Page 45 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)
MILLIE
L ogan’s hand pauses its ministrations on his beautiful cock, and I hear him mutter a curse I know he didn’t mean for me to hear. Suddenly, the camera flickers, and I’m met with his handsome face again. Only this time, it’s a lot less cocky, his cheeks flushed, eyes wide.
“Logan,” I say, biting back a smile. “Why do you have one of my scrunchies around your wrist?”
He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, forehead wrinkled in thought as he seemingly considers his response. He’s so flustered, I almost laugh, but he’s so damn adorable. I don’t care that he has it. I’m just genuinely curious because I haven’t seen that scrunchie in forever.
“You dropped it,” he says quietly, not looking at me. “That day outside my apartment. When you… left.”
My lips part on a soft gasp. He’s right.
“I found it on the ground and I kept it.” His gaze lifts, meeting mine, a sheepish look in his eyes. “I wear it when I play…” His face twists with uncertainty. “Is that weird?”
I shake my head, emotion wrapping around my heart and squeezing it tight.
“I usually take it off and hide it in my hockey bag, but I-I must’ve forgot tonight.” He presses his lips together in a wry grin, shrugging a shoulder.
The fact that he not only kept my scrunchie this whole time, but that he wears it when he plays hockey—my heart has never felt so complete. “God, I love you.”
“You own me, Red,” Logan whispers. “You fucking own me.”
And I can tell by the husk in his voice, by the pull in his shoulder, that he’s touching himself again, and my pussy throbs.
“I wanna see your cock again,” I practically mewl.
“Not until I see you.” He grins, biting down on his bottom lip.
“See me?” My brow furrows. “I’m right here.”
“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head. “I wanna see you, baby. All of you.”
It’s the low growl in his voice that does it for me. It, combined with the heated look in his gaze that I feel even through the phone.
I place the phone onto the small wooden stool I sat next to the bathtub, resting it against the jar of Nutella I was eating when he called me.
Pulling myself onto my knees, my upper body rising out of the water, I make sure the camera is angled to capture as much of me as I can offer him.
And, judging by the look in his eyes, he can see it all.
“Better?”
“Fuck yeah,” Logan rasps.
With a coy smile, I drag my hands up my sides, bringing bubbles up from the water and coating my skin, cupping my breasts.
“Play with your nipples.”
I giggle, feeling my cheeks heat beneath the weight of his stare, but doing exactly what he says. Drawing circles around my pebbled nipples, I roll them between my fingers and pinch, tugging on them and feeling it in my core.
“Look at you, baby. ”
Between the husk in his voice, the reverence in his eyes, and the ache in my pussy, I can’t contain my own whimper.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”
“I wanna see you,” I urge with a moan. “I wanna see you fist that big, fat cock.”
Logan grins, and it’s devious. And then the camera flips and gives me exactly what I want, his hand wrapped around his beautiful thick shaft, working it with slow, measured strokes, twisting, up and down and over the flared head, collecting the bead of liquid that, even from across the country, makes my mouth water with the need to taste him.
“Yes,” I whisper, twisting my peaked nipples until it’s so good it almost hurts but in the best way.
“Touch your pussy, baby,” Logan grunts out. And the fact that I can’t see his face, only his hand jerking his cock, heightens my senses, adding to the already erotic sensation.
Watching him pump his dick, I slide one hand down my stomach and into the warm water, tentatively skating over my pussy. While playing with my nipple, I slip a finger between my folds, gasping at how slick I am. When I graze my swollen clit, I let out a throaty groan, my back arching.
“Jesus, fuck, I need more, Red,” Logan whines. “I wanna see you play with that needy little pussy of mine.”
Panting for breath, I glance around me, getting an idea. Pulling myself up and out of the water, I carefully sit on the side, my feet still in the water, the phone aimed at me from across the tub.
“Can you see me?” I ask, because I can’t fully make myself out on the screen.
“I see you, baby,” Logan coos. “And fuck me you’re a dream come true, Red.”
I grip the edge of the tub, careful not to slip.
“Spread your legs,” Logan directs me.
I do as he says, parting my thighs.
“Now rest one of your feet up on the other side of the tub for leverage,” he says. “And be careful baby. The last thing I want is for my girl to get hurt.”
I stretch my right leg up, resting my foot on the opposite edge of the tub, and he groans, the speed of his hand increasing as he pumps. And I know I’m fully open to him, know he can see everything, but I fucking love it. I’ve never felt so sexy, so wanted, so powerful.
“Now you show me how much you love me by making that pussy come, baby,” Logan grits out.
I glide my finger up and down my wet slit, flicking my clit with every pass, and fuck, I’m already so damn close, I can feel the coil in my belly tightening already.
“Imagine I’m there, sitting in the tub, my head between your thighs, eating that pretty fucking cunt like it’s my last goddamn meal.”
“Ohmygod!” I moan at his filthy words, circling my clit over and over, watching him fuck his hand with fervor. “Logan.”
“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he rasps through heavy, panting breaths. “I wanna see you fuck that tight little hole with your fingers. Pretend it’s my fat cock sliding inside of you where I fucking belong.”
Again, I do as he says, sliding my middle finger inside of me, in and out.
I’m still a little sore after last night and this morning, but it’s a good pain, reminding me that I belong to Logan fucking Cullen, that I’m his.
That he’s ruined me for everyone. That he’s claimed me as his own.
Adding my index finger, the pain subsides, and all I feel is pleasure, needing and wanting more, my hips shifting until I’m practically fucking my own fingers.
“Oh, God. Logan,” I simper, letting go of my breast and dropping my left hand to play with my clit, pressing it firmly.
“Fuck, Red. Look at you taking your fingers so well, fucking yourself like my perfect little slut.”
A cry tears its way up the back of my throat.
“Are you, Red?” he murmurs. “My perfect, filthy little slut ?
I nod frantically. “Yes, yes, yes .”
“Yeah?” he coos. “Is my beautiful little slut gonna come for me?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum, biting down on my bottom lip to stifle my own sounds.
“Slap your clit just like I did this morning.”
I do it, slapping my clit as I finger fuck myself, heat spreading through my body, fire rolling down my spine, stars dotting my vision as I hover right there on the edge.
“Come for me, baby!” Logan grunts. “Scream my fucking name.”
“Logan!” I cry out as my orgasm rips through me almost violently. “Yes, oh my God, fuck, Logan!”
I slip off the edge of the bathtub, falling onto my knees in the water with a splash as I ride out my orgasm, gripping the edge of the tub and fucking myself with everything that I have until I’m a quivering, depleted mess of ragged breaths and jelly limbs.
“Fuck, you’re pretty when you come, Red.”
With heavy-lidded eyes, I watch the screen as I try to collect myself, panting for breath. Logan is still jerking his cock, his movements a little sloppy, frantic, and I can tell he’s barely holding on.
“Come for me, baby,” I plead.
“Where do you want my cum, Red?” he croaks, his throat tight, words gruff.
“On your stomach,” I say breathlessly. “Make a beautiful mess all over yourself so I can see exactly what I’m missing.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, babe,” he grits out. “You ready for me? You ready to see exactly what you do to me, babe?”
“Yes!” I cry, desperate to see him come. “Come, baby. Make that big, beautiful cock explode for me.”
“Fuck!” Logan shouts, and the camera shudders a little, but then I see him lose it, ropes of cum spurting from the head of his thick cock as he works himself through his orgasm, groaning a string of muttered expletives .
He’s still and quiet for a moment, and I know he’s collecting himself. But then his camera flips and I see his gorgeous face, his hazy eyes, flushed cheeks and those beautiful lips I love more than life itself, smirking at me.
“Fuck, Red,” he chokes out, smoothing his mussed hair back from his face. “I’m a fuckin’ mess.”
“Show me,” I beg. “Please?”
With a low chuckle, he turns the phone, showing me the mess of himself splattered over his abs and that dreamy V of his pelvis. He’s a fucking masterpiece.
“Oh, I wish I was there to lick it all up.” I sigh forlornly.
“Chrissake, baby.” Logan groans. “You’re going to be the fucking death of me with a mouth like that.” He turns the camera back to his face, and his eyes sparkle with mirth, lids heavy with exhaustion.
“You should sleep, babe.”
“I need a shower,” he gruffs with a sly smirk. “I’m covered in my own cum. Even my phone has fucking jizz on it.”
I bite back a smug smile.
“I want you in my bed tonight, Red.” Logan’s eyes are serious. “And every night. You sleep in my bed. With me from now on. And when I’m not there, you keep it warm for me, okay baby?”
Is he asking me to…
“Move your shit out of the guest room and into my room. Our room.” He steadies me with an arched brow. “Got it?”
My cheeks heat as my heart dips, a smile ghosting my lips. “Got it.”
“I love you,” Logan whispers.
I close my eyes on a contented sigh. “I love you.”