by Amanda Faye
Not that there was ever a possibility of Emma meeting my mom in the real world. The thought never even broached my subconscious. But for all intents and purposes, met my mother she did, and a rounding success it was.
It's amazing I didn't accidentally send a dick pic to my mom last night with how many different messages I had going. Besides Emma and the group chat, my mom and Mandy messaged me on the side too. Mom already loves Emma, if for no other reason that she listened to the ridiculousness that is our family for hours last night. Mandy is a heartbeat away from asking Emma if she'd like to join us all in New York for some sort of poly arrangement.
Good morning to you too. I'm surprised you aren't still asleep. We were up pretty late last night.
Heck yeah, we were. Every encounter I have with her, I find something new to fall in lust with. In the real world, her skin is fairly sensitive. She bruises easily, and even the smallest physical stimuli can have her calling out in pain.
In the throes of passion, though, she can not only tolerate a little pain but craves the additional stimulation. Testing her boundaries has been an exciting experience for both of us.
Quite on accident, I left a perfect impression of my teeth on her inner thigh last night. Which reminds me…
I had the first pre-op time this morning. I've already been in and out of surgery. I'll nap later. Are you okay today? I hope I didn't hurt you.
I look up from leaning against the wall just in time to see a blonde ponytail crossing the corridor in front of me, grey turtleneck under her scrub top. Her bottoms hug to her ass like the softest of silk, and never before have I envied a piece of clothing. Her head is down, nose buried in her phone, and I know she hasn't seen me lounging outside the post-op ward.
Pushing off, I fall into step several paces behind her and enjoy the lightning of desire that pulses through me as she reaches up and gives her hair a firm yank. I wonder if she realizes that she does that every time she gets turned on.
I'm fine, thanks for checking on me.
Fine? That's all I'm getting from her? We can do better than that, I think.
Are you sure? Because I still remember the way it felt last night. You, sitting on my face with my dick halfway down your throat. My fingers in your pussy. The way your flesh gave away under my teeth when I marked you with my bite.
She stops dead in her tracks, looking both ways before wrapping her tail around her hand and giving it a few sharp tugs. I pause as well, stepping back a few paces so that there is more space between us.
It hurts this morning. But I'm glad it does.
I hiss my next breath in through my teeth and glance around as I quickly adjust myself.
She turns unexpectedly, and I jog to catch up, my hopes plummeting when I see she's turned into the women's restroom.
My heart is hammering in my chest so hard I'm afraid it may bust through my ribcage, but steeling my nerves, I look all directions and push my way through the door.
Emma is leaning up against the counter, one hand under the stream of water splashing her face, the other supporting her weight against the marble.
Looking to see who joined her, she gasps out my name and quickly starts to scan the bottom of the stalls to see if we have company.
The sound of my name on her lips like that goes directly to my already painfully hard dick.
This is one of the smaller restrooms on this floor, designed for employees only, and as soon as I'm sure we're alone, I swing the lock on the door.
"I wanna see it."
She knows what I'm talking about. Just like I knew she would, she protests.
"Logan! This is a women's restroom. Get out of here before you get fired."
I close the gap between us and start in on the knot at the top of her scrub bottoms.
"If it hurts, it's my duty to make it better. Since I caused the pain and all, drop your fucking pants."
Without further ado, she nods her agreement, rather emphatically, and pushes her pants down and off her hips. She keeps her panties on, though. Lifting her under her asscheeks, I plop her onto the countertop and spread her legs as far as the pants around her ankles will allow.
There it is, the perfect imprint of my teeth. Upside down, maybe, but it might be the single most erotic thing I've ever seen in my life.
Without hesitation, I bring my lips to it, gently pressing kisses around the bruise that has formed along with my marking. She lets loose a moan of appreciation and presses her hand to my head, trying to up the ante, I think. I open my mouth and let my tongue lick the wound, but never put any pressure that could cause her additional pain.
"Go out with me."
I'm not sure where that came from. I certainly hadn't planned on asking Emma that when I followed her in here. But now that I've said it, I realize I want it more than I've wanted anything in a long time. This— thing— with her included.
"Seriously, Logan? I'm with you all the time. Besides, it's against the rules, and I don't even like you."
The look on her face as she stares down at me on my knees between her thighs is a mixture of exasperation and amusement, and it rips a smile from my own face. Calling forth on the considerable charm God graced me with, I give her my best puppy dog eyes. Then, in case that fails, I slide my tongue up her panty covered pussy.
"I'll make it worth your wild. Please. Just one date. I'll make you come till one of us begs for mercy afterward. Promise."
An honest to God growl escapes her lips and goes straight to my gut.
"Fine. Whatever. I'll go out on a date with you. Now stop teasing me you ass!"
She digs her hand into my hair again and pushes me against her. Alas, it isn't meant to be.
My pager dings as soon as my nose reaches her exquisite smell, and I nose her damp panties while bringing my pager to where I can see it.
"Oops, gotta go." Pulling myself to my feet, I yank her off the counter and plop a wet messy kiss on her stunned unmoving lips before I skip to the door and throw the lock again.
I'm as peaceful as a honey bee as I glance both ways before floating out of the bathroom, leaving Emma sputtering like a steam engine behind me, pants still around her ankles.
Chapter 20
Emma
"Why are you avoiding me?"
Lost in my own little world, I didn't hear Darcy sneak up behind me. He startles me so thoroughly that I slam my locker closed and jump in my shoes.
Taking a moment to wipe the guilty expression off of my face, I gulp in a fortifying breath and turn to face my brother.
"I'm not avoiding you. I'm working."
Darcy crosses his arms over his chest and plants his feet in front of me, and damn you, Esme, for commenting on how similar that is to Logan.
"Yes, you are. You're hiding something from me. Spill it."
My fight or flight instinct has always been stronger than most, and unfortunately, I fight when I should flee most times.
Pulling myself up to my own not inconsiderable height, I square off in front of my brother.
"Whether I'm hiding something from you or not isn't any of your business, is it? If I were hiding something, it would be because, news flash, I didn't want you to know."
Maybe not the wittiest comeback I've ever delivered, but it gets the point across. Darcy's face darkens, and I feel him ready to blow. The locker room door opens, and he lets his steam release is an undignified growl that scares the intern back out of the locker room.
Running his hand through his cropped hair, he shakes out some of his tension then straddles the chair beside him backward.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. Now, will you sit and talk to me, dammit." He looks to earnest. He reminds me of a dog we had as kids.
Rolling my eyes, I do as he says, claiming a chair next to him. I pick a spot over his shoulder to focus on, but Darcy snaps in front of my face and makes me meet his eyes. I hate it when he does that. Our Jedi powers, as our mom used to refer to them, always work better when we're making ey
e contact.
"Tell me, sis. What's going on? I know something is happening with you. I can feel it."
"Feel it?" I try to scoff at him outwardly, but inside, a fist closes around my heart and squeezes.
His concern for me is coming off of him in waves.
Somethings happening alright. I'm having the time of my life with a man I should have nothing to do with. Logan makes me feel things in ways I've never felt before. It's dangerous, even if I refuse to admit it out loud. It feels wrong keeping it from Darcy. It feels wrong telling him, though, too.
"Yeah, Em, I feel it. You feel happy, light. I'm not the only one who's noticed it either. There's a bounce in your step I haven't seen in years. Since long before Joe left. Why won't you tell me about it?"
Shivers tickle down my spine, and memories flash through my mind of what's been making me so happy these last few weeks. I can't fight the smile that graces my face, and I'm not even sure I want to.
"Look, it's nothing, alright. Or, nothing for you to worry about at any rate. I'm fine. Brandon is fine. Charlotte's fine. I can't help it if I'm smiling more. Maybe I'm just legit in a good mood. Ever think of that? Why does something have to be going on?"
"I don't know why you just don't want to tell me. Unless you think it's going to make me mad. And honestly, sis, seeing you this," he hesitates here, like he's trying to come up with the right word, "carefree lately— I'm not sure there's much you could tell me that I wouldn't make me happy. Unless you're taking Brandon and moving to OZ."
That was always a joke when we were little. Every time we got mad at one another, we'd claim we were going to OZ or Narnia or some other fantastical land where pain in the ass siblings wouldn't be a problem.
He pushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and I turn my face into the gesture.
"I know you're worried about me. I love you too. But I'm good. Better than great. I promise."
After searching my face for reassurance, he nods and pushes up from the chair. When I follow him, he wraps his arm around my shoulder, and for once, I don't shove him off. Darcy is more than just my brother; he's my other half. We're supposed to face the world side by side.
"Okay, but when you're ready to talk about it, I'm right here."
My other half or not, that'll be a cold day in hell.
Chapter 21
Emma
I can't believe I agreed to this. My heart is beating like I'm a kid going on her first date. Not like a mother in her mid-thirties who has had too many partners to think about.
I've changed my clothes at least a dozen times, which is ridiculous. It's twenty degrees outside, and he's probably never going to see me outside of my coat. Not to mention, in the time that he's been here, he's seen me naked more than he's seen me dressed. I finally settle on my tightest, yet not so snug my belly pops out skinny jeans and a purple maternity sweater. The sweater is designed for breastfeeding, so it's snug at my bust with a low square neckline and falls loosely to my hips from my breasts, covering my stomach entirely.
I take the time to straighten my hair and put on eyeliner along with my mascara. I don't own concealer, but I use my tinted moisturizer on top of my regular face cream. Charlotte thinks it's ridiculous that I used both, but I don't pay forty bucks a bottle for my daily moisturizer to skip it on the most important date of the year.
I put on pink lipstick that I immediately wipe off and replace it with my regular gloss. Charlotte is sitting on my bed, alternating between telling me how good I look, and reminding me that it isn't a big deal. It would be easier to believe her if she didn't have this exciting, bordering on manic gleam in her eyes. This isn't a real, real date, after all. We're not dating. He's leaving as soon as Noah and Lizzy get back from Ghana.
But this is the first quasi date I've been on since Joe left me, and Logan is hot enough to have the snow melt around him as he walks. If we're going out in public, I need to take my game to another level. I give Charlotte back my regular snow books and ask her to get me the tight ones with the wedge heel. They go over my knee and aren't practical for the weather we're having right now, but going on a date with Logan isn't what I'd call realistic either.
Charlotte and I are still in my bedroom, flittering in and out of the closet when the doorbell rings. Shit balls, I'm not ready for this.
Charlotte senses the rising panic about to boil over and quickly steps in front of me.
"Take a deep breath Em. This isn't a big deal. You've been spending all of your free time with Logan in the last few weeks anyway. This isn't any different from that. Hell, it's not even a real date. He's taking you to lunch for heaven's sake. It's just two friends sharing a meal. With clothes on."
My chest is heaving, and as if to deny that this whole day is happening, I start to shake my head in rapid little shakes. She takes both of my hands in hers and squeezes so tight I'm sure her nails will leave small half-moon shapes in my palms.
"Hey, now. Hey. Stop freaking out right now. You are beautiful. You are smart. You are a kickass surgeon. You deserve to go out and have a little fun. Everything else going on is just background noise today. Do like you were trained to do and block it out. All you need to worry about is a nice looking guy is coming to take you out."
Doing as she instructs, I close my eyes and center myself, pushing all my doubts about him and us and myself out of my mind. The only thing that matters right now is that Logan is here, and I'm starving. It's the promise of good conversation and good food that finally settles me, and when I open my eyes again, Charlotte is looking at me with pride.
"Okay, let's do this."
I take one last look at myself in my mirror, then lead Charlotte out of the room.
The kids have already let him in by the time we make it downstairs.
I almost canceled when we found out they were going to be here this weekend. It's Charlotte's kids weekend with their father, and Brandon mostly going to go with them. They may not be siblings by blood, but they're being raised as such anyway. Charlotte's ex-husband may have been a lousy spouse, but he's a fabulous father and allows Brandon to tag along since he knows how much it means to his son. Unfortunately, he got stuck in California because of our snow yesterday, and so the kids are still home with us.
My heart gives a little clench looking into the living room, and I stop at the bottom of the stairs to better take in the view.
Charlotte's daughter Tessa, aged thirteen, is sitting on the end chair curled up, pretending to read a book. In reality, she's watching Logan interact with the boys over the edge of her paperback. You can't really blame her.
Logan's wearing a black pea coat with the collar turned up, open in the front. Underneath, he has a light grey turtleneck and a black pair of jeans. The material of his sweater looks soft enough to rub my face against, and I have to make a conscious decision not to walk over and do so. Combat boots complete the look. I hate how good he looks wearing clothing that would be plain on most mortal men. His hair is wavy and clean, with just enough product in it to make it look like he woke up that way. It makes me want to run my fingers through it, then tug on it. He's obviously skilled with a blow-dryer. I wonder what it would be like to share a blow dryer with your husband?
Husband? Where the fuck did that thought come from?
The boys are on either side of Logan, showing him a transformer and monster truck, respectively, and it's at that very moment that I realize I don't think I've told him about Brandon. Why would I? We were supposed to be a few months of purely animalistic sex. Never in my life did I imagine that he would be meeting my family.
Gathering my courage, I take the last two steps down the stairs with Charlotte hot on my tail.
He looks up when I enter his line sight, and the smile on his face takes my breath away. The butterflies are back in my belly, but this time they're from anticipation instead of fear. I don't know what I did to deserve someone looking at me like that, but I'm thankful for it. For the thousandth time in the last few weeks, I have to
remind myself not to get attached. This isn't a permanent arrangement.
He stands as I take the final step into the living room, and it's as if the rest of the room fades into the distance.
Meeting me halfway, he puts a hand on my hip and bends to kiss me on the cheek. It's incredibly gentlemanly, and I'm thankful he didn't push for more with all the children standing around us. Still, there's a chorus of oooooh's, and eeewww's from the little boys standing around us.
"You look gorgeous, Austen."
"Thank You. You look pretty good yourself." Here's the time; it's now or never — time to pull off the bandaid.
"Logan, let me introduce you to my best friend and sister, Charlotte." I chickened out. Maybe he'll think all the kids are hers.
Charlotte steps forward and takes his hand, and he has a twinkle in his eye when he makes his introductions.
"Sister?" He raises one eyebrow the way they do it in the movies, and I see Char swoon on the spot.
"In spirit, if not blood. We've been friends since our first overnight intern year."
"I get it. I have a spirit sister too. Only we've been friends since our first night in the cradle. It's nice to meet you finally. Austen has nothing but good things to say about you."
Charlotte takes the time to give him a thorough examination as they're talking, and I step back to gather my things while they discuss her current research.
"Mom, are you guys going to be home for dinner?"
I see to Brandon at my side, and quickly glance up at Logan to gage his response. He doesn't falter in his conversation but does glance at us before turning his full attention back to Charlotte.
"Probably not bud. Aunt Char is taking you guys ice skating, so you won't even miss me. Don't be a pain in the butt."
I run my fingers through his hair, giving him a small noogie, which I know he hates. He jerks away immediately and tries to fix his hair.