Page 80 of Logan

“I want to fuck your tits.”

Her eyes flutter open, heavy with desire and confusion.

“Do you agree to let me fuck your tits?” I massage herbreasts with my hands, pressing them together and examining the deep line between them.

“That sounds good,” she whispers.

I smile and position myself over her, one knee on either side, careful not to lean my weight on her. “Hold your breasts together,” I request, and she obeys, pushing with her palms. “Oh fuck, this is perfect.”

I push my dick between them, my eyes fixed on the stunning sight of it disappearing between the two mounds. “You’re beautiful.”

I pull back and thrust again, a guttural moan escaping my lips.

I thrust again, watching the swollen tip of my cock emerge from the other side of her tits. Sloane lifts her head, watching me, then her gaze locks on the erotic sight of the tip of my cock.

I play with each nipple, pinching, twisting—responding to her moans—until she cries, closing her eyes, and when my name bursts from her lips, I climax in violent pulses, covering the valley between her breasts in cum.

“Thank you for having us over,” I say, extending my hand to Wolfson, but he pulls me into a hug, patting my back.

God. He’s one of those.

“Valentina, you look fabulous.” Sloane smiles, and they embrace like old friends.

“So do you. Your dress is stunning. Versace?”

“Haha.” Sloane chuckles. “I couldn’t afford that.”

“Wait.” Valentina places a hand on her chest. “He doesn’t pay for your dresses?” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Oh, you poor thing. Is he stingy?”

Fuck. I glance at Wolfson. The contracts are still with the lawyers. One phone call and it’s all canceled. How did I not think about the dress? I should have bought her one. It’s not like me to miss little details. A stupid rookie mistake, and I’m no rookie. “I’m not cheap.”

“No, of course, he’s not,” Sloane gives me a look and smiles, then leans in to whisper to Valentina. “But he has terrible taste in clothes. Don’t ask, we had an awful fight.”

Valentina’s eyes widen.

Mine too.

“You have to tell me everything.” Valentina links her arm with Sloane’s, and they move inside. “What did he do?”

I maintain a reasonable distance, ready to jump in at any moment to salvage the situation. What is she going to tell her? I can’t believe I might lose this deal over a fucking dress.

We settle in the living room, and I take in the surroundings. Cream-colored sofas with floral cushions. Art on the walls. No doubt who rules this house.

Wolfson pours from the whiskey bottle on the table into glasses and hands me one. He tilts his head to Valentina.

Valentina waves her hand. “Better not. I get drunk so easily. It’s terrible. Sloane, tell me what he did. I’m dying of curiosity here.”

Me too.

“He bought me a yellow dress. Can you imagine? Yellow. With my skin tone? I’d look sick.” Sloane waves her arms dramatically, sending me an amused look.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, he only has one standard for clothes. As long as they show off my tits.” Sloane laughs out loud. “He wanted me to wear that hideous thing, and I told him to go fuck himself.”

I snort.

“Sounds like your girl has an issue with your taste.” Wolfson smirks at me.