Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
His smirk tips me a little further into madness.
"Hello?" I groan three hours later, blinking in the dark.
"Shit. Did I wake you up?" Logan drawls into the phone.
My heart immediately picks up the pace, pounding like a drum.
"Um, I think so. What time is it?"
"Almost midnight. I just got home."
"From where?" I yawn, stretching my arms over my head.
"The bar."
"Oh." I drop my arms back to the bed.
"It's not like that," he says quietly. "It's tradition for the team to go out to celebrate after a game. We're supposed to see and be seen or some bullshit like that. We go out, have a few drinks, let people congratulate us, and then take our asses home to bed."
"Did you have fun?"
"Would have been a helluva lot more fun if you were there stealing our beer," he teases.
"I didn't steal your beer. I borrowed it."
His chuckle sends a pulse right to my clit.
I don't know why I do it, but I immediately slip my hand down my body, sliding it into my panties. I bite my lip, fighting a groan as I roll my fingers over my clit.
This is so wrong. I don't even need my judgmental little angel to tell me that. I'm using his voice like audio porn. But…I don't stop, either.
"So you enjoyed the game, huh?" he asks. "What was your favorite part?"
"Watching you land on your ass over and over again," I lie.
"Why am I not surprised?" He chuckles again. "I'll have you know, that's all skill, baby."
"Mmhmm. I'm sure it is." I throw my head back, squeezing my eyes closed as I touch myself, imagining that it's him doing the touching. He's the one with his hand between my legs right now. He's in this bed with me, grinding against my clit like he did the other night.
I whimper softly, arching toward my hand.
"Fucking hell," he growls. "Are you touching your pussy, Peyton?"
"What? No." I thrust two fingers inside me, only to whimper again.
"You little liar. You're playing with it right now, aren't you?"
"Yes," I moan. "God, Logan. I'm so wet."
He growls like an angry bear. "Goddammit. I want to see you. I want to eat you again. I'm losing my fucking mind over you, Peyton."
"You only w-want me because you can't have me."
"That's bullshit," he snaps. "I want you because you're mine."
"No, I'm not."
"No? Is that why you're fucking your fingers right now? Because you aren't mine?" His voice is silky sin and black as night. It scrapes against my clit in a way that should be criminal. "We both know you're lying, baby. You're thinking about me inside you, aren't you?"
"M-maybe."
"How hard am I fucking you right now, Peyton? How hard are you squeezing my cock?"
"So hard," I whisper. "I hate it."
"Liar," he groans through a chuckle. "You fucking love it."
"Do not."
"No? Then why are you ready to come all over me, hmm? If you hate it so much, why are you whimpering and moaning, desperate to shatter for me?"
"Logan," I whimper in response, losing the damn plot as I throw the blanket off and spread my legs, giving myself room to work. I thrust my fingers faster, chasing the pleasure dancing just out of sight. I'm so close, so damn close. "Please."
"You want to come, baby? Tell me the truth."
"I already t-told you."
"No, you didn't. Tell me that you're mine, Peyton."
"I'm not yours."
"The hell you aren't," he growls. "As soon as you stop being so fucking mad at me, I'm going to show you again just how much you love being mine, angel. I'm going to show you over and over again until you're screaming the fucking roof down."
"Please," I plead, right freaking there. But my body is betraying me, refusing to obey. It's completely on Team Moreno now, dammit.
"Say it," he croons. "You can have what you want as soon as you tell me the truth."
Damn him.
"Yours," I whisper, my heart clenched in a vise. It's the most terrifying word I've ever spoken. Mostly because it feels all too true. I think I belong to him. And I don't even know where to begin processing that. How can I when I'm not even sure I trust him?
"Good girl," he breathes. "Now, come all over that perfect hand for me, angel. Let me hear you unraveling for me."
I give in to the temptation, give in to him. I can't help it. I want it too damn badly to resist. My back arches from the bed, a whimper escaping my lips as I shatter into pieces, coming all over my fingers.
When it's over, I bury my face in the pillow, panting. Reeling.
Logan Moreno is a dangerous, dangerous man.
"You are mine, sweet Peyton," he whispers. "Sooner or later, you're going to forgive me. When you do, all bets are off, baby. See you tomorrow."
He disconnects before I can respond, which is probably for the best because God only knows what I'd say. I can't think of a single thing that isn't utterly terrifying.