If this is a dream, let me sleep for the next hundred years, Logan thought as Marie pushed his knees apart, knelt between his legs, and ran her fingernails up his thighs.
She danced her way up his body, breathing hotly against his skin. Little puffs of air ghosted up his neck, her lips so close it almost felt like she was touching him.
“Oh, Marie, please,” he groaned, throwing his head back and gripping the chair for dear life. “If you want,” he forced himself to add through gritted teeth. “Don’t want you to feel like you have to—“
She stood and stopped him with a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. I’m in control, remember?”
He smirked, looking up into her eyes as he kissed her finger. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.
She laughed, replacing her finger with her lips, kissing him sweetly as she climbed into his lap.
His tongue darted out to lick his lips when she pulled away. “You taste even better than you smell,” he mumbled, utterly drunk on her.
“Um, thanks.”
It was a pretty weird compliment, he supposed, especially for someone who didn’t understand his . . . unusual senses. But he didn’t really have time to be self-conscious about it, as she wove her fingers into his hair, settled into his lap, and proceeded to ride him through his jeans.
This was definitely a dream. Had to be.
She settled more of her weight on him, and Logan thrust up against her involuntarily. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he whispered incoherently as waves of pleasure rolled through him. “You move those hips so good. Love the way you dance for me. Arrrghh, feels so good.”
“I’m glad it’s good for you, Logan,” she said, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “So glad I can please you.”
"Consider me pleased," he groaned. "Happiest man alive. Jesus."
She brought his hands up and placed them on her hips, then drew her tongue over the shell of his ear—and suddenly, it didn’t feel like just a lap dance anymore.
It felt like sex, and he wanted to make it good for her. He needed to please her too. He pushed her up off him, urging her to turn around and sit back in his lap. She did, resting her head back on his shoulder.
She started to roll her body again, grinding her hips in circles. “This what you want, sugar?”
He turned his head to the side and captured her lips in a kiss. “Perfect . . . can I touch you, baby?” he asked, one arm wrapped firmly around her waist as his other hand drew circles up her inner thigh. “Would that be okay?”
Her eyes were heavy-lidded. "No touching in a lap dance, Mr. Logan," she breathed.
He nuzzled her nose with his and kissed her again. "I'm changin' the rules," he growled, bringing his fingers up to rub her lightly through the silk.
She moaned. "I th-thought I was . . . ahhh . . . in control, ohhhh . . ."
Logan brought his other hand up to cup her breast. He mumbled into her mouth, "Of course, honey. Just tell me to stop, and I will."
"N-not a chance. Oh, yes, ohh, Logan . . ."
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