Page 77 of Ruined

Logan sees through my attempt, though. He always knows what’s really on my mind. “Oliver… you have to understand. Your mom was trying to do what she thought was best for her family. For you.”

“By cheating on you and forcing you to go no contact with me?” I mutter.

“It’s not so simple. Sometimes, we make the choices we think will hurt the least based on the options we have, but we don’t always succeed.”

I suppose he’s right. From where I stand, her choices seem mostly selfish, though. When Logan left our family, I was thirteen, and I guess she thought I didn’t need a parent by that point.

She still cared, or at least she cared about practical stuff. She cared that I was going to college. She helped me apply and look for a place to stay. But she never hugged me. Never asked me how my day had been or how I was feeling. That was always Logan.

I look up at him, absorbing the calming effect he has on me. God, I love him. I’ve always loved him, even when he was gone. I never stopped, even though I tried. And all this time, it was never his choice to abandon me. It was hers.

He came into my life because of her, and he left it because of her. But when we reconnected, it wasn’t her doing. She has no say over our relationship anymore; it’s all up to us.

“Hey.” Logan strokes my shoulder, noticing the tears welling up in my eyes.

I inhale a shaky breath. “If… if she’d allowed you to, would you have wanted to stay in my life?”

His eyes widen at the question, and when he speaks, his voice is heavy, full of regret. “Of course I would have.”

I smile at the bittersweet ache in my chest. If we’d stayed in touch, I doubt we would’ve met the way we did. If I’d always stayed his stepson, he probably wouldn’t have allowed himself to transition our relationship into what it is today. So, I suppose in some ways, what happened was for the best, though my thirteen-year-old self would disagree.

I decide to drop the subject and ask him something else I’ve been wondering instead. “Before Mom yelled at you… What were you about to say?”

“I was going to tell her I love you,” he says earnestly.

I stare up at him, my heart skipping a beat. “Really?”

He smiles. “Is that a surprise to you?”

“No, just, um…” I trip over my words, my chest swirling with emotions. Logan squeezes my shoulder, patiently waiting for me to gather my thoughts. Eventually, I manage to ask, “In what way?”

“In what way, what?”

“In what way do you… love me?” My voice is filled with hope. I just want him to confirm it. I already know, I think, and I…

“This way.” He leans down and tilts my face to his, kissing my lips. The kiss lingers for a while, but not long enough, and I immediately want more. “Does that make it clear to you?”

I make a soft little sound, my hand grasping his shirt. “Yes.” Then I remember I should say it back, but I’m still tripping over my words. “I love you too—in that way. But um, you already knew that, I think.” My cheeks are burning.

He cups my face in his hands, and his eyes glimmer as he gazes down at me. I want him so badly—want so many things that aren’t fit for the backyard of our past lives. They’re only fit for our future, for the people we’ve become. Who love each other, and who won’t be ashamed of loving each other, despite what the world might think.

He pulls me into a hug. “Now, let Daddy take you home.”

That evening, we end up ordering in and cuddling on the couch in front of a movie. Daddy gives me all the kisses I want and lets me snuggle as close to him as possible. Before our touches can turn any more heated, though, I end up falling asleep against his shoulder. When the movie’s over, I wake up momentarily while he carries me to the bedroom.

I’m too sleepy to have sex, which kind of sucks, but sleeping in his arms is the next best thing. My last memory before I drift off is his lips pressing to my forehead and his soft whisper in my ear. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.”

And I do. I sleep like a baby, better than I’ve slept in weeks. We went to bed early, so I wake up before his alarm. Logan’s still sleeping, but I feel needy, so I climb over his body and straddle his hips. While waiting for him to wake up, I nuzzle his neck, inhaling his scent and enjoying the heat of his body. He’s always so warm, so soft, and so safe.

As he stirs awake, his hand comes up to run over my back. “How did you sleep?”

I give a happy sigh into his neck. “So good. Love sleeping with Daddy.”

His chest rumbles with a pleased grunt. I move my hips a little, pushing up against his growing cock. We frot sleepily for a while, our cocks grinding together until our underwear grows wet with precum.

Struck by the urge to taste him, I shift down his body and settle between his hairy thighs. Pulling his underwear down and freeing his cock, I put the head between my lips. His gasp of pleasure never fails to make me moan.

I still find it difficult to get more than half of him into my mouth, but he gives me all the encouragement I need, groaning, “Yes,” and, “Just like that,” and, “Good boy.” His praise paired with his throbbing cock in my mouth drives me insane with want. Unthinking, I grind against his thigh, and with unashamed rolls of my hips, I make him all sloppy with saliva as I work my mouth tirelessly up and down his shaft.