by Amanda Faye
"Fuuuck, Austen. I'm going to have you bent over a bed somewhere wearing nothing but those strappy fucking heels and this hip-hugging bodysuit before the sun hits the sky tomorrow. I promise you that."
His mouth is trailing kisses and nibbles down my throat, and if he's not careful, I'm going to be marked by the time we make our way back into the dinner.
Dropping to his knees in front of me, he moves my dress to the side and uses his hands to bunch the front up around my hips.
His sharp intake of breath was all the warning I have before his tongue was licking my inner leg from knee till his nose is buried in my panties.
Releasing my dress, he takes my scrap of panties and gently pulls them down my legs, lifting each foot and kissing my ankle before pulling them free of my body.
Catching me completely off guard, he lifts my panties to his face and inhales before shoving them into his suit pants.
"You won't be needing these anymore tonight."
I can't speak. A thousand thoughts are skipping through my brain, ranging from 'so fucking hot,' to 'hey, those are mine,' to 'I wonder if that just made me come?' But Logan has suddenly stolen my ability to put my thoughts into coherent conversation.
Taking my silence as encouragement, he bunches my dress at my hip again and lifts my right knee so that it rests over his shoulder. The leg that's now supporting my weight immediately gets a fine tremble in it.
When Logan's lips latch onto the sensitive skin in my upper thigh, the tremble spreads from my leg up into my abdominal muscles. This position may physically kill me, but what a way to go.
"Watch me, Austen."
My pants echo loudly in the silence of the room, and I'm on the verge of spontaneously combusting as he sucks on two of his fingers, then dips them inside of me. He flattens his tongue against me and licks a stripe against my flesh. Then he goes to work on my clit, tracing words and patterns that only he knows into that most sensitive of tissues. He never takes his eyes from mine, watching me from underneath his lashes.
I left my dignity in the banquet hall, and with one hand on his shoulder and the other curled into his hair, I grind myself against his face.
Rather than worry about suffocation, Logan grabs me by the ass and helps me ride his face, eating me like it's his last meal.
His, 'yes, yesss,' growls out against my clit, the vibrations finally breaking the damn, and sending me crashing over the edge with my orgasm.
Logan lets me ride him through it, practically supporting my entire body weight against his arms and shoulders. When my hips are only twitching with spontaneous aftershocks, he lowers my other leg to the ground and kisses up and down my legs again, making sure I'm steady on my feet before he climbs back onto his own.
"That was—that was—." It's all I'm able to get out, and frankly, I think I deserve a gold medal for managing that much. All of my muscles have turned to jello, and I desperately need to take these shoes off.
"Oh, no, baby. We're not done yet."
The sight of him popping the button on his slacks and pulling down the zipper sends shivers of desire zinging down my spine. Watching him stroke his own dick just flat out does it for me, and I feel my own moisture dripping down the tops of my thighs.
That's when I finally take a look at where he's brought us. We're in a closet with nothing other than a mop and some other cleaning supplies to be found. There's no desk, no shelves, and he's out of his mind if he thinks I'm getting on this floor in this dress.
With one hand on my hip and the other still stroking himself, he closes the distance between us and kisses me again. His kisses have become sloppy and uncoordinated, and it's intoxicating to know that I did that to him.
With his hand still on his cock, he teases the tip against my folds, and I moan into his mouth, desperate to bring us closer still. Without thinking, I hook my leg around his thigh, and he responds with a grin against my lips.
"That's my girl, ups a daisy."
With both hands on my ass, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms, both my legs wrapped around him now.
"Oh, God Logan. Yes! But no baby, I'm too big. That'll never work."
Slowly he brings his lips away from my neck to look me in the eye.
"Oh, ye of little faith. You're perfect, Austen. Perfect."
With that, he slides inside, and all further protests die on my lips.
"Do you like it when I tell you how fucking gorgeous you are when I fuck you, Austen?"
I try to answer him, but I've lost the ability to speak in any language known to man. All that comes out is an unintelligible array of grunts and whimpers as he fulfills yet another of my dirtiest desires.
"Well then, let me tell you how breathtaking you are when I'm buried balls deep inside of you. It's all I think about. It's all I dream about. I could spend the rest of my life inside you and die, having lived a life well spent."
Logan should get a side gig writing a book on how to talk dirty to women because he is a freaking master at it.
The secret fantasy playing out in real life combined with the serious possibility of being caught only heightens the pressure building inside of me, and I squeeze my orgasm out around him in under a minute flat. I bury my face in his suit jacket to cover my cries as Logan loses all sense of rhythm, pounding me into the wall with everything he's got. I spare a second to mourn the back of my dress before he's coming with my name on his lips, and I let mortal concerns like plaster on my clothes float away on a cloud.
Logan, lost in the haze of his own coming to God moment, loosens his hold on me, and I slip down until my feet hit the linoleum and gain purchase. I'm tall enough with the heels on to support him against me and try to offer him the same security that he gave to me when he was supporting my weight.
I run my fingers through his hair as I do to Brandon when he's woken from a bad dream, and we stand there in comfortable silence while we wait for our bodily functions to return, his head on my shoulder, his arms wrapped around my waist.
The realities of sex are currently making their way down my legs, and while I'm reluctant to ruin the moment, it's becoming— well, cum dripping down your legs it just gross. Not to mention my legs are quaking to the point I'm close to losing stability.
Using whatever magical sex God sixth sense he has, Logan gently pulls himself off of me. Cupping my face in his hand, he leans his forehead against my own. My eyes close, and I enjoy the simple pleasure of him seeking comfort from me, then he pecks me softly on the lips and separates us completely.
It takes me by surprise how bereft I suddenly feel without him against me, and I avert my eyes as he tucks himself back into his pants and tries, mostly successfully, to put his clothes back into some semblance of order.
"Logan? I know it's all kind of wrong, but would you unhook my shoes for me? I don't think I'll make it more than three steps in these things before my legs give out underneath me. I have a pair of flats at my table."
Logan brings a hand to his chest and looks as if I've said something scandalous.
"Take off the shoes? Blasphemy!"
The pout on his face is adorable.
"Fine,” he says, “but only because I like you so much. Don't lose them. We still need 'em."
His wink is so ridiculous that once again, I find myself giggling like a schoolgirl. I hate what this man does to me.
Lowering on one knee, he removes the right shoe, and a groan of sweet relief rips from my lips.
"Why don't you make those sorts of noises for me love? Now I'm going to get all worked up again."
I chuck him on his shoulder and enjoy the way he wobbles in his precarious position, but don't grace him with a response. After rubbing my foot for a few seconds, he places it on the cold floor and picks up the other, repeating his ministrations.
Still on one knee, he pulls his hanky from his coat pocket.
"May I?"
It takes me a minute before I realize what he's asking, and when I do, I blush brighter than a fire hyd
rant. Unable to bring my voice to work, I nod and feel my chest squeeze as he softly takes his handkerchief and cleans the remains of our sex from my body.
When I've reached his satisfaction, he balls the scrap of fabric in his hand and shoves it into his pocket. Speaking of pockets…
"Can I have my panties back now, please?"
"No."
"Excuse me? I need my underwear, Logan. Have you seen this dress? The risk of accidentally flashing a room full of hospital donors is real. Give them back."
His eyes darken at my words, and I see desire flash across his face. My chest quivers at the sight, and I feel the tremble return to my extremities despite the fact that the offending pair of footwear has been removed.
"The panties are mine. That sweet little pussy of yours is mine, and you, Emma Adams, are mine. That was our deal, remember? That you belong to me, at least until you say otherwise. Now I'm sorry to have to go all caveman on you. Maybe I should have told the infant that was hitting on me earlier that I'm the one with the possessive streak. But mine you are, and therefore so are your panties. Please try not to flash anyone. I'd hate to go to jail tonight."
Great, not only am I wet again, but I'm never going to be able to sleep with another man without hearing that hot as fuck little speech in my head. Thanks, Logan.
Shaking himself like he's trying to dislodge a fly, he straightens his cufflinks and peaks his head out of the door. Handing me my shoes, he presents me his arm to escort me out of the closet.
"After you, my dear."
Chapter 15
Logan
I peek up through my lashes and relish the ecstasy stretched across Emma's face. One of her hands are fisted in my sheets, and the other is tangled in my hair.
I slow my pace with my tongue and slip a second finger into her cunt. Moving my mouth from her clit, I kiss and lick the curve of her thighs, sucking and biting just enough to see the results in her skin.
My phone blares from the pile of clothes dropped haphazardly around the room, and I pause momentarily, but it's just Amanda's ringtone, and I bring my lips back to Emma's core. Seconds after the ringing stops, my facetime ringer starts, and I groan out in frustration.
"Just get it before it starts all over again."
I hear the exasperation in her voice, and my body responds in kind. I wrap my lips around her lower lips and suck hard, enjoying the whimper it rips from her, then clamber off the bed as the ringing stops, then starts again.
A flash of concern washes through me, and I dig in my pants pocket to pull out my phone before the ringing stops this time.
Amanda's picture takes up my whole screen, and I grimace in Emma's direction before I hit the button to accept the call.
Instead of Amanda on the other side, I'm face to face with a crying seven-year-old, tears and snot both dripping down her chin.
"Ellie sweetheart, what's wrong? Where are your mothers? What happened?"
I'm still naked, and I sit on the edge of the bed and pull the corner of the sheet over my lap. Ridiculous since she can't see below my shoulders, but still. She's my niece.
"Mommy and Mommy," gasp, "are horrible," gulp, "and I hate them!"
She squishes up her face, and the screen jostles as she maneuvers around her room, finally coming to a stop on her bed.
I look to the side and see Emma sitting up in bed, hands covering her mouth to keep her laughter out of the ears of my goddaughter. Trying to keep my own face under control, I give my full attention back to Ellie.
◆◆◆
Fifteen minutes later, the whole story is revealed. I've scooted up next to Emma on the bed, and she's playing with the hair on my stomach while I deal with the drama back home.
Apparently, an asshat at her school, oh excuse me, a little boy, was making fun of Ellie because when they had the family dance at school last week, Ellie brought two mommies instead of a mom and a dad. I feel a surge of guilt at this because I went with them to that last year. When Ellie lost her patience with the teasing, instead of complaining to the teacher, again, she turned around and popped the boy in the face.
What I want to do is congratulate her and take her out for ice cream, but unfortunately, that isn't the correct response here.
She's suspended from school for two days, which she thinks is bullshit since she only hit him because of his own ignorance. Her words, not mine. Zoe and Amanda grounded her for a week. I started to lecture her for her language, then stopped. How many children her age even know what bullshit and ignorant mean. The prodigy of doctors, that's how many.
I got multiple texts from Amanda and Zoe while Elli was ranting from her bedroom, giving me the adult version of things. When they took her phone from her, she took Amanda's then locked herself in her room. Man, I wish I could give my little girl a hug right now. They had to fight to keep her from being expelled, and only after Zoe said that she'd take it to the news that a child was being bullied for her parents' sexual orientation did they agree to a suspension. I said they better take her out of that school now.
"Sweetie, you know you can't come live with me, and I'll be home soon anyway. What your parents did was right. We're healers baby girl; we don't hurt people. Even people that we think deserve it. If your teacher doesn't listen to you when you tell her that you are being made to feel uncomfortable, then go find another adult until they will listen to you.
"What I can do is send Uncle Liam to visit you at school and maybe Uncle Rob too. Let me know what day you go back, and I'll make sure they visit you in class that day. Point the little asshole out to them. We'll show the punk that not only do you have two mommies, but you have enough uncles to field a soccer team, and we're all super big and super scary. I may not be there right now, but I trust Uncle Liam to take care of my best girl."
It's hard not to smile when she's laying her best drama down for my reaction.
"Okay. Who's the pretty lady I keep seeing on your phone?"
Emma takes an audible breath, then shakes her head in that frantic way she did when we met again in the hospital hallway before ducking down into the bed. I can't help but roll my eyes at her. I put the phone in my other hand and angle it so that Emma isn't in the frame at all anymore.
"She is pretty, isn't she? She's my new friend. Her name is Emma, but I call her Austen. Can you guess why?"
"She must have a weirdo for a mommy, too, huh?"
Emma's laughter bursts out of her, and Ellie stretches her neck, trying to see Emma through the phone. After hiking the sheet up to her shoulders, I move the phone so that Emma is wholly in the frame. She shoots me a death glare but then faces my Ellie with a smile.
"Hi, Ellie. Your Uncle Logan has told me so much about you."
"Hi, Ms. Emma. It's nice to meet you."
I swell with pride at the polite little girl she's presenting to Emma, mainly because Emma has spent the last twenty minutes listening to a little girl who was more monster than an angel. I wish they could meet for real — my Austen girls.
"She does have a weirdo for a mommy, yes. Not only that, but Emma is a twin."
"Like baby Becca and Rey?"
I face Emma first.
"Becca and Rey are Liam and Sami's twins. Girls, obviously. They're coming up on two years old. Liam is my best friend outside of Ellie's mother. We all work and live together, kinda like you guys here."
Facing Ellie again, "And yes, except Emma's twin is a boy. And his name is Darcy!"
Ellie scrunches up her face in displeasure.
"Oh, boy, don't tell mommy that. She'll name my baby brother that for sure!"
Emma again bursts into laughter, mumbling that she can't wait to tell Darcy that a seven-year-old made fun of him, and my heart swells just a little bit more.
We talk for a few more minutes, and by the time we click off, Ellie's my smiling baby girl again, even if she's still pissed that her mom's grounded her.
Checking the time on my phone, I drop it into my lap and run my fingers through my hair.
Emma's motions on my skin still, and I turn to look at her questioning gaze.
"You're close to her."
"Yeah, she's the most important person in my life. Amanda, she's my best friend. We grew up together— and by that I mean we lived in the same building since infancy. We went to elementary school together, high school, college, med school. We took separate residencies. Our friends and family had convinced us that we needed to try to see who we were without the other. But I knew who I was — an asshole with anger issues. When an intern dropped out of her program within the first few weeks of residency, I scooped it up and drove the 1400 miles back home. This is the longest I've ever been away from them."
I see the questions only deepen on her face, but I know she'd never ask out loud. Personal issues aren't supposed to be a part of our arrangement.
"Ask, I know you want to."
"Amanda is gay. Are you in love with her?"
"What?"
It starts as a small rumble, but within seconds, laugher is bursting out of my chest. It feels good to relax like this, and I try to calm down and wipe the tears that have escaped my eyes. That is not the question I was expecting.
"No. Amanda is like super gay, and always has been. She's my sister, in every way that counts. You know the way people talk about you and Darcy, well that's Amanda and me. She's just my very best friend. I'd do anything for those guys. Anything."
I'm waiting because I know the question that's next. It's what everyone asks.
"Are...are you Ellie's father?" There it is.
"Biologically, you mean?"
A nod of her head is her only reply.
I know this has to be in some violation of our no intimacy rule, but it feels nice, sitting here with her like this. I reach a hand up and rub my thumb across her cheek, cupping her face in my palm, then grab her hand with my other one.