Logan suffered more of Ororo’s sojourns to her laptop during the storm that hemmed them in for the next two days. Their plans to “rough it” were squelched, even though Logan’s truck came equipped with a camper shell, but the climes were too extreme.
They settled for ghost stories.
“Promise me it ain’t the one about the guy with a hook fer a hand.”
“Please! No. Urban legends suck. But on a night much like this, the locals told tales about wolf tracks leading away from a widow’s cottage on the edge of the woods.” The fireplace hosted crackling flames that cast flickering golden light over the walls.
Ororo looked beautiful in the firelight, and Logan’s eyes seemed to hold some of that gold captive. They were mesmerized by each other but covered it with sarcasm.
“Kinda like the Big Bad Wolf comin’ ta Grandma’s house,” he muttered.
“Do ya wanna hear the story or not?” she clucked impatiently. She stabbed a marshmallow with the skewer and gave him a tart look. He held up his hands in surrender, but his grin was unapologetic.
“Lead on, MacDuff.”
“For a month, the village’s livestock was being poached a bit at a time, according to the locals. No one had much money, so theft was punishable by time in jail, even if it was just swiping a watermelon out of someone’s patch.”
“Livestock?”
“Uh-huh. No valuables. Nothing out of anyone’s house, in the beginning. They started finding chicken feathers and trails of blood.” Her smile was slightly wicked, and her voice took on the low, husky timbre of someone growing more involved with the story they told.
“Geez,” he muttered, but he was beginning to enjoy himself. The marshmallow burnt slightly; Logan carefully blew out the ridge of flame and nipped at the sticky sweet, scowling a moment when he burnt his upper lip. “Shit!”
“Here,” Ororo beckoned. Her eyes were dark pools of desire, and affection twisted her lips. She leaned across the plush throw rug and brushed her mouth over his, sucking off the glaze of marshmallow and cooling his scorched skin with her teasing breath. Arousal knotted his gut.
“Brat.”
“Better?”
“Almost.” His hand cupped her jaw before he kissed her more deeply, drinking in her flavors and heat. Her heartbeat was steady but strong, speeding up slightly as he groaned into her mouth. She stared at him dreamily and sighed.
“Chickens, eh?”
“Uh-huh. No one could figure it out. It wasn’t a fox, as near as they could tell. The tracks were all wrong. Too big, and…get this…they were spaced apart like something on two feet, not four.” He nearly choked, and Ororo leaned over and gave him several stiff whacks on the back.
“Yer…gonna kill me,” he rasped. Her chest shook with mirth.
“The villagers were baffled. Every morning, it was always the same. Missing animals, but they never found much by way of scraps. They were never just eaten and left behind; they were always carried off the property. And the trail always seemed to lead into the woods. They hunted through fox holes and ditches, and even checked some caves in the hills for bears, but there was no sign of anything that big living that close.
One day they finally found the remains of one of the animals, and it confused the crap out of them even more.”
“Do tell.” His tone was bland, but he enjoyed the sense of anticipation.
“The bones were picked clean. Not a typical kill where the belly’s just been torn out. They were finding bare bones.”
“Maybe the fox had a barbecue.”
“Nope. Raw blood, bare bones. And they were always scattered, like the prey was torn apart.” There was something wicked in the look she gave him. For only a moment, he was uneasy.
“After a while, whatever the creature was, it began feeling a little bold. Garbage cans were knocked over on people’s property. Gardens were uprooted like something had been digging in it. And people’s pets started showing up injured, or just plain disappearing.”
“Pets?”
“Dogs. Cats. One morning they found the remains of a poodle.”
“Eh. It was a poodle,” Logan shrugged, but he felt a strange sense of mourning over the death of a dog. And he didn’t even like pets, barring Ororo’s cat, but even then, only because Giblet was Ororo’s.
“After a while, they started noticing this weird pattern. It was always worse,” she murmured, making him move in closer, “during a full moon.”
“Weeeiird,” he grumbled. She leaned back on her elbows after setting down her empty skewer and settled closer to him. The flames seemed to hypnotize her.
Her heartbeat held him in thrall, coupled with her warm, spicy scent. He nuzzled her shoulder, kissing its crest through the soft waffle knit of her shirt. It was slate blue, complementing her eyes and the caramel glow of her skin. Her eyes flicked over him, settling on his mouth. She licked her lips as though remembering how they felt and tasted.
“The village’s sheriff imposed a curfew to keep people inside after nightfall. They balked, but everyone went inside and locked up their homes by dusk. It was like a ghost town. People stayed away from their windows but kept their ears to the ground for anything that sounded like something tearing through their stables, pens or henhouses. Every now and again, there would be a scuffle and sounds of pawing feet and these growls…” A low, guttural snarl escaped her chest as she playfully bared her perfect teeth at him, just as he’d been leaning in more closely. He snorted and tugged a lock of her hair.
“Thought ghost stories were s’posed ta be scary.”
“You’re not scared, Logan?”
“Nope.”
“What does scare you?” She laid on her side, her temple propped against her fist as she watched him. He adopted her posture and slumped comfortably, facing her and matching his breathing to hers.
How he felt with her. Out of control. Desperate. The overpowering need that gripped him every time she walked into a room. That scared him.
“Rush hour traffic. And my ex mother-in-law.” She tsked bitterly; he’d ruined the moment.
“Not everybody followed the curfew.”
“Every town’s got its rule breakers.”
“There was a young widow on the edge of town who headed out one night to fetch some firewood from the cord she had stacked by the shed. She had a huge German shepherd named Skip. She let the dog out before she bundled up and went to get the wood.
On her way back across the yard, she heard a scuffle and a yelp. She couldn’t see old Skip on the porch where she left him. She gets antsy and reaches for her husband’s rifle in the shed. It was dark out, and she was suddenly in the dark.
…her back porch light was off. She heard the creak of the floor boards on her porch and what sounded like rustling in the grass.
‘Skip. Here, boy…’” Ororo whispered, adapting the widow’s fearful demeanor and widening her eyes.
“The only light she had was the full moon and a few dying stars through the clouds. ‘Skip,’ she called out, looking for her old hound and holding onto that rifle so tightly her hands ached. ‘Here, boy! C’mere, boy!’”
“Num-nums. Walkies!” Logan heckled. She reached out and savagely twisted his nipple, effectively nerpling him. “GAH!”
“You’re mean.” He sighed. “Hmmph…”
“She cocked her rifle, and she heard this low growl. She heard another yelping cry from Skip before it was suddenly cut off. She cried out…and saw the silhouette of something big. Hoisting her dog up by the throat.
All she saw were teeth in the dark. Blazing yellow eyes. It wasn’t a bear. It wasn’t a fox.
…but it was still hungry.”
Logan knew the feeling. Lazily he trailed his fingertip up her elbow to her knuckles, then let it trace the contour of her cheek.
“She screamed and cocked her gun, backing up as fast as she could. She didn’t care that she was isolated or headed the wrong way. Her heart was pounding too fast to reach for the keys to her pickup. The thing dropped Skip, and she saw a raw, shiny patch where his throat had been. Her finger shook over the trigger. She aimed for the thing’s heart as it snarled and crouched.
There was a shot. Her nearest neighbors thought it was a backfiring car and shrugged it off.
She hit it, and she didn’t stop to see if she hit it. All she did was run. Her legs carried her into the thicket. Branches slapped her and tangled in her hair. She stumbled over tree roots and heard rushing footsteps behind her. Closer. Closer,” Ororo urged, her voice growing lower. “She stumbled and twisted her ankle…”
“Gads. What is it about women runnin’ around in the woods and fallin’ down?” he complained. “Hey!” he barked as she reached out and poked his armpit. “Quit it!” She grinned and took thorough umbrage.
“Who’s falling down now, Logan? Huh? Huh!” Poke. Poke. Jab. Poke. Tickle. Nerple. He collapsed in rusty laughter as he guarded his pits and neck from her taunting hands. He lost his balance and support as his arm buckled beneath him.
“Finish…yer…story!” he rasped as they struggled. She loomed over him, suddenly covering him for better access to his weak spots. No holds barred. No matter where he guarded himself, she’d zap him somewhere else, too quickly for him to retaliate.
“Are you gonna behave and be a good boy?” she purred.
He couldn’t lie. “No.”
That earned him another barrage of tickling.
“Nuff! Nuff! UNCLE!” he groaned. “Aw, c’mon, ‘Ro! Please, pretty please, sssstop!” Her giggles mingled with his…she had him giggling, fer cryin’ out loud. He felt so unmanned…
And excited. Her breasts were mashed against his chest. Gradually her laughter died, and her body relaxed until her abdomen was flush against his. She kept his wrists loosely pinned over his head and nuzzled the tip of his blunt nose.
“So what happened?” he murmured, letting his lips graze hers.
“No one knows,” she concluded, somewhat conveniently, in his opinion, since her pelvis rippled in one smooth, experimental movement that fitted them together at every dip and hollow.
“Did she hit it?”
“They found her rifle missing two rounds,” she offered. “More bloody tracks. But this time they were made by two sets of prints, big enough to be a man’s.” She released his wrists and ran her palms down the slopes of his quadriceps to his rising and falling pecs. Her touch ignited him, making his nerve endings tingle. He felt goosebumps cover him and make his skin feel too tight in response to her sweet breath steaming his lips
“No feathers?”
“What do you think?”
“Ya wanna know what I think?” he huffed in disbelief. Holy shit.
He growled “ growled “ low in his throat and clamped her upper arms in an implacable grip before he mauled her mouth. He leaned up and dominated that sexy mouth, driven with the need to make her ache and burn for him just as much as he did for her. Her silky, lush hair tickled him face and covered his hands; he fisted it back from her face and dragged his mouth along the crest of her cheek. Her body shuddered against him when he nipped her earlobe before lapping the whorls. He speared the canal with the very tip of his tongue, suggesting more meaningful thrusting and wetness.
Her heartbeat thundered against him and rocked his senses.
“Logan!” Her world was upended as she was rolled to her back.
He loomed over her, dark and dangerous. His breathing was heavy, expanding and contracting his broad and solid chest like a bellows. He looked like a hungry beast.
Her hips bucked against him with yearning.
“Ro,” he growled. He waited. For permission. For submission.
She licked her lips, nodded, and clutched handfuls of his hair to drag him into her kiss.
He wanted to take his time. He’d dreamt of this when he slept at all. She belonged tangled in his sheets.
Yet Logan craved her.
His hands were swift, and his kiss wasn’t gentle. He nipped her, suckling her bruised lips and lapping greedily at her neck. She squirmed and moaned, rasping out his name until it became an incoherent string of syllables. He felt that good, that right. His body pinned her and pressed her more deeply into the thick sherpa rug. They struggled wantonly against each other, unable to give or take enough.
His palms framed her face. He kissed her long and deep, exploring her mouth. She came up for breath long enough to lean her lips into his touch. She nipped the tip of his finger once, then drew it into her mouth. His pupils dilated and she felt him harden against her pubis, grinding against her for relief. She wouldn’t let him go, sucking on him like she couldn’t get enough of the taste of him. He followed suit, obeying the dictates of her mouth, sliding his finger in and out of her wetness, then adding a second finger. The sight of that rosy, swollen mouth engulfing him…
“Fuck,” he hissed. She was killing him by degrees. He backed away only for as long as it took him to relieve himself of his shirt. His skin was feverishly hot and silky beneath her hands, and she combed her fingers through the fine layer of dark curls over his chest. She recaptured his fingers, lapping at them with teasing licks.
“Yer gonna drive me crazy,” he admitted roughly. Logan reached down and jerked the hem of her shirt up over her smooth belly, narrow and gracefully sculpted ribs, and the supple hills of her breasts. Impatiently he dragged the edge of her bra cup down until the plump, stiff aureole popped free. She moaned around his fingers; Logan removed them from her liquid heat and stroked and tugged at her nipple, lubricating it with her own wetness.
“Ahhhh! Please.” Her voice shuddered out of her and stopped completely, hitching in her chest as he took the stimulated, tingling morsel into his mouth. He grunted around it, flattening his tongue against it again and again, swirling around its tip. She felt each pull of his lips between her legs, which had sinuously wrapped themselves around his hips. She studied his face as he bent to the task, watching sucked-in cheeks and his eyes that were closed in rapture. Ororo needed more, and she longed to give him more.
He slowed down only long enough to prime her other nipple for his consumption, feathering his thumb over it through the satin before peeling down that cup, too. The blue waffle knit shirt was bunched beneath her chin, and her eyes were clenched shut as he worked on her. He was insatiable.
“Damn it, darlin’, look how yer makin’ me lose control!” he moaned into her flesh. His voice was ragged and almost sounded helpless. Her fingers clambered up his arms and kneaded his shoulders. Her body shook with sheer need. His kisses traced the undercurves of her breasts and trailed over her ribs. Logan’s tongue greedily spiraled around the divot of her belly button and made her cry out and jerk “ no doubt taking umbrage for her prior attack of his tickle spots. Her back arched as she offered herself up to him one desperate inch at a time. As he descended the length of her body, he dragged off the offending thick sweats hiding the rest of her glorious body from him.
His first taste of musk awoke the Beast. Logan shuddered with hunger and struggled to control himself, but her scent provoked him, beckoning to him to slake his thirst.
His eyes glowed golden before he closed them in surrender. His voice vibrated through her flesh as he made love to her with his mouth. She bucked into the press of his teeth, gently rasping against her clit as he suckled it. The sounds he made mingled with the crackling flames in the grate. Ororo flung her head back, over and over and caught sight of her struggling shadow falling across the wall. Sensations built in her womb as he focused himself on her.
She was ready for him. Ready to mate. The Beast contemplated the rise and fall of her breasts as he feasted on her, stroking the lissome length of her thighs. Ororo was perfectly formed, all over, every inch a desirable woman. His tongue lapped up her juices and parted the seam of her lips, thrusting inside. Idly his thumb rubbed her pearl, making it hot and swollen. Her cries rose in volume, whether it was his name, a plea or a prayer, he couldn’t tell, except that it was a signal that she was ready to submit.
Soooooo gooooooooood… The Beast nearly purred, then snarled in defiance as Logan pulled his mouth away, breathing over her tingling flesh.
“Show me how much ya want it,” he growled hoarsely, pushing his finger inside. Her walls contracted around him and her hands twisted in her own hair. He worked up a steady rhythm. “Tell me, darlin’!”
“Please! Please, Logan, oh, please!” she begged. He deftly twisted his hand and let his fingers plunge inside, two of them, mimicking his actions in her mouth. That lush, sweet mouth… He laid himself out beside her and kissed her long and hard. She only broke the kiss to cry out as he slipped his fingers in and out, priming her for a coupling that promised to be earth-shaking.
“Tell me ya want me,” he insisted. After Carol’s betrayal, he needed her to make him believe it.
“I want you. Oh, Logan, I want you.”
“Tell me how ya want me. Tell me how much ya want me.” Another ruthlessly deep plunge and twist. His hand grew slick and creamy. When she didn’t answer him quickly enough, he removed his hand. Her eyes flew open, beseechingly to put it back where it belonged, but his eyes bore into hers as he lapped her flavors from his fingers with deliberate slowness. His own eyes drifted shut with the pleasure of her taste. When he opened them, they were dark with predatory intent. She shivered.
“Want you. Want you so bad. Hard. More,” she spelled out, even though thought went by way of all good things when he took her clothes off. “Deep inside me.” She reached for him, but he feinted out of her reach.
Her feet had other ideas. They hooked themselves around his legs and twined around them to hold him close.
“I want you all night. I want you right now.” Her feet stroked his calf and slowly, roughly began to drag his thin flannel pajama pants down from his body.
He enveloped her, covering her body and sliding hotly over it with his. The rasp of his crisp hair made her tingle. Her lips belonged to him. He exulted in it, chanted it like a mantra in his mind as he kissed her breathless. He stilled her bucking hips only long enough to sheathe himself inside. She was tight, hot, wet and yielding, pulsing around his dick. All reason left him. He tipped back his head and closed his eyes.
“Darlin’…aw, God help me! Feel…so…damn good,” he cried, punctuating each word with a shunt of his hips.
He filled her completely; she nearly sobbed at the deep, sweet stretch and burn of his presence inside her. Pleasure built with each thrust. Her instinct was to rise up and meet him, but he would have none of it.
“Hands up. Over yer head,” he grunted. Through her fog of need she did as she was told while he held her hips still.
He pounded into her, sending ripples through her womb. A faint sheen of sweat coated their bodies as they made love, partaking of a mating in every sense of the word.
Ororo was his. His. Now, and forever more…
“Yer mine, darlin’!”
“I’m yours! Oh, God, Logan, I’m yours! Please!” Her nipples were impossibly stiff pebbles. Her skin was flushed and glowing in the firelight, and her fall of blazing white hair was tousled as she turned her face into it, thrashing back and forth.
Her body possessed him. The Beast howled, reverberating through his consciousness and making him pump and thrust even faster.
His climax surged through him. Every muscle locked up and went taut. His hips and lower spine spasmed in wave after wave of release. She felt the hot spill of his seed, overflowing and saturating her. When he peered down into her face through his grimace of relief and fulfillment, he saw that she was already far gone, rapt with pleasure. Then, and only then, did he allow her to free her hands and embrace him. They rocked together in sync. They were one voice crying out, one thundering heartbeat.
They clung to each other in the dark.
Ororo luxuriated beneath him. The sherpa rug felt decadently thick at her back, and the weight of Logan’s hot, firm body relaxing in repose against her was just as heady and addictive. Their limbs twined together as he rested his head just below her collarbones, inhaling her scent. She stroked him languorously, and he sighed in approval, sated.
Later that night:
Logan didn’t remember much about how they’d arrive in his bed. Ororo slumbered beside him, dressed once again in her waffle thermal and bikini briefs, but the sweats lay in a heap along with his pants. Absently Logan stroked the back of her hand that rested on his chest. Her breathing was deep and slow. He inhaled the scent of her hair and nuzzled her, kissing the bridge of her nose.
How did he feel so strongly about her, so soon?
Memories of each time they’d met ran through his mind like a choppy motion picture. He picked through each frame slowly, objectively, savoring his favorite parts. Ice cream in winter.
Yet it frightened him. Intervening when she was attacked changed the dynamic. When he’d met Carol, they followed the usual rules. They called. They chatted. They went on safe dates to safe places and had safe conversations for several weeks before they moved on to keeping a toothbrush in each other’s bathrooms. They courted “in the usual way.” Attraction and friendship turned to love.
Obsession. It gripped him from the moment Ororo opened her tortured eyes while she lay on the asphalt. They’d shared the worst moment in either of their lives the first time they met. Logan would never be the same. He’d never obsessed over Carol. Never had this constant, abiding need to protect her like he felt for ‘Ro. Was it love at first sight? No. Second sight? If it meant that the rest of the world faded and blurred into the background while he saw, heard and felt only her, then yes.
But that fateful night, Ororo was his angel with clipped wings.
Ororo’s body blanketed him, and she sighed in her sleep. Her fingers drifted up to his face for a moment; he froze as they grazed, then traced the bumpy scar under his chin, trailing a jagged line of puckered, shiny skin down his neck.
Both of them, attacked in the middle of the night. Both survivors, he mused. Topaz, predator’s eyes glowed in the dark whenever he dreamed.
The moon rose, emerging from the misty black clouds. Pearly white, voluptuous, pure; a sight meant for lovers.
“No,” he whispered. “Aw, God, no!”
[Reviews - 122]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story |
Has been viewed 1862 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story | - Text Size +
You must login () to review.
