by Christa Wick
He climbed onto the center of the mattress, staring at me with big, worried eyes as I drew the blanket up toward his chin.
“Will you stay with me, Lily?”
“I won’t leave until we’ve chased all the bad thoughts away,” I promised with a kiss to his forehead.
3
Half an hour passed before I slid from Stevie’s room and shut the door behind me. Exhaustion had settled into my bones as I had stroked his hair and made a song out of an old picture book he hadn’t let me read to him since his mother disappeared.
I would never understand what Mrs. Logan had done. But she had always been a weird one. The mirror in the laundry room was one of two in the house beyond the bathroom mirrors. About a dozen more had been removed after she left. Three from the entry hall, one in the kitchen, two in the living room, one in the hall that led to the bedrooms, another in the damn linen closet, two in Stevie’s room…
Even weirder, she had always looked in the mirrors when giving me instructions. At first, I thought she was staring at, and unfavorably judging, my doublewide butt, which made me even more self-conscious around her. Later I realized she only looked at herself in the mirror. She did it all the time, even when Logan or Stevie talked to her, her smiles reserved only for her reflection.
When it was clear that his wife hadn’t taken an extended spa trip, the Major took down one mirror a week until most were gone. After that, Stevie stopped asking when his mom was coming home.
Sighing, I dropped my phone on a side table, sat on the couch and pulled a throw blanket over my lap. I was cold, all the heat of watching Major Jones towel off on the old home video gone and unlikely to be recaptured, not even once I returned to my parent’s house and locked my bedroom door.
Reaching out, I woke the screen on my phone. It flashed the time and nothing more. Emy hadn't responded to my last message, which was odd. Usually we egged one another on—especially when we were home alone.
We did crazy things. Videos were taken and shared. Toys may or may not have appeared on screen then disappeared into our bodies.
Our parents would be mortified, I'm sure, but it was better than the alternatives. We both had lost our virginity to a (different) jerk who was only looking for a fast fuck and thought we should be grateful that anyone wanted to have sex with us. There were lots of guys around like that—but after our first time proved so disappointing, we opted for a different kind of sexual intimacy while we nursed our secret crushes.
Not wanting to think about my partner-less “love life,” I pulled the throw blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes. Fresh images of Logan swam through my head. I sucked my lips in, told myself I wasn’t going to get all worked up again.
Told myself once more as I licked my lips.
And again as fresh cream started to seep from between my labia.
And again as my thighs tensed over and over, the constant flexing causing my clit to slide up and down as my knees locked together and a moan escaped my lips.
Just finding a truly satisfying rhythm, I heard keys in the front door an hour too soon. Taking a hard swallow, I jumped up and smoothed my skirt half a second before the Major rounded the corner and entered the living room.
"Major Logan, you're back early." I tried to smile and bring my breathing under control, but I'm sure I looked guilty as hell. I could feel my cheeks blazing with shame.
His gaze scanned the area around the couch, his expression stern. "Where is it, Lillian?"
"Where's what?" My question slowed at the end as I realized he had just called me by my full first name. Only my mom still did that and only when she was seriously pissed.
I looked at his face again.
His lips were pressed tightly together and his jaw seemed to be sliding from side to side even as he growled an answer. "Your phone. Where is it?"
I had only seen the Major angry a few times—the few weeks right before and after Mrs. Logan deserted him and Stevie. Looking at Logan just a few feet away, his muscles bunching and steam practically rising off his hard body, I knew I was in trouble.
I just didn't know why.
Before I could even think to say anything else, he spotted my phone and scooped it up from the side table. "I told you no visitors. You know that's an absolute rule. You want to fool around with a boy, do it someplace else."
He pressed the power button as I lunged for the device. Gently straight-arming me, he held me at a distance as he opened my messages.
"Those are private!"
"I just want to know who has an open invitation to my home while you're supposed to be watching Stevie."
I felt like I'd taken a baseball bat to the face when it dawned on me what must have happened. He was talking about the message on the image I thought I had sent to Emy. She didn't reply because she never received it. The Major had!
I sucked a deep breath in, panic cementing in my chest to hold the air inside me. I wasn't even going to attempt an explanation that no boy had an invitation to his house. With my phone in his hands, he'd realize the truth all too soon. Stepping into my sandals, I scanned the room for my bag. It was on the small side table coming off the hall. I made a beeline for it, my cheeks surely blazing bright red.
Reaching for the bag, I noticed my keys weren't hooked to the outside like usual. I looked at the tabletop, scanned the row of small hooks above the surface.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
My heart knocked hard inside my chest. My lungs kicked out the breath I'd been holding, dragged another one in then seized once more. I spun around, my gaze casting wildly about in search of my keys. I didn't see them, but I noticed the Major had stopped looking at my phone and was staring intently at me.
That darkly-fringed fuck-me gaze he had was on at full power, his head cocked like some powerful beast that has just scented its prey. I backed up until my butt bumped against the wall.
A million thoughts ran through my head. The enormously pissed look was gone, but I couldn't read what had replaced it.
Amusement?
Pity for the fat babysitter who has a crush on a demigod?
He advanced on me with slow, deliberate steps. Held like bait, my keys were in his hand. In the other hand, he still had my phone. The display faced me. He had flipped through the messages, finding another explicit shot of my pussy. It was the one I had taken in my bedroom, my legs spread wide, my blue battery-operated boyfriend on the quilt next to me. I had snapped the picture post-orgasm just as a mix of cream and lube left me.
"Didn't your parents warn you about taking pictures like this?" His voice had lost its usual good-natured efficiency. The words slid roughly from his mouth. He blinked and then his gaze raked my body.
My overstuffed body that he couldn't possibly want.
He drew his bottom lip in, wetting it. "What if Emy decided to post them online?"
I folded my arms across my chest, trying to hide how hard my nipples had become. "She wouldn't and it doesn't show my face, anyway."
I couldn't believe I was arguing with him about this. I needed my keys and my phone so I could go the hell home and die of embarrassment in the privacy of my bedroom—right after a marathon session with my dildo because the idea of him seeing the pictures and knowing that I wanted his cock in me made my pussy extra wet.
"It shows your mole, Lily, the one that's visible when you wear that pink bikini."
My pink bikini—the one my older sister said a girl my size should be embarrassed to even look at and that Logan had seen once and only for about forty seconds as I fumbled for my swim robe.
"Major..."
"Yes, Lily?"
He stood less than a foot from me, close enough I could smell the subtle spices of his aftershave. My pussy reached a new level of saturation, everything between my thighs hot and soaked and flexing. My knees beginning to weaken, I tried to take a breath in.
Quickly pocketing my keys and phone, the Major grabbed me by the shoulders. "You need to sit down, Lilliput. You look like yo
u're going to pass out."
I wasn't sure how close I was to passing out, but it sure as hell felt like I was a hair's width from coming. My clit throbbed, each pulse inflating the flesh just a little more until I thought I would burst.
I let him lead me to the couch. My ass touched the leather cushions, the pressure of my weight forcing my lower lips together. I groaned, my hips thrusting up for a second before I brought myself under something resembling control.
He pushed between my shoulder blades as he grabbed my left knee and pulled it towards him. "Head between your legs."
"I think I'm going to puke."
"No, you're not." The words emerged softly but were clearly a command. He rubbed his palm up and down my back, like a mother trying to soothe an infant. "Take slow, deep breaths."
His voice cracked at the end and his hand stopped rubbing to rest flat against the lower back of my neck. The warmth of his touch seeped into my skin, relaxing the muscles in my shoulders. I managed to slow my breathing.
He shifted a little as his free hand dipped into his ACU pocket and retrieved my phone. I thought for a second he would finally give the device back. I lifted my head just enough from between my legs to look at him.
"Not there yet, baby. Concentrate on breathing." He lightly pressed my head down. His hand returned to the same spot at the base of my neck, his thumb lightly stroking the curve between my throat and shoulder.
The clicks coming from the phone told me he was navigating its menu. Every few clicks, the thumb stroking my flesh stopped or slowed. Trying hard not to shake, I mentally inventoried the phone's contents. There was the Fifty Shades of Major file. Dozens of texts to Emy graphically detailed all the things I wanted to do to Logan and have done to me. Plus there were half a dozen pictures, just as graphic, that I hadn't deleted.
When audio started playing, I remembered there was more than just text and photos. There was a video at least thirty seconds long showing the vibrator in me, my hips rocking, clit pinched between my fingertips as I moaned Logan's name.
I turned my head just enough that I could watch his face. He chewed at his lower lip, the right nostril flaring as his brow arched high. He flinched the slightest bit when, given the sounds coming from the speaker, I came. He cleared his throat, the noise small and muted, and then he turned the phone off and shoved it in his pocket.
He had stopped stroking me while the video played. Now the palm of his hand massaged its way up my neck. His fingers spread out then threaded through my hair in a tight grip. Gently yet forcefully, he pulled me up until my back was against the cushion, his other hand curled against my lower stomach to keep me trapped.
Gaze locked on my face, Logan smoothed his fingers down to the hem of my skirt. He lifted its edge and rubbed the flat of his nails softly along my inner thigh, front to back. The hand cradling my head slid closer to my face. His fingers caressed a slow, tight circle behind my ear lobe.
Beneath the skirt, his fingers whispered along my skin until they reached the lower band of my panties. He leaned in, his breath soft against my skin as his lips grazed the rim of my mouth. He slipped a finger under the band while his tongue darted out to part my lips with a curling lick that left me arching towards him when he pulled away. His mouth descended again, his tongue and fingers bolder. The calloused pad of his fingertip found my clit, stroked up it as his tongue penetrated my mouth.
I shivered, moaned, my body begging for another stroke.
He took his finger away, found the bottom of my clit once again and ran another line up it just as he licked inside my mouth. Whimpering, I flexed my hips. The whole time he kept tracing that circle below my ear, the soft, constant swirl making my upper body melt against the cushion as my hips started to rock.
My slow, deep breaths were obliterated by the ghost of his fingers moving up and up and up my clit. He stopped kissing me, teasing me instead with the faintest brush of his lips around my mouth, along my jaw.
Then he stared at me, his gaze holding mine, his thumb massaging the pressure point near my jaw while his fingers softly swept another line up the spine of my pussy, followed by another, one more and...
I gripped the edge of the seat cushion with one hand, curled the other around the top of his thigh. I wanted him to kiss me again, to ease with his lips and tongue the hard tension building from his maddeningly soft strokes. But he was intent on watching me come, seeing it in my eyes, in the way I blinked and chewed at my lip as the pressure started to overwhelm me. My gut tightened and I tilted my hips, another moan shaking loose from my throat as my pussy contracted.
"Major..." My hands jumped to the collar of his ACU jacket, clutched the edges as I strained closer to him. My breath left me in small pants as another wave of climax crested inside me.
He kissed me, his mouth gentling as I slowly came down from my peak. His fingers slid south to where I was all wet and throbbing. He inserted a tip into me, then another to firmly press against my swollen flesh. Every few heartbeats, my pussy gave another hard squeeze, my body floating on an ocean of bliss.
Logan ran his lips lightly along my cheek and down along my ear. When he finally spoke again, his voice was a raw purr, its echoes vibrating across my skin.
"Baby, all those things you texted about..." He paused and his teeth grazed my jaw. "I'm going to do every last one of them tonight."
4
One arm wrapped around my shoulders and a hand between my breasts, Logan guided me onto my feet and into the master bedroom. He locked the door then placed me at the foot of the bed, my body facing the dresser with its giant mirror. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see even the small portion of my reflection not blocked by Logan's muscled physique.
"I've been fantasizing about undressing you all summer." Leaning in to kiss me, he thumbed my top button open. "You have no idea how crazy you've been driving me, do you?"
Thoroughly confused, I shook my head. I had been dressing up all summer for my new office job in outfits that Emy's mother selected for me from her vintage clothing boutique. She refused to let me wear the baggy shirts and pants I usually swathed my exceedingly generous curves in. I didn't want to tell her no because she helped me get the job.
My knowledge about clothing is next to zero, so I had to take her word for it when she told me the blouse is French Edwardian. I just know it is a white brushed cotton, very romantic looking with its ruffles and eyelet trim and the large mother of pearl buttons that Logan's agile fingers were busy unhooking.
Three buttons undone, he paused to ease his hands inside the blouse and cup the underside of my breasts. He ran his thumb over the front snap, groaned once but left it fastened. His hands returning to work on the buttons, he kissed my neck and then the underside of my chin.
"I'm going to strip you then eat that sweet pussy until you come again, Lily."
I swallowed, swaying slightly as he pushed the blouse off my shoulders and smoothed the fabric down my arms. Bringing his hands back to the front, he unsnapped the closure but didn't remove the bra. With the fabric between his hand and my flesh, he massaged my breasts as he kissed his way down my throat. Nosing one cup to the side, his mouth fastened on my nipple.
I looked in the mirror, watched the slow bob of his head as he suckled at my breast. My parents named me Lillian because I was a pale baby. I never grew darker, never freckled, the only color on my skin the pale blue and indigo of the veins beneath. Looking at my body, the plump arms and padded shoulders, part of me wanted to push Logan away. It wasn't the part that was actually in control of my muscles. That part had abandoned me completely. My arms hung at my sides, my hands capable of only occasionally clutching at him when my body swayed into contact with his.
My pussy protested all the attention his mouth gave the nipple and I whimpered soft and low. He pulled the nipple taut between his lips and tugged at it. Our flesh parted with a wet pop. He nosed the other cup to the side. His tongue circled that nipple as his hands ran up my back. Grabbing the bra straps from
behind, he stripped the fabric away.
Was this really happening?
My gaze dropped from my body to his. He still had his ACUs on, but I could see the play of muscles beneath the fabric. I knew what lurked beneath, knew how completely mismatched my body was to his. More than that, Mrs. Jones wore a size four, if not smaller. The woman he had picked as his wife—for life—was my complete physical opposite.
Logan's attention to my breast stopped and he looked up. "Baby, wherever your head is going, pull it back."
He quirked a brow, his gaze intensifying as he gave my nipple a hard tweak. "Now, Lily."
I closed my eyes and nodded. It had been a mistake looking in the mirror—not only because it reminded me of every last physical shortcoming I had, but also because it would remind Logan of her fascination with her reflection and that perfect size four she maintained.
"You're still not with me, are you baby?"
I glanced at Logan, closed my eyes again and shook my head. "I'm here—with you. Please don't stop."
Kissing the swell of my stomach, Logan's hands dropped to my hips. His thumbs ran along the waistband until he found the zipper in back. Unzipping me, he sank to his knees. Lips pressed against my lower belly, he removed the skirt with an aching slowness. When it was halfway down my thighs, he bunched one side in his fist and held it tight while the fingers of his other hand traced the bottom line of my panties.
Logan kissed the fabric, his mouth landing just above the top split of my labia. His fingers slid under the bottom edge of lace where he dragged his knuckle roughly up my clit before hooking the waistband. Tugging the panties down several inches, he worked his tongue between my lower lips, the tip dancing along the length of my clit.
His grip firm on the underwear, he yanked me tighter against his face, his tongue licking up over and over. When my hips canted in his direction and I whimpered, he released the clothing to gently push me onto the mattress.
The skirt disappeared in an instant and then he spread my legs far apart. With my underwear as a barrier, he started to tease me mercilessly. His lips pressed against the lace so that it moved over my sensitive flesh. A hand on each of my thighs, he thumbed my labia open, his mouth forcing the rough lace up and down along my clit in a deliciously raw pattern.