His laugh is low and rough. "Bossy. I like that."
Logan's mouth crushes against mine again, hot and demanding. His hands slide down to the ties of my polka-dot bikini top, fingers grazing the sides of my breasts, and when he pulls back to look at me, eyes dark and questioning, I nod hard.
The top falls away, and his sharp intake of breath ghosts over my nipples.
"Jesus, Hannah. You're so fucking beautiful."
His big palms cover my breasts, fingers dragging deliciously over the sensitive tips as he thumbs my nipples, rolling and pinching just enough to make me arch into his touch with a sound I barely recognize as mine.
Everything in my body wakes up at once, nipples tightening, core clenching, all focused on the places where he's touching me.
He guides me down onto the towel, sand shifting cool and gritty beneath it. His mouth is everywhere—teeth scraping my neck, tongue dragging across my collarbone, sucking hard at that spot just below my ear that makes my thighs twitch, and whimpers slip free.
When he takes one nipple into his mouth, hot and wet and pulling, my back bows off the sand, fingers fisting in his thick black hair as a jolt of pure lust races through me.
"You like that?"
"Yes. God, yes."
His mouth latches onto the other nipple, rolling it between his lips. His hands work at the ties of my bikini bottoms, knuckles brushing my hips. I lift up helpfully, hips pushing toward him without shame. The fabric slides away, and the night breeze kisses my bare, drenched pussy, but it doesn't cool anything.
I'm burning everywhere, nerves lit up and screaming for more.
Logan sits back on his heels, jeans still on, and just drinks me in, spread out naked and wanting on the towel under him. The hunger in his eyes makes my inner walls pulse.
"Jesus, the way you look," his voice now gravelly with want. "Perfect. So fucking perfect."
His hands skim up my thighs, rough palms parting me wider, and I don't even think. I just spread for him, knees falling open. When his fingers slide through my wetness, parting my folds, I let out a low, long moan.
"You're soaked." He circles my clit with one finger, light and teasing, spreading my own arousal in slow, torturous strokes.
"Yes," I hiss, hips jerking up when he presses harder, firmer, the pad of his finger gliding perfectly.
He works me with those knowing fingers, two of them now dipping just inside, curling, building that tight coil of heat until I'm panting and squirming, chasing the edge. Just when I thinkI'm going to break from the teasing, he shifts down my body, his stubble scraping over my belly, and his mouth lands right where his fingers were.
The first hot, flat stroke of his tongue makes me cry out, hips bucking hard off the towel. He pins me with one hand splayed across my lower belly, the weight and control in that gesture sending fresh slickness flooding out of me. The heel of his palm pushes against my pubic bone, pushing my skin, exposing and raising my clit. Logan drags his tongue along my slit before he focuses on my sensitive nub, sucking lightly while two fingers thrust in deep, filling me.
"Logan, I-I?—"
The orgasm hits, my thighs clamping around his head, nails digging into his shoulders as I grind against his mouth shamelessly. Pleasure pulses through me in hot, wet waves, the taste of salt on my lips.
He kisses his way back up while I'm still trembling and gasping, mouth shiny. When he reaches mine, I can taste myself on his tongue—musky, intimate, filthy in the best way.
"You taste so fucking good," he says against my lips.
My hands shake as I help shove his jeans down his lean hips. He kicks them free, and I get my first real look at him. Oh, my Lord. Hard, thick, veined, the head already glistening. My mouth goes dry. I reach for him without thinking, fingers wrapping around that hot length, stroking once, twice, marveling at how he twitches in my grip.
"Hannah, if you keep doing that, this is going to be over before it starts."
"Then hurry up."
He chuckles and settles between my spread thighs, the blunt head of his cock nudging at my entrance, parting me. "Look at me," he says, locking eyes with me as he pushes inside.
The stretch burns so good—full, overwhelming, exactly what I've been aching for. It takes him a few seconds, but he eventually bottoms out, hips flush to mine.
God, yes.
"So fucking tight," he growls, forehead pressed to mine, sweat-slick skin sliding.