His next instruction comes in a husky voice laden with need and unrestrained arousal. “Now push your finger into your pussy.”

I slide one finger into my wet warmth. The sensation is incredible. I’m soft and smooth as silk—wet, and yet searing hot. The channel is tight and hugs my finger deliciously. It feels nothing like Logan’s larger and more intrusive touch, but it is arousing all the same. Before long, he wants to see two of my fingers, and I don’t waste a second before plunging another finger into my warmth. It still doesn’t compare to the length and size of Logan’s fingers, but it reminds me of his touch.

I thrust in and out so he can watch, and as I do, he gruffly comments on a shuddered breath. “Oh, God. You’re so beautiful.” As his breathing comes in spasms, and his hand’s movement on his dick quickens, he gives me one last instruction. “Now make yourself come.”

And I do. It takes no time at all before my moans become louder and harder to control. I come intensely with my fingers still thrusting into my hole, and the fingers of my other hand still rubbing furiously on my clit. As my orgasm subsides, he climbs up my body, hovering above me on his hands and knees. He continues to stroke his dick faster and braces himself with his free arm against the headboard. As I watch without touching, his orgasm starts to build, and in one final stroke, he comes, emptying himself on my chest. He strokes every last ounce of his cum from his cock before he starts to crumble around me. He collapses to my side and pulls me tenderly into him.

One last comment remains. “Did you like making yourself come while I watched?” My cheeks warm at his words, and his question needs no response. And with a knowing gentle smile on his face, he leans into me, kissing me tenderly and slowly. His eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but he is still slow to leave my mouth. Eventually, his lips slow and finally leave mine, and he rests his head next to me.

Now it’s my turn to comment. “Welcome home, Logan.”

“Glad to be home, Row.” And there is that beautiful smile directed at me alone. He drifts off to sleep as I enjoy the quiet and comfort of his body next to mine once again.

I lay next to his warmth, thinking about him for what feels like hours, enjoying every moment of my thoughts. I am the beautiful woman. For the first time in my life, I actually believe it. And I don’t care if nobody else thinks I’m beautiful, because in this moment, I know Logan does. Eat your heart out Amys of the world…

Chapter 15

When I wake, I’m alone and finally rested. The alarm clock beside the bed tells me it’s nearly three in the afternoon. I can hear Rowan tinkering around in the kitchen, which is never a good thing. But I take my time getting up, just wanting to savor the memories of this morning. She was terrified, but she gave me what I wanted. She trusted me, and it was such an incredible turn on. I need her to give me what I want from her, and I want her to know beyond all doubt when she does, she won’t regret it. The trust she showed in me fed my soul and my need to have her, possess her. But in the same breath, I need her to possess me, too, and she does. She gives me willingly what I need and owns me because of it.

The sight of her touching her own body in exactly the way I wanted was amazing. Her hands on her pussy were incredible. Watching every stroke of her delicate fingers was enough to unglue me. And God, the sight of her seeping her moisture while I watched so closely was my undoing. The image of her thrusting her fingers into her dripping wet pussy would make me a happy man for a long time to come. Those fingers stretched her hole, and seeing her fingers glide past the taught skin of her entrance made it nearly impossible for me not to sink my hard cock into her without a moment’s hesitation. Not making love to her is one of the most difficult challenges of my life, but I’m blown away by how incredible every other touch, taste, scent, and sight is. It’s as if not making love to her and taking her pussy with my cock has heightened my desire for her in every other way. I don’t feel cheated of any part of her. Instead, I feel as though I’m lucky as hell to experience an intimacy I’ve never appreciated as much as I do with her.

As I enter the kitchen, I catch her stabbing a frozen pound of hamburger—wonder what the hamburger did to deserve that. How is it that she never learned to cook … anything? I decide to let her flounder about for a while, though, content to watch her from the kitchen table while I check my e-mail. Watching her is, as always, very satisfying, and of course, amusing. Every other word out of her mouth is some sort of admonishment directed at the food that she is torturing. She may have a great many talents, but cooking is not one of them. I can’t believe she’s survived as long as she has without a parent taking care of her. She must live out of a microwave. After her fourth “shit!” and a very well delivered “fuck!” in under a minute, I finally decide to abandon my e-mail; I’ve made little headway on it anyway, having gotten engrossed in watching her.

Rowan gets her first lesson in boiling water before adding the pasta, and I divert another catastrophe when I catch her poised to empty a ketchup bottle into the sauce I’m trying hard to salvage. I quickly replace the ketchup bottle with a handful of basil I’ve been chopping, and eventually, in a roundabout sort of way, we end up with spaghetti sauce or something fairly close to resembling it.

We eat in silence, and I can see by the blush of her cheeks, whenever she meets my gaze, she hasn’t forgotten about our morning together. I scroll through my e-mail while Rowan reads one of her text books. She looks amazing with her hair pulled up in a high bun and her reading glasses on. And the contentment I feel in my soul washes over my entire body, sending an incredible and pleasant shiver through me. That is until I come to an e-mail from Brighton and Brink’s office asking me to come out for a few days the weekend after next for a meeting with the partners and to meet with a real estate agent. Real estate agent? Am I really at that point in my life where I warrant the attention of real estate agents? The idea stops me in my tracks. As I look up to see Rowan across from me engrossed in her reading, my heart sinks. Dread moves through my soul, replacing the warmth I felt moments before as I contemplate leaving her yet again, and not only that, planning out this new life I will soon have with no place in it for her. What’s more, it is by my own hand, sought and struggled after for years.

She looks up at me, worry plaguing her delicate features as she sees the pained look on my face. “Logan, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I try my best to shake off these unwelcome feelings and give my best impression of a reassuring smile. She quite obviously doesn’t buy it and comes to me instantly, her brow furrowed in concern. She sits in my lap, placing her hands on my cheeks and kissing me tenderly. This makes my heart sink all the lower, and the furrow of her brow deepens again in concern. She glances at my laptop and the offending e-mail before I even realize it’s still up on the screen. Our breath catches in tandem, and she turns to me with a defeated look crossing her face. The look is sobering, and I understand all too well what she’s thinking… and what she’s feeling—one more glaring reminder our little game of house will soon be at an end.

I take her mouth with mine, shutting the laptop. I stand with her in my arms, and carry her away to the bathroom. I sit with her in my lap on the edge of the bathtub. And while the bath fills, I slowly undress first her and then myself. I grab a couple of candles from the bedroom and light them as I make my way back in the bathroom to Rowan waiting patiently on the edge of the bath. Finally, I shut the lights off and close the door, shutting out all light but our candles. We settle into the warmth together, her back to my chest.

The mood has without doubt shifted, but the closeness of our bodies in the quietness of our place is soothing and calming. I turn her to face me, pulling her legs to straddle me. Her vagina is snug against my cock, and it amazes me that I’ve managed not to take her body in that way. She leans to kiss me gently, softly exploring my mouth with her tongue. I wait until she is satisfied and retreats before entering her mouth with my own tongue and tasting every last smooth silken surface. When our mouths finally break, her gaze meets mine in the flickering shadows of the candlelight before she leans her body against my chest and snuggles her face into my neck. We stay this way for an endless amount of time, shutting out everything else in the world.

But in the warmth of our darkened and quiet universe, where we are hiding away from anything that can reach us and part us, I start to think about our coming week. Every day takes us one day closer to being separated, so I tend to concentrate on our every moment together, planning it out in advance so that I don’t lose even a fraction of a second with her. We have to return to normal life tomorrow, classes and work, and that ever-present countdown of the calendar that will plague me daily.

The week will be busy, and our time together will definitely be limited. I want to spend every last minute with Rowan right now, knowing my clock is ticking ever closer to our deadline, so it is painful to think of losing her for even one night, but unfortunately, I will. Rowan will be staying with Sara tomorrow night as they work on their composition portfolios together, which are due before graduation. Wednesday night, we will have to face my family together for Sara’s birthday dinner at her favorite restaurant.