meant in the middle of the night while I slept, in the morning to share sloppy porridge, or for dinner, I didn’t know. And I didn’t want to ask. Afraid he might push me away.