37. Teysha

37

TEYSHA

We do something we've never done before together—we get a little dressed up. Logan digs a shirt I didn't even know he owned from the bowels of his bedroom closet. It's made of a quality linen fabric and has short sleeves and buttons. When he shrugs it on over his broad, tattooed shoulders, heat floods me.

He's never looked more handsome. The slate gray shade works perfectly against his stormy blue eyes, making them darker, more vivid. His normally stern face relaxes as he looks up and catches sight of me watching him.

"Like what you see?" he drawls.

More heat. More attraction flushes over me. I'm suddenly bashful, tilting my head away as if in hopes I can still pretend I wasn't spying on him.

"I was just checking if you were ready."

"Not sure. My wife looks so fucking good, I just might need a few minutes to have her to myself."

A yelp rolls out of me as I'm snatched by the waist toward him. His lips come down on my throat in the next second, peppering kisses up and down the sensitive column. A known weakness of mine, I squirm in his arms and break out into laughter, shoving at his chest.

"Logan!" I gasp.

"You smell like fucking flowers. Have I ever told you that?"

"Many times."

"Well, I'm telling you again."

He presses his face into my throat for a long, greedy inhale and even greedier kisses. My hands land on his rock-hard shoulders. Laughter weaves in between my words as I beg him to stop.

"Logan… you said…" I giggle. "You said dinner!"

"Plot twist," he growls, nipping at my jaw like a feral animal. " You are what's for dinner."

For five minutes I'm tortured like this, prey to the man who can't keep his hands off me. Logan regains control of himself only when we're kissing and groping each other, pressed against the wall, and his stomach growls in hunger.

We break apart in a fleeting second of surprise, then burst into laughter. The tips of Logan's ears warm to a soft scarlet and he scratches the back of his neck.

"Guess it is time for dinner. But don't think you're off the hook," he warns, dropping a kiss to my lips. "You're still for dessert."

Pulsboro isn't the most romantic setting for a date night, but in the thick of summer, we make do. Dusk lingers late into the evening, painted across the sky in streaks of lavender and periwinkle blue. Far in the distance the sun hangs on, coasting along the horizon, sinking in slow motion.

Main Street brims with life more than any other part of town. Saturdays in the summer tend to draw out the crowds that would otherwise be hibernating at home .

We park a street away and stroll the sidewalks holding hands. Logan's hand is calloused and warm wrapped around mine, a glove of love and safety.

I never want to let go.

After being denied simple things like this for so long, it truly feels special. We've faced the worst things life has to offer, and we've come out on the other side more united than ever.

God is good.

We pass shops and cafés and a duo of musicians playing live music. Joining the modest crowd cheering them on, we share impressed looks.

The pair are crooning a love song, strumming the strings on their guitar.

Logan holds me close as we vibe with the music, swaying on the spot. I soak up the moment for what it is, peace and contentment rolled into one. A joyful evening out with the man who stole my heart even when he wasn't trying to.

"You like Thai food?"

"Hmm?"

I blink and realize the song's ended and the crowd's dispersed. I was so lost in the moment that I tuned out of it. I tapped into the emotions coursing through me.

"Thai food sounds delicious right now."

"There's a good spot up ahead. I used to come here all the time. They've got the best curry."

Logan sets off at a fast pace, towing me along like he's excited to show me the place he's bragged about. I bite away a smile, practically skipping to keep in step with him.

The Thai spot Logan's told me about is tiny but charming, with only three tables and a handful of chairs. We're immediately greeted by a petite woman that I'm certain is someone's grandma. She sets menus down in front of us and explains the specials and promises she'll return with some iced tea.

I savor the many fragrant spices wafting in the air.

"This place already seems amazing."

"Told you." Logan cracks open his menu, then taps his finger at the number six. "My favorite. You want some quality Panang curry? This is it. Fucking delicious."

"Are you prepared to share?"

I put on a pouty face, barely able to hold it together. Logan goes from disgruntled to reaching for my chair to drag me closer. He kisses my cheek and says, "You're the only one I'd let eat off my plate. But you better be prepared to share too. What're you getting?"

"The Pad Thai seems like a safe bet. No bean sprouts. I'm not a fan."

"I'll make a note of that."

"Are you keep record of things like that?"

"Maybe." He gives a shrug. "I've started noticing things about you. The way you sing songs under your breath or pick the crust off your bread. You always put twice the recommended serving of creamer in your coffee. And your birthday that you told me about two months ago is coming up next month. Which means I better start looking for something to get you."

A kernel of fondness trills through me. I hadn't realized he'd been noticing these things. "You sure memorize a lot of things about me."

"It happens when you become obsessed with a woman."

He clasps my hand and I curl into his side again. "Tell me something I don't know about you yet."

He thinks a second and then says, "I used to be in a garage band. "

"A garage band?!"

"Hey, cut that judgment outta your tone. We were decent," he says, his jaw clenching in offense. "Well… I was decent. Mace and Cash were another story."

"Was this a high school thing?"

"It was. I was a few years older. Me and a buddy of mine—Ethan—needed two more members. Mace and Cash volunteered. I was on guitar. Mace drums. Ethan bass. Cash was our vocals. We played one gig and quit."

"Kori says Cash is great at karaoke."

"Yeah, well, Kori's in love. He could sound like a fucking rooster and she'd sing his praises."

I giggle. "That… sounds exactly like what could happen."

"Can't blame her. Love makes you say and do crazy things."

"Is that so? Tell me more, Mr. Cutler."

"You tell me, Mrs . Cutler. Which reminds me," he says, hiking a brow up high, "when are you changing your name?"

Surprise renders me silent for a second. "You… you want me to?"

"Why wouldn't I? You're my wife. You're about to be the mother of my child. And in case you haven't noticed, Teysha Patrice Baxter, I'm fucking in love with you."

The same heat that had flushed over my skin earlier returns in a warm wave. I'm left dizzy and speechless as I process what it's like to be cherished by Logan Cutler. Loved and cared for by him.

It's better than anything I could've ever imagined.

We enjoy every bite of dinner, sampling off each other's plates and chatting about whatever comes to mind. By the time we stroll back onto the sidewalk of Main Street, dusk has finally faded into night.

Residents still wander the long street, though the sounds of music and laughter have died down.

Logan strokes his thumb along the back of my hand in thought. We wander almost lazily 'til he stops us outside a tattoo parlor. "You ever thought about getting a tattoo?"

"Me? A tattoo? Uh, never." I give off a nervous laugh as if I'm sure he's joking.

"I'm gonna get one. Wanna come in with me?"

"Oh? Okay… sure. What are you getting?"

"A cross."

I halt halfway through the door, my brows drawing close in confusion. "A cross? You ?"

"Yeah, I've thought a lot about it… and I want it. I want it on me. I want it 'cuz it's important to you."

"But you don't have to," I say, shaking my head. "Really, they're my beliefs. Not yours. You don't have to?—"

"I want to. 'Cuz I've finally realized God is real."

"You're being serious? How so?"

Logan scrubs his free hand over his jaw, thinking on my question. "I figure he has to be if you are. If he led me to you."

Goosebumps spring onto my arms and tears mist my eyes. I'm rendered speechless not for the first time tonight, but most overwhelmingly of all. How is it possible to be full of so much love you can cry?

One glance up at Logan, and I see the face of my soulmate. The man I've been waiting a lifetime for.

My breath bursts out of me as I impatiently wipe the tears that have fallen and then throw myself in his arms.

We're blocking the doorway of the tattoo parlor, but the artist seated at the work chairs seems to understand. She softens watching us, a blonde with a pixie cut who's covered in artwork head to toe.

"Then… then I want one too. Maybe a small cross on the inside of my wrist." I hold out my arm turned up for his appraisal. Logan bends forward to press a kiss on the spot I'm thinking of.

"Seems like a good place to put it. But remember it might hurt a little."

I'm so lovestruck I can't even visualize a concept like pain. We finally head the rest of the way into the parlor to introduce ourselves to the blonde and explain what we were thinking. Logan wants his cross tattooed on his chest, placed right in the center where it'll be impossible to miss.

The blonde nods along. "Definitely can do that. And you? What were you thinking, doll?"

"My wrist. Just maybe a small one."

"Doable."

"Am I allowed to get one if I'm pregnant?"

"Generally safe, especially one as small as you're getting. Sit down in my chairs. Name's Cassandra, by the way. Cass for short."

Logan goes first. I'm more nervous than he is as he unbuttons his shirt and plops down in the leather chair. The needle buzzes as Cass draws the piece of art on his chest.

It's true that I've never imagined I would ever get a tattoo. Mama and Grandma Renae would probably cry if they ever found out. They feel tattoos are trashy and unnecessary. But I've learned more and more over the past couple months that while I'll always love them, I'm my own person. I'm my own woman, and I need to create the life I want for myself.

There's so much to experience, and I intend on doing that by Logan's side, including small side quests like tonight .

Getting my first tattoo.

When it's my turn, I release a nervous breath and replace Logan in the chair. The stinging pain is barely noticeable as he holds my hand and we kiss. From start to finish, the session lasts under two hours.

We exit high on life, hand in hand again, sharing adoring looks.

The fresh ink gleams on the inside of my wrist, clear film sealed over it for healing.

"Happy?" Logan asks, squeezing my palm in his.

I smile brightly. "You have no idea."

Logan's mouth is on me from the moment we walk through the door. His large, wide palms slip over my hips, and he comes up from behind to press his lips against my throat. The feel of his kiss, warm and tender, on the sensitive patch of skin makes me shudder.

I go still in his hold and sink into the instant chemical pleasure that washes over me.

"Logan…" I mewl.

"Baby, I want you so fucking bad," he rasps, kissing me all over. His mouth travels up, then down the side of my throat. His long fingers clench tighter on my hips, and he braces himself against me from behind, guiding me through the deep shadows of the apartment.

We maneuver the dark space this way, Logan kissing my neck, groping my hips, steering me from behind like an avatar.

Halfway down the hall, I turn in his hold and rise on tiptoe to meet his hungry lips. My hands roam his stubbly cheeks as I grab his face and kiss him just as enthusiastically. Just as urgently, breathlessly, letting him know how badly I need him too.

Every part of him intertwining with every part of me.

He takes my fervor, using it to light his own even more. Using my passion to fuel his to untold levels.

He's a fire that can't be put out. That intends on razing me down with him.

His arms slide under my thighs to hoist me up off the ground. My feet dangle as it's suddenly like I've climbed a great tree—I'm several feet off the ground, instinctually notching my legs around his waist to level us out. Our mouths align as he crushes his lips to mine.

And really does set me aflame.

Need burns through me, flushing onto my brown skin.

I can barely contain myself, barely remember to breathe as Logan's hot kisses unravel me. My undoing happens all at once.

The desperate breaths fighting their way out of my lungs. The way I dig my nails into his forearm as he holds me up and bites at my bottom lip. Even how my body tremors at the feel of his desire.

The knowledge a man could ever want me this much, it's like he's on the brink of losing his mind.

Logan kicks the bedroom door open and flings me to the bed. We both launch into urgent attempts to undress ourselves, fumbling hands and heavy pants in the dimly lit room. He's unhooking his jeans, shoving down his boxers, his erection bobbing free. I'm on my back on the bed, wiggling out of my panties, the spaghetti straps of my dress low on my shoulders.

His patience is lost in a fierce rumble that's louder and deeper than the engine of his bike revving up.

He snatches the pair of panties caught halfway down my leg and rips the clingy, delicate fabric the rest of the way off before he's on top of me. His heavy, muscled weight presses down over me, my thighs parted wide to make space for him.

"You wet for me, baby?" he asks, his voice like gravel. His hand finds my pussy, and I writhe at the sudden rough touch.

His fingers on my throbbing little clit, rubbing fast circles, making me wetter than I already am.

He peers into my eyes and watches my face as my mouth falls open for a soft moan. I'm hot and needy, squirming under him like a butterfly caught in the cup of a hand. But he only rubs me faster, harder, bringing me closer to release.

I watch him watch me as my brows pinch and pleasure flickers through me, building, growing, expanding 'til I can't take it. I grind my hips against his hand and scratch at his steel-like shoulder, a woman so easily undone and overcome.

"Give it to me, baby. You like when I play with your pussy, don't you?" he asks. "You want me to taste you? You want my tongue to lap up every fucking drop of those juices?"

Yes becomes the only word I know.

I repeat it over and over again like a chant, breathless and feverish as he makes good on his proposal. Logan travels down the length of my body, pressing kisses onto the different parts of me as he goes—my bare stomach and my hipbone and the mound of flesh just above my sex. He nibbles on my thighs and sucks my clit between his lips.

He spreads my pussy lips, then traces his tongue along my folds. His stormy gaze meets mine, darkened by lust and feral need, as he quite literally devours me .

I tip my head back, no longer able to bear it another second. I can't hang on. I can't fight the tingling pleasure that percolates from my pussy and then surges through the rest of me.

My orgasm is a wrecking ball that smashes into me and knocks me asunder.

I break apart with a hoarse cry of pleasure and my body going limp. For a few blissful seconds, I'm lost to the chemicals, lost to the rush of them that floods me all at once.

Logan suckles away. He licks at my pussy and laps up my pearly cum. More kisses. More love bites.

More hungry stares as he returns to his place over me and claims my mouth. I taste myself on his tongue, another tremor rocking through me.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he praises. "So fucking sweet. All of that's just for me."

"Yes," I babble. "Only for you."

"Are you gonna do what I say? Are you gonna let me fuck that tight little delicious pussy?"

"Oh, yes… please. I… I need it."

"I need it too, baby," he groans, and I feel him at my opening.

The heat he gives off. The steely hardness. The moist crown of his penis.

"But guess what, baby?" he asks. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to ride my fucking cock like a good girl. Can you do that for me?"

My eyes pop open in shock, meeting his. I'm still breathless, my skin warm. My brain's fuzzy from the orgasm I had seconds ago, so much so speech still feels like an impossibility. "F-fuck your cock?" I repeat almost innocently.

He laughs. "That's right, baby. Sink down on this cock and ride me like a fucking bull. "

I'm frazzled as he maneuvers us for me. So strong and capable, he pulls me up and lays back, plopping me on top 'til I'm astride him.

His thighs are so thick, so muscled and hairy that it feels difficult just trapping mine over his. His cock stands tall and upright, gleaming from precum.

I lick at my lips, my heart beating fast.

"C'mere," he says, grabbing me by the hips. He drags me the rest of the way, 'til I'm positioned directly over his length. "Do it, baby. Sink down."

"But… but I don't… I've never…" I warble out.

"Be my good girl and try. You can take it. You can ride me, baby."

It's the desire blazing in his dark eyes that does me in. The husky note of his voice. The love that's visceral and makes me feel safe enough to explore.

I'm clumsy getting myself situated. I pull my summer dress the rest of the way over my head and plant my hand on his chest. It looks tiny against the broad expanse of it. Holding his gaze, I nibble on my bottom lip and go for it, sinking down on him.

Logan hisses like he's been burned. His chest constricts, so powerful in the ragged breath he lets out.

"FUCK!" He clenches my thighs on either side of him. Veins throb in his throat as he swallows with difficulty. "Fuck, that's fucking good. So fucking good."

Encouraged by the praise—even the expletives—I do what feels natural.

I rock my hips, slowly, tentatively, testing and exploring.

Reveling in how thick he is and full he makes me. How I can take him deeper or switch up the depth for new angles of pleasure.

Soon, I'm finding a rhythm. I'm riding him, my skin burning and heart pounding. I'm mesmerized by the ways I can inflict pleasure on him. The ways I can make him groan and snap shut his eyes.

My pussy grips him, my walls fluttering and stretching.

My breasts bounce along with every move.

A whole new version of myself is born. A sensuous seductress who's bold and unafraid, who embraces her sexuality and wields it to bring her husband to climax.

Sex doesn't just happen to me, like so many times in the past. I can be in control. I can make him feel so good and make myself feel just as good too.

These moments are hungry and carnal, driven by lust and desire, but they're also beautiful and intimate. Private moments we share in together. Moments where I can unleash a side of myself no one else gets to see.

I shudder as my pace increases and my rock becomes a full on, frantic bounce.

Logan grips my thighs and helps me along.

"That feels so fucking fantastic, baby. Keep going."

And I do—I undulate my hips like I'm fighting a bull, moaning at how his dick reaches a part of me it never has. Some pleasure button that sends hot sparks through me.

"Fuck yes!" Logan growls as I ride him. He's groping my hips and thighs hard enough to bruise, both of us so close to our endings. "You're doing so good, baby. You're so fucking beautiful. Look at you taking my cock like a good girl."

Our eyes lock, our pants chaotic, bodies slick with sweat, as we ride it out together.

We find our pleasure together.

"Tell me you're mine. Tell me you're my good fucking girl," he demands, his face clenched. His muscles strain. He's on the verge of coming.

"I'm your good girl!" I cry out. "I'm yours… I'm yours… "

"You want my cum, baby? You want to be full with me?"

"Yes… please fill me up. I love being full."

My pussy clamps down on him in a choking grip as he loses it. He grunts as he bruises my hips and his jerk up into me. His cock goes so deep, it reaches the back of my pussy, sending me flying into my second orgasm.

All sound goes out. All breath rips from my lungs. Anything and everything else ceases to exist.

For a magical few seconds, we're suspended in pleasure, convulsing and panting.

My bones leave my body. I can no longer hold myself up, flopping to the side, half on top of Logan.

I can feel him even as he slips out of me. The wet evidence between my thighs, gushing from my pussy, the ache that he leaves behind.

He rolls over to kiss me and wrap me up in his arms. "That was fucking amazing," he mumbles, his words slurred like he's drunk. "I love you so damn much."

I burrow deeper into his arms, already drowsy. "I love you so damn much too."