From now on, I’d behave myself.
“You can tell them the samedrag queen would have crawled over broken glass for a cup of your hotchocolate,” I said. Ididreally like it.
The last person who’d made me hotchocolate was my grandma, and I hated to admit it, but Logan’swasbetter.
“Even if I made it with goat’smilk?”
“Even if you made it withgoat’s milk,” I agreed, draining the mug.
Logan chuckled, and the airin the room seemed to clear.
I could handle a few moredays of this.
EIGHT
LOGAN
The door creaking openstartled me awake, light from the hall spilling across the room in a sharpslice.
Ashley appeared in thedoorway, poking his head inside. He must still have been a little shaken.
“You awake?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, sitting up.Being wide awake at a moment’s notice was a habit I’d never gotten out of.
The door hinges squealedagain as Ashley slipped into the room, letting it swing shut behind him. Iflicked the lamp beside the bed on, watching him approach.
… and climb into my lap.
In just his pretty pink lacepanties.
When did he put those on?Did he put them on for me?
“Ashley—”
“Shh.” He pressed a fingerto my lips, free hand curling around the back of my neck as he settled hisweight on top of me, pinning me down.
If I wanted him off me, Icould have moved him. He weighed half what I did.
The bare skin of his thighswas so soft under my fingers. Touching him was like touching one of those glassbaubles at Christmas, the ones I was always afraid of breaking if I held themtoo tight.
“It’s okay,” he murmured,covering my hand with his own and sliding it up until my fingertips brushedagainst the edge of his panties, catching on the lace. “I know how much youwant this. You don’t have to push me away.”
Soft lips crashed against mymouth again and the urge to object evaporated.
My fingers edged higher,slipping into the waistband of Ashley’s panties. Lace should have made this feelfamiliar, but it didn’t. Aside from the rush of blood south, nothing about thiswas familiar.
Ashley was clean-shaven andhis skin was soft, but it wasn’t like kissing a girl. It was like kissing Ashley.
It was like touching hisskin and toying with his panties and sliding my fingers into them to squeezehisass. A nice, firm ass, too tight for the kind of girls I liked, with softcurves and wide hips. Still felt good in my hands, though.
“It’s okay,” Ashleyrepeated, moving my other hand up to his cock—half hard and hot, strainingagainst the thin fabric. “I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret.”
He pulled me in for anotherkiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth this time. The hand on my shouldershoved hard, pressing me down to the mattress, Ashley’s hips rocking against mineas blood rushed to my cock.
Ashley was in charge here. Iwas just along for the ride.
“Saddle up, cowboy,” hemurmured into my ear, laughing the softest, sweetest laugh. “Just gonna takeyou through your paces.”
