I surface from sleep slowly, consciousness flickering like a match in the dark.
Warm. I’m so warm.
Logan is wrapped around mine, one of his big thighs between my legs, his chest pressed against my back, his arm heavy across my waist. His breath is slow and even against my neck, and the steady rhythm of it should lull me back under.
But there’s an ache low in my belly, right below where his hand is splayed, and as I take a deep breath and squirm back against him, I gain a primal awareness of his cock wedged against my ass. Suddenly I’m very aware of every point of contact between us. The soft fuzz of the hair on his leg. The possessive curl of his fingers into my stomach.
The way his erection is growing as I rub against it.
I bite my lip and close my eyes, riding this secret, erotic moment like a wave. A soft sound escapes me, half sigh, half whimper, and in his sleep, Logan makes a matching low rumble.
He pulls me closer, his hips pressing forward instinctively.
Vivid, consuming heat floods my core.
I move again, more deliberately this time, pushing back against him. The friction sends sparks along my nerve endings as our bodies line up more intentionally.
“Mmm.” His arm tightens around me, and his hand slides lower to cup my mound, his fingertips dipping into my slit.
I spread my thighs and his breathing changes.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he rumbles, the words slurred with sleep. His lips brush against my shoulder.
“Mmm,” is all I can manage. His fingers move in slow, lazy circles that make my toes curl. There’s no urgency here, no desperation like earlier. Just slow, deep need. Like floating in the ocean.
I reach back, finding him hard and ready against my lower back. My hand wraps around his cock, and he groans into my shoulder, his hips pushing forward into my grip.
“Need you,” I breathe.
He rolls me onto my front, lifting my hips into the air, kissing my back as he pins my hands to the mattress and fits us together.
The first press makes me sob out loud, it’s such a stretch.
Full. I’m so full of him.
“God,” he breathes against my neck. “Frankie...”
His fingers thread through mine, holding my hand as he starts to move.
Long, deep strokes that make me arch back against him. Slow fucking that feels primal and instinctive. No rush.
It’s different like this, with him on top of me from behind. Rutting into me. Like a mating fuck. It’s hornier, dirtier, but there’s something deeply intimate about the sleepiness of it, too. Like we’re dreaming. His other hand slides between my belly and the mattress, finding my clit, his fingers working in rhythm with his thrusts, building my pleasure and taking his own until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
I’m floating, suspended in a secret, erotic space between yesterday and tomorrow. Nothing exists beyond our bodies, beyond his hand holding mine, his fingers on my clit, his breath in my ear.
“So good,” he mumbles into my hair. “So good for me.”
Even half-asleep, he’s still praising me, and my body responds instantly, clenching around him.
“Logan,” I whisper as the pleasure starts to crest.
“You’re okay,” he promises, his voice rough. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve always got you.”
Arching my back, I shove my hips into him, grinding my clit against his fingertips as I try to get as stuffed as I possibly can.
“Yeah, that’s my girl, fuck my cock,” he growls. “Gonna come? Make me come, too.”
I push my toes into the mattress, pressing my hips higher, higher, feeling like I might explode out of my skin with how good it feels, and then he snaps his hips, driving me down into the mattress, his thighs pushing my legs wider, and he’s so deep now I can feel him in my belly, and I’m gone.
