Logan’s POV
I crash my lips on hers, I’m not letting her go this time. The way she affects me without even trying is so incredibly sexy that every time I see her, I can’t help but feel a jolt of desire.
I miss her so damn much. Right now, I’m enjoying every moment as I take in all of her through this kiss.
At first, she doesn’t respond, but I smile, knowing deep down she feels the same way I do. She eventually kisses me back with a fiery passion, her hands burning with intensity.
What was I thinking, dragging her into my room? Is this really how I want to win her back?
As I deepen the kiss, my mind races. The warmth of her lips, the way her hands grip me, it all makes me question my approach. Is this the right way to show her how much I need her, or am I just pushing too hard?
I’ve been so consumed by my desire and regret that I didn’t stop to think if this was what she wanted and if this was the right way to win her back. But beneath the passion, I’m haunted by doubts.
As her lips move against mine and our breaths intermingle, I realize I need to slow down. I need to give her space to make her own decisions and ensure that this is right for both of us.
She arches her back, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. My hands roam over her body as I gradually release my mouth from hers and move it to her neck, sucking deeply.
The sensation earns a moan from her, and she throws her head back, gasping, “Fuck, Logan,” as she bites her lips with pleasure.
My hands explore her breasts, and I notice they feel fuller and rounder than before. Childbirth seems to have made them more shapely.
The way she responds, the moans escaping her lips, stirs a deep longing within me.
The warmth of her skin under my touch, the way she arches into me, makes my heart race. Yet, amid the passion, I’m constantly reminding myself to be sensitive to her feelings. I need to show her that my intentions are genuine, not driven by selfish desires.
I pull back slightly, looking into her eyes, trying to gauge where we stand. My feelings for her are as strong as ever, but I need to ensure that she feels the same way.
I can’t help myself as I move my mouth to her nipple, sucking gently. Her hand slides down to my sweatpants and pulls them down. I’m not wearing any boxers.
She wraps her fingers around me, her touch sending waves of pleasure through me as she plays with the precum at the tip of my cock.
“Fuck, Nadine,” I groan, feeling overwhelmed. I lift her effortlessly, and she wraps her legs around me.
I press my lips back to hers, kissing her with a fierce urgency, as if my life depended on it.
As I kiss her fiercely, my mind is a storm of conflicting thoughts. The intensity of the moment consumes me, but beneath the heat and urgency, I’m acutely aware of my actions. I want to lose myself in her, to enjoy every sensation.
Her body pressed against mine, her touch so electrifying it made me question if I was truly honoring her feelings or just driven by my desires. Each movement, each sound she makes, fuels my longing, but I can’t ignore the nagging doubt that I might be pushing her boundaries.
I want to be the man she needs, not just the one who satisfies her physically.
I gently move my hand to her clit and feel her wetness, her body practically dripping with moisture. I tease around it, savoring her response, and gradually guide my cock to brush against her.
Her back is pressed against the wall as I hold her, her legs wrapped tightly around me. Her desperation is palpable.
“Fuck me, Logan,” she says, her voice filled with need. Her words make my cock throb with renewed intensity. I slowly positioned myself at her entrance, stroking lightly, preparing to enter her.
Her body, warm and eager, drives me to the edge, but I’m also acutely aware of the need to be gentle, to ensure this moment is right for both of us.
Her words, “Fuck me, Logan,” echo in my mind, heightening my urgency but also making me question if I’m pushing her too quickly.
I focus on her needs, on making this moment as perfect as possible. I remind myself that beyond the physical, this is about rekindling something deeper, and I want to respect that.
“God damn you, Logan!” she seethes in frustration as I continue to tease her. “Stop the fucking play and stick your dick in!” she says with desperation, and I don’t want to face the wrath of a woman driven to this point.
With that, I slowly push my cock inside her, with deliberate movements. She tenses for a moment but gradually relaxes as I ease into her.
“Fucking tight,” I groan as I thrust deeper, picking up speed. Each thrust is driven by the intense need I’ve felt for the past four years. I’ve been without a woman that long, resorting to soap with only one person on my mind-Nadine.
Now, as I’m inside her, it takes all my willpower not to lose control and go faster.
The sensation of her tightness around me is overwhelming. Every thrust feels like a release of years of pent-up desire, and I can hardly keep myself in check. Her body moves with mine, jerking and responding with every stroke.
I focus on her, trying to read her reactions, ensuring that my movements are in tune with her responses. The way she grips me and the sounds she makes all drive me further into the moment. I’m consumed by her.
“Faster, Logan!” she cries out after a few minutes. I move her to the bed, keeping myself inside her as I increase my pace, pouring out all the pent-up frustration and need from years of separation.
Her climax is building, and I can feel her clit tightening around me, pushing me closer to the edge. I thrust harder, driven by the intensity of the moment. Finally, I release my seed spilling into her.
As I collapse on the bed, my breath ragged, I watch her struggling to catch her breath. The physical and emotional exhaustion settles in, but the satisfaction of finally being with her again is overwhelming.
I lay there, my body spent. Her breathing is heavy. I reach out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead.
I pull her close, but she slowly rises, avoiding any further intimacy, and makes her way to the bathroom. I’m caught off guard by her reaction but decide to follow, needing to process what just happened.
As I enter the bathroom, I try to gauge her emotions, but her demeanor remains flat. I wonder how she truly feels about the experience we just shared.
I want to ask, to understand her perspective, but I don’t want her to think I’m pressuring her or trying to rekindle something she might not want.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I look at her reflection in the mirror.
“Umm, I’m fine, Logan. Why shouldn’t I be?” she responds sharply, with a voice that lacks any warmth.
My heart aches as I hold her gaze through the mirror. Her eyes remain stoic without emotions and I can sense the wall she’s built around her emotions. I want to break through, to understand her true feelings, but I can see she’s keeping her distance, protecting herself from further hurt.
I slump my shoulders in defeat as I watch her undress and step into the shower, using my products. The shy, timid Nadine I once knew seems gone, now replaced by a confident, feisty woman I’m struggling to understand.
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to stare?” she says, applying body wash with caution.
Her words snap me back to reality. I hadn’t realized I was staring, but her comment made me feel self-conscious. I turn away slowly, giving her the privacy she needs, by using the second stall in the luxurious bathroom. I watch her as she goes about her routine, focusing on herself.
Once she’s finished, she wraps a towel around herself and steps close to me. Her mouth brushes near my ear as she whispers something that makes my heart sink.
After thinking for a while, I came to terms with the situation. Though it’s painful, I realize it might be better to face this than nothing.