My first real thrust choked off the pitiful sound I made. I hadn’t had anything alpha-sized inside me for weeks, and while three fingers wasn’t the same as Logan’s cock, they still packed a punch. The way he’d touched me before was branded into my brain, and I summoned those memories, finding a rhythm that matched what I heard in my ear.
It was all too easy to sink into the sensations with Logan roughly whispering sweet, filthy nothings while we both climbed the peak together. Tension coiled in my belly. My gripon my throat tightened, the desire to touch my clit almost overwhelming.
“Logan,” I whimpered.
“Getting close, mama? You still being good for me?”
“Y-yes.” Every plunge of my fingers had me squirming harder. He was close too. I felt it in every cell.
“You can touch your clit,” he said breathlessly, “but since I can’t be there to knot you, you’re going to get that fourth finger in there when you come.”
Abandoning my throat, I dove my other hand beneath the blankets, going straight for my clit. The first brush of it had me moaning so hard it sent Logan over the edge before me, and hearing his pleasure in my ear was all I needed to tumble down too. I fucked an extra finger inside, cursing at the grip of my cunt squeezing them all together as I carried myself up and over with a string of pathetic sounds I couldn’t help.
Logan was purring when I regained my senses and shakily withdrew my hands. “Tell me what you taste like. Maybe I’ve forgotten since I last had my tongue on you.”
Still breathing hard, I lifted my slick-drenched fingers to my lips and slid one between them. “Peonies, sugar, kinda salty, little bit musky.”
Logan groaned. “This was fucking torture in the best way. You’d better rest before you come home because you’ve got a date with my bed, and you’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you, let alone sprint out of here.”
A hysterical needy giggle sprang out of me. “I’ll be counting down the days.”
Chapter 25
Clover
Idid indeed count the days. They melted into weeks, and Logan became a guilty pleasure over the next two months, a distraction I needed and probably took advantage of too readily. My conversations with the rest of the pack were considerably tamer.
Logan waited for me to let him know the house was empty, and then I would call him and come to the sound of his voice with his scent in my nose.
By the time I hit the end of my third month home, I was more rundown than during finals week, but I kept pushing. I chalked up the daily headaches and ongoing nausea to forgetting to eat while making sure everyone else was fed. I pretty much lived off smoothies because that was the only thing my body seemed to tolerate.
“Peanut, you can’t keep doing this.” Poppy cornered me one night where I was sitting on the kitchen floor with a juice box. “You’re going to fall over.”
“I’m helping,” I insisted.
“You are,” he agreed, sitting down next to me and dropping his arm over my shoulders. “I don’t think we would’ve survivedthese past three months without you, but you need a break. A long one.”
“But Pappa still has another three months of recovery.”
“We’ve been working really hard while you’ve been here, and I think we’re enough ahead that we can start alternating who goes into the office again. I know Mike is far from better, but he can get around a little himself now, and we can work half days so someone can be home with him.”
“Are you tired of me being here?” I nearly started crying asking the question. My mood was all over the place, but stress did that to me.
“Absolutely not. We love having you home, but we’re not blind to how it’s impacting you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not, and you know better than to lie to us. If you don’t start putting yourself first, you’re going to end up in the hospital too, and we’d never forgive ourselves for letting that happen. Now, I’m going to take you back upstairs, and you’re going to sleep until you wake up.”
“But—”
Poppy hauled me onto his lap and stood with a groan. “You’re not quite as little as the last time I did this.”
He didn’t put me down, marching upstairs to tuck me into bed like I was five years old again.
“Mike is under strict instructions to tattle on you if you work too hard today.”
“This is bullying,” I said with a smile, relieved to be horizontal again.
