The Holloways (Made for Love Book 3.5) (5 page)

“Why’d you bring me if you’re just planning on standing by the bar all night?”

I look down at her with a lifted eyebrow. “Why did you say yes?” I ask.

She licks her lips and that’s all the confirmation I need—she understands my implication. I raise two fingers and tap the bottom of her martini glass, encouraging her to drink. She obeys and my eyes continue to roam the room.

That’s
when I see her.

The light catches her platinum blonde hair, pulling my focus to the curls that drape down her chest. The fair shade of her hair stands out against the blue of her dress and my gaze slows when my eyes reach its hem. Her long, toned legs beg to be admired and I don’t refuse them. Then that fucking goddess of a woman turns around and I catch a glimpse of her back. My cock swells as I remember the feel of her skin beneath my hand—her soft lips on mine.

It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her, but Logan Schwartz is not a woman easily forgotten—a truth that has been resurfacing more and more over the last few weeks. Our paths will cross again, soon, and I wonder whose strength will prevail. I’m not a man who begs. I refuse to grovel at her feet, but I almost had her once. Seduction is not a feat; rather, it has proven to be a bi-product of my simple interest. I wonder how she will fair when she’s forced to work with me on a regular basis.

A minute part of me wonders the same of me.

Logan Schwartz is not a woman easily forgotten—but it’s hard to forget a woman who tells me
no
.

I watch as she’s tugged into a pair of arms, and I recognize the bastard who had the audacity to punch me at a company function. His grip around her sends a loud message to anyone in a ten mile radius with a dick.

She belongs to him.

I squint as I take a closer look at her and spot the wedding ring on her finger.

Shit.

All bets are off.

I don’t fuck with married women. Not ever.

I throw back the last of my scotch and slam my glass on the counter. Suddenly in need of a distraction, I hold out an expectant hand to Mariah.

“Where are we going?” she asks, wrapping her fingers around mine.

“We’re dancing.”

“We are?” she giggles.

God. I fucking hate the sound of her laugh.

“R
OME,
STOP!
” LOGAN INSISTS
with a chuckle. Placing a hand on my cheek, she turns my face towards hers. “
No one
is looking at me. You’re being paranoid.”

To be honest, I hadn’t realized I was being so obvious about my routine checks for onlookers. Judging by the pout on her lips, I’m assuming the slight shift in my blood/alcohol level has impaired my ability to be discrete. Nevertheless, she’s wrong. Men have been gawking at her since we got here. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t piss me off.

I mean, come on! She’s clearly here with
me.
Doesn’t anyone have any
class
anymore? So she’s got a nice ass—it doesn’t belong to any of them, and they need to keep their eyes
off
.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when the DJ cuts the music and announces that there’s only one minute left in the year. Logan squeals as she slides her fingers up my neck and into my hair. A smirk tugs at my mouth, her excitement downright adorable. I furrow my brow when she begins to look to her right and to her left, searching for I don’t know what.

“What are you doing, babe?”

“Checking to make sure I don’t see your parents,” she replies, looking once more.

“And why is that?” I ask with a sly smile.

She focuses her eyes back on me as she presses herself up on her tiptoes. I tighten my grip around her waist, helping to support her weight as she touches her nose to mine. “Because I intend to kiss the hell out of my husband at midnight and I’d prefer
not
to hear about it from your mother later.”

I touch my forehead to hers, squeezing her even tighter, needing her closer.

“Logan Elise Holloway, two-thousand-sixteen has been the best year of my life because of you. I love you so damn much.”

“I love
you
so damn much,” she insists, her eyes wide, echoing her words. “I know, with all my heart, that this is going to be such an amazing year. I’m walking into it as your wife and it doesn’t get any better than that.”

“
Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven…
”

As time passes, I decide that waiting another five seconds is too much to ask. Before the clock strikes midnight, my lips are pressed against hers. She hugs me closer, opening up for me, and I don’t hesitate before thrusting my tongue into her mouth. I barely register the raucous of the partiers around us as they celebrate the dawn of a new year—I’m too lost in my Logan.

The way she arches her back, pressing her tits firmly against my chest.

The way she sucks on my tongue.

The way she tugs my hair at the nape of my neck.

The way she holds me as if she has no intention of letting go.

My dick grows stiff and my desire to be inside of her burns so hot, I can hardly contain myself. I slide one of my hands down her bare back, ever so slowly sneaking my way under the fabric that covers her backside. I tell myself I’ll stop as soon as my fingertips graze the top of her underwear, but when I feel nothing, something inside of me snaps.

I yank my hand out just as I rip my lips away from hers. She sucks in a breath, her lips parted in a small O, her eyes glassy with lust.

“
Where are your panties, Logan?”
I growl. Both her lips and her eyes open wider and I’m suddenly short of breath, my desire turning into a suffocating
need
. I lower my lips to her ear, gripping her hips tightly between my hands. “My girl wants to
fuck,
doesn’t she?” She shivers against me, her fingers pulling at my hair. “You want me to slam my cock into your pussy? Huh? Do you need me to remind you who
owns
that pussy? You want me to punish you for thinking you have the right to be out in public in nothing more than a scrap of fabric? You don’t—Mrs. Holloway. You’re
mine
.
Mine
. You can’t parade your naked pussy around like it belongs to you. You hear me?” When she doesn’t answer me, I apply more pressure to her hips and press my hard length against her. “Answer me, Mrs. Holloway.”

She’s practically panting now. I can feel her short, hot breaths against the side of my face as she moves her lips just below my ear. “Punish me,” she whispers.

I hook my arm around her waist, tucking her against my side as I begin to barrel my way through the crowd. I see no one. I hear nothing. I
feel
desperate. Ravenous. Insatiable. I
feel
downright possessed. I’m so turned on, I can barely think straight. I know that Logan is struggling to keep up with me, but I can’t slow down. My eyes jump around the room, searching for an exit, a bathroom, a corner,
somewhere—anywhere!

My dick jerks when I see the stairs, roped off but unmanned. I assume they lead to the the balcony of the theater, which is empty tonight. A wicked grin spreads across my face and I stop just in front of the velvet ropes, throwing Logan over my shoulder. She squeals and I smack her ass, making her squirm and moan.

My dirty girl.

I race my way up the stairs, not even bothering to check to make sure that we’ve gone unnoticed. I don’t care. I
can’t
care. All I’m worried about is losing myself under Logan’s dress—
finding
myself in her perfect cunt.

Once we’ve ascended to the second level, I don’t think twice before I go right—blindly making my way down the empty corridor. I breathe deep, in an attempt to catch my breath, and I get a whiff of Logan’s arousal. When I slide one of my hands up her thigh and between her legs, my dick grows painfully hard as my finger
slips
through her slick folds.

“Mmmm, Rome, baby…” she mewls.

“
Fuck,
Logan!”

We pass four doors before I attempt one. It opens with ease and I’m far too distracted to be surprised. When the door latches shut behind us, we’re shrouded in almost complete darkness. The only light that illuminates the box that I’ve managed to stumble upon is the green exit sign that hangs behind us. As I set Logan down on her feet, I know I’ve got all the light I need.

I’ve loved her body well and I don’t need the advantage of illumination to make my woman come apart at my touch.

“
Roman
,” she whispers, pressing her body against mine, her hand stroking my erection through my suit pants.

“On your knees, babe.”

I whimper as I sink to my knees, trembling like an addict in withdrawal. I know that it’s only been a few hours since he’s been inside of me, but after our night of dancing and revelry, it feels like it’s been too long. I need my fix. I’m craving it. I’m wild with want. I’ll take him anyway I can get him. My mouth. My pussy. I don’t care. I know he’ll take care of me. He always does.

My Roman—he always does.

“Turn around, Logan. Hands on the banister. Lean over and stick that pretty ass in the air, beautiful.”

I do exactly as he says, crawling in the darkness toward the banister, anxious for his touch—
his punishment.
I listen as he unfastens his belt before his pants drop to the floor behind me. I’m panting like a bitch in heat and I don’t even care. I need him. I need him—“
I need you!
” I whine.

He kneels down behind me and presses his erection against my back. My fingers tighten around the bar of the banister, my impatience pushing me to my breaking point.

“You need this cock?” he grinds out as he rocks his hips, rubbing himself over the fabric of my dress. “You need this big dick inside of you, is that what you need? My dirty, little minx.”

My eyes fill with tears, my desperation almost more than I can bear. I’m wetter than a slip-n-slide and I wonder if it’s possible for me to come before he touches me. I
love
it when he talks dirty to me.
Love it.
My good Christian boy. My God fearing man. He’s more than I ever dreamed, capable of bringing me the most intense pleasure in so many ways. Soft and sweet. Hard and dirty. Quick and in a hurry. Slow and drenched in love. His sexual beast was awakened by
me
and I adore every version.

But this—right here, right now—my foul mouthed lover—he just may be my favorite.

“You need me to fuck some sense into you? Huh? Is that what you need?”

“
Please
…” I beg, unable to utter another word.

I feel the cool air against my skin as he pushes my dress up around my waist. Then, with no further warning, he slams into me with his
big dick
. I cry out as he stretches me open, filling me up, just the way I like—just the way I want—just the way I need. He groans, his body still for only a moment before he starts pounding in and out of me.

“Love my pussy,” he grunts as he squeezes my hips, holding onto me for much needed leverage. “So wet. So tight. So fucking mine.”

Goosebumps cover my skin, starting at my neck before rippling over my entire body. I feel like I’m falling—sinking—
drowning
.