My mind falters for a moment. Why is this happening, I wonder. Then I look at the house number and start laughing.

“We’re at the wrong house,” I tell Logan, who’s too consumed with burying his face into my neck, to notice anything but me. We only missed by one house, which is not bad going considering how preoccupied we are. Leaving the porch of number seven, I pull Logan next door to number nine, where we’re admitted without hesitation.

I insist on showering before beginning our evening of candy-sex-fun. If Logan’s going to cover me in various forms of sugar-work and lick everything off, then I want to be clean for him, and cleanse away the memories of my bad workday.

He follows me into the shower which, naturally, means that something that should take a few minutes takes a lot longer. I’m not complaining; I love being in here with him, watching the water cascade down his taut chest and stomach. I love feeling his hands glide all over my body, and I love the way he gazes at me through the steam, with both love and anticipation.

Afterwards he doesn’t give me the chance to properly dry off, but rather picks me up, despite my protests, and carries me the short distance to my bed.

Dropping me onto the sheets, he says, “Everything will stick better if you’re wet.”

My heart hammers in my chest, and I suspect that he has no clue just how arousing his simple words are to me. I stare up at him and feel that familiar carnal longing course through my body. Oh, I just know he’s going to tease me like he’s never teased me before. I know this evening is going be the perfect combination of torture and pleasure, and Logan wastes no time in getting started.

Within minutes, I’m covered with most of the contents of the bag. The whole bed is flooded with Logan’s favourite candy and I know already that these sheets are going to be ruined but I utterly fail to care. The sherbet, which I surmise is Logan’s favourite, sticks all over my chest, breasts, and arms, and as he straddles me, inadvertently holding me down, he begins licking and sucking it off.

I moan under his touch. It would be a sensual, slow-burning turn on if I weren’t already turned on to the max, but as I am, the sensation of his tongue on me and the gentle murmuring of his voice, drives me completely wild with need. I close my eyes and savour it, letting myself get more and more wound up with every touch, every lick, every kiss.

“I want to tell you what I saw when I watched you pleasure yourself on Saturday night,” Logan says quietly.

I moan again when he moves down my body, purposefully avoiding my sex, to kiss my inner-thighs.

“Tell me,” I urge him, thrilled by the prospect of hearing his point of view. Though I’m also wary, wary that for the first time in my life I might orgasm from anticipation alone.

“I felt like I didn’t have enough eyes,” Logan chuckles, sucking and licking his way down one of my legs.

“So…so there was more than one spot that you watched?” I pant, resting my hand on my belly button for a moment and then moving it slowly south. I thought he would’ve watched my sex, for sure.

“Yes,” he breathes, catching my hand before I am able to touch myself and relieve the ache that’s building in my groin. I know this is all part of his ploy, part of his intention to strengthen my orgasm. He puts my hand back onto the bed, and I cooperate, keeping it there.

“You’re very good at arching your back,” he then says unexpectedly. “I was mesmerised by that,” he continues. “It was arched like a rainbow, with a pot of gold at either end.”

Oh, Logan! My mouth drops open, another moan escaping me. I’ve never been described so poetically or erotically before. My heart rate spikes. My body groans. This windup is too good, too pleasurable, too intense.

“I watched the top of the rainbow,” he murmurs, his hands running from my belly button up my torso to my breasts which he cups and squeezes gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.”

“Logan,” I whimper. I can’t remember ever feeling so turned on without his hands or lips being on my sex. “I want you so badly,” I mewl.

He smiles and I know immediately that the tease is not over yet. “Baby,” he coos, “I promise you, it’ll be worth the wait.”

If I weren’t in such a heightened erotic state, I would roll my eyes at him. Fuck! I know it will be worth it.

He then brings his lips to mine, a sweet between his teeth. Opening up I accept it from him. It’s overly chewy in an artificial kind of way.

“Yum,” I whisper against his lips. “And I don’t mean the candy.”

He smiles against my mouth, “Yum is my thought exactly, Gemima.” He thrusts his tongue against mine, kissing me fiercely, passionately. All too soon he’s gone again, back down south, kissing and sucking his way down my other leg.

Instead of focussing on reaching my orgasm, I relax into the rhythm with him, basking in the pleasurable feelings, letting them wash over me.

“Then there were the two pots of gold,” Logan continues his tale. “Pot number one,” he smiles against my inner-thigh, indicating my downstairs, “holy shit was that incredible,” he breathes. “Watching your hands work, seeing what you like, committing it to memory,” he confesses. “But when you came, that’s not where I looked,” he says slowly, deliberately, moving back up my body and bringing his lips to mine once more. “Because of pot number two,” he strokes my face. “The curve of your neck,” he tells me, “your mouth open and calling my name, your cheeks flushed, your eyelashes fluttering. I was captivated. Completely, irrevocably captivated, Gemima,” he says against my lips. “And after you orgasmed your whole body went loose, you sighed, and your lips formed a very small, satisfied smile.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Wow. Just…wow! I don’t even know what my body’s doing anymore, his words have distracted me entirely. He always manages to outdo himself. His attention to detail staggers me each and every time.

He grins at me, kisses my lips once, and then whispers. “Turn over, please.”

In my dazed state, I roll onto my tummy and immediately his hands are on me once more, running up and down my legs, covering me in sherbet. I officially hate that stuff, in a really good kind of way. He starts at my ankle, sucking and licking his way up my leg, and as he gets closer to my groin my body starts quivering in anticipation. I feel it again, that aching sensation, even stronger than before. He starts on the other leg, repeating his glorious, torturous process.

“You are so incredibly beautiful, Gemima,” he whispers against my skin. Then he pulls me up from the waist and pushes my feet up the bed so that my knees fold under me, leaving me with my ass in the air, and the sight of me fully exposed to him.

“Don’t even think about putting sherbet there,” I tell him, and he laughs in response.

“I’ll trade you, sherbet for something else…”

“What?” I ask, my eyes frantically scanning over the bed looking for something that he might want to place down below.

He watches me, amused. “All I want, my love, is for you to widen your legs and lift your ass a little higher off of the bed,” he says, alluring.

A shiver runs through me. The tease is finally over, I think happily, as I do as he asks. He’s finally going to let me feel him. And he does, in a fashion.

Lying on his back, Logan places his head between my thighs, his lips against my sex. He whispers, “My favourite candy of them all.”

Then he devours me, my whole body shaking when he sucks my clitoris hard. Holy shit! I moan and writhe against him amazed that, after being together in so many ways, he still manages to push me to new heights.

I crane my neck and cast my eyes upwards to the mirrors on the ceiling.