Page 111 of Riding the Sugar High

“Look at the size of me, Barbie. If Ijust fuck you, I break you,” he says softly. It makes me clench around him, which should be a clear sign of how much Iwanthim to break me. “Let me get you ready.”

I nod, biting my bottom lip as his fingers push and pull, stretch and curl. My hips grind, roll, an orgasm orbiting closer and closer, until short of begging, I look into his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes out. He stands and shucks off his jeans, then folds my legs up so they’re against my chest. “Shit,” he says with wide eyes as he meets my gaze. “I don’t have condoms.”

“I’ve been tested after Derek.”

He swallows. “So have I after...my ex.”

I give him an encouraging nod, my heart thrumming as he drags the tip of his cock along my entrance. He rubs it up and down, his eyes rolling back. “Fuck, Barbie. If you come on my bike, you’re mine. Do you understand?”

I feel his tip against me, and breath catching, I nod.

“I want to hear you say it. Say you understand that if I fuck my backpack on my bike, I’m not sharing it.” He teases my entrance but doesn’t push. “You’reonlymine.”

“Whose else would I be?” I whisper. It might not be the right thing to say, but it’s the truth, and it makes his eyes grow darker as he stares down at me. “I’m already only yours.”

With a deep groan, he pushes against the resistance of my muscles. I gasp, stretching around him as the sting makes way for pleasure, and inch after slow, painless inch, he buries himself inside me.

“Oh...my...god...” I breathe. I clench around him, over and over again, as his eyes flutter.

“Stop—stop doing—oh, that.”

“I can’t help it,” I squeak. I really can’t. I feel everything. Every inch of him, every twitch, every pulse. My fingers are buried in his muscular arms, my eyes lost in his. “You’re huge.”

His lips are parted, his brows bent. He halts, letting me adjust to him, then begins gently rocking into me. Within a handful of seconds, he moans and drops his face to mine, forehead to forehead. “God, Primrose. You keep squeezing me like that, and I’ll embarrass myself.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. It’s hard to talk, hard to focus on anything at all but the feeling of him inside me. It’s better than anything I’ve ever experienced. “It’s perfect.”

“Can you take more?”

“More! There’s more?”

He nods, eyes closed as if he’s trying his best to restrain himself. “Yeah. There’s more.”

Holy shit. I look down, but I can’t see just how much we’re talking about.

“Yes, I can.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, but even before I answer I feel him slide a bit deeper, his lips twisting before his jaw sets. “God, yes. Sorry. It feels so good—you. You feel...” His breath shakes out of his lips. “I fit so well inside you, Barbie.”

I wrap my legs around his ass, pulling him until he’s to the hilt. Until I can’t imagine myself without Logan pressed on top of me.

“Primrose.” He grits his teeth hard and sets a rhythm that evolves from stuttering to smooth and has me mewling and arching and whimpering on his bike. I can’t imagine we’ll be able to fully let ourselves go, not on here, not as hard as either of us needs, but he surprises me as he says, “I’m really going to fuck you now. Okay?”

I can barely nod.

His pace picks up, and every time he rubs that spot inside me, I moan louder. It doesn’t hurt at all; it’s euphoric. The highest I’ve ever felt. Better than all the sugar in this world.

“You can’t feel this good, Barbie. It’s not”—his eyes roll to the back of his head—“oh,shit, it’s not possible.”

I scratch at his arms, my knees hitting my boobs every time he pushes forward. He’s got me all folded up for him, and watching his expression break every time he sinks inside makes me feel so powerful.

He needs me. He’s trying so hard, the veins in his neck are strained against the reddened skin, but he needs to come, and I can help him.

“Come,” I whisper through another push. His eyes meet mine in an expression that’s half anguish and half delight. “Let yourself go, Logan.”

“No, I can do it.” He pulls back, then in again, his hands squeezing the bike seat on either side of my face. “I can do it. I can do it.” At the next push, he grimaces, shaking his head. “I can’t do it.”