“Depends,” he shrugs. “Beat the shite out of a punching bag, go for a run. Sometimes, if it’s sticking with me too long, I go out and get blootered with my brother and our cousins. Though I hear drinking it all away isn’t a long-term coping mechanism. With you, my bonnie bride? I’m thinking it might help if I brush your hair.”
“What?” My sob comes out as a half chuckle and that’s progress.
Logan’s hazel eyes are warm, and he cups my face like I’m something delicate, kissing me lightly. “I’m gonna put your head on my lap and brush your hair. It’s so long and thick, I’m thinking ye might like that?”
“Um…” I take another tissue from the proffered box. “I remember my ma doing it a few times, when I was younger. But there were too many of us kids for pampering like that. There’s eight of us, if your unnaturally thorough background check dinnae include that.”
He fetches a brush from the bathroom and settles back against the headboard, putting a pillow on his lap. “Lie down, my bride. Let me take care of ye.”
Putting my cheek against the soft cotton, I feel him gently separate my hair, running a brush through the first section. He’s careful, not pulling or yanking on the strands and humming low in his chest.
“The pillow’s here in case my lower half forgets this is a nurturing moment and gets hard. My cock dinnae seem to have any sense of decorum when he’s around ye and I dinnae want him poking a hole in your cheek.”
When I laugh, this time it’s real.
Blootered - Scottish slang for completely shit-faced.
Chapter Twenty
In which there is nothing better than a little early morning conversation.
Arabella…
I’m dreaming of being at school during recess.
One of the students is swinging a stick, poking me in the back with hard, insistent little nudges until I reach back and smack the stick away.
“Shite! Lass, what’s he ever done to deserve this kind of treatment?”
Wide awake, I roll over to see Logan glaring at me, his hand protectively covering his crotch. “I’m sorry! I was dreaming and… sorry. Not intentional, I promise.” Covering my hand to stifle a giggle because this is so not the time for that, I pat his chest gently. “And here ye were so nice to me last night.”
“You’re forgiven,” he says, “though I might be sleeping with a pillow between us, ye Jezebel.”
This just makes me giggle harder and Logan growls, pouncing on me and kissing me. “I’m glad ye think it’s amusing that I’m gonna be walking around with a limp today.”
Arching a haughty brow, I retort, “And isn’t that what ye did to me back in Stockholm, mister?”
“I canna remember. We should recreate it.”
“Well, we’re not shite-faced and there’s no lingerie shop, so there are some key elements missing,” I say teasingly.
WhoamI? So light-hearted and feeling warm and safe like the last four days are gone, just a little blip on the radar of life.
He’s smiling down at me and I’m smiling up at him, then suddenly,my hand’s clutching a fistful of his hair, moaning as his lips move over mine. Sliding just the tip of his tongue between the seam of my lips, he traces my teeth, sliding slickly in and out, in and out, and god, do I hope his dick will be doing just the same thing soon. But my new husband has other plans, and with a wink, he throws my legs over his ridiculously broad shoulders and dives for my center.
“Oh! What areyoudoingsweetbabyjesusthat’s-” I can feel his laughter, muffled against my pussy as he licks and sucks along me, driving his tongue up my channel and then along my lips to latch on to my clitoris, sucking with an enthusiasm that sends me into my first orgasm, legs straight and toes pointing as I gasp.
One thick finger, then another slide inside me with care, gently stroking and scissoring up my passage as he praises me in a flatteringly hoarse voice, “Good girl. Now you’re going to give me another one.”
I moan, back arching as he finds that particular spot inside and he scratches very gently, with just the tip of his fingernail and it sends me into a spasm. My fingers spread out over the skin of his back, absently marking the scar tissue and beautiful musculature of his body. “Come here, ye gorgeous bastard,” I wheeze. “I wanna kiss ye some more, aye?”
But as he slides up, I slide down, winking up at him on my way before my mouth latches on to the silky, thick head of his cock, feeling the hard metal of his piercing as it passes over my tongue.
“Oh, shite, sweetheart…” he groans, turning it into a growl that rattles through his chest as I smoothly slide him to the back of my throat, and thendownit, not stopping until my nose touches the crisp curls at the base of him and the other barbell, the metal warm like his skin.
Pulling air in through my nose, I sigh happily. Logan is thick. Impressively, perfectly, wonderfully, porn-star worthy, well, way past porn-star worthy thick. He’s throbbing in my mouth and I’m going to make sure the first time he comes is just like how he’d given mine.
Cupping his heavy balls, I gently roll them between my fingers as the thick muscles of his thighs tighten around my shoulders. “Mmmm-hmmm,” I hum helpfully, pulling off his cock, suckling the tip and diving back down again after a giant gasp of air. I can feel his sculpted abdominals heaving against my cheek and I’m gloating.
