Hello Stranger

by West, Jade

  “You’re pretty hot yourself, Dr Hall.”

  “It’s Logan,” he said. “My name is Logan.”

  Logan.

  I knew it was Logan. I’d heard it was Logan. But it was a whole other thing hearing it from him. A personal introduction.

  I took a breath. “You’re pretty hot yourself, Logan.”

  He smiled at that. A smirk.

  I loved his smirk.

  He ran his fingers right the way down my body, from my collarbone, down over my nipple, and down lower, tracing the scar on my belly.

  “Appendicitis,” he commented, and I nodded.

  “I was twelve.”

  I wasn’t expecting it when he lowered his head and peppered kisses right down the track of my scar. I wasn’t expecting how real it felt as he touched me for me.

  He slipped my knickers down my legs and off, and I wished I’d shaved properly, but I really didn’t think I’d actually be on his bed at one a.m. after Gina’s thing.

  Again, it didn’t matter.

  He eased my thighs open and looked at me. Properly looked at me.

  He looked at me, and he wanted me.

  His fingers spread me wide, but it was more intimate this time than downstairs. The lamplight was bright, and his eyes were fixed, and his thumb was every bit as skilled as it worked my clit just right.

  It was more tender this time, and I was already squirming at his touch, my clit going crazy for more.

  I’d never known it go crazy for more. Not even with me. I’d usually rub myself off until I was a wriggling mess, and then I’d be done.

  I moaned when he pushed two fingers inside me. I raised my hips when he curled them.

  Fuck.

  It felt intense.

  Intense and… great…

  Fuck. It felt great.

  Rhythm from both sides, and those curled fingers were pressing hard, and I didn’t know myself as my body took over. The lamplight could have been a beacon of searchlight and I wouldn’t have cared, I was too crazy for more.

  My breaths were short, my moans were so real, and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop working back at him.

  I could hear the squelches. I could hear how wet I was, but I didn’t stop moving, didn’t let the self-consciousness take over. Until I needed a pee.

  The worst possible time ever to need a pee.

  I told it to go away as he worked me with his fingers curling in and out, his thumb skimming my clit. But it wouldn’t go away. I was burning inside…

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “But I really need to go to the…”

  He shook his head. “Just relax,” he said.

  “But I need the…”

  Then I felt it. A rush of shudders from within. Shudders that drove me wild.

  Fuck.

  I could barely breathe and the squelching grew louder and my gasps turned to a long drawn-out moan as he pulled his fingers free and I exploded on the bed, hands gripping the sheets as the white bloomed behind my eyes.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  My ears were ringing when I came down. My smile must have outshone the sun. I could feel it on my face. But it didn’t stay there long. He didn’t give me time to speak, he was up and at me, his hot mouth on mine.

  His hands took mine and raised them over my head. My wrists were pinned, and his hips were hard as they pressed against mine.

  I wanted him so much I couldn’t take it.

  “Please,” I said, and it sounded desperate.

  But again, he was slow. Slow and firm.

  I didn’t know this side of him. Not at all.

  I didn’t know he would be this in control, not in the way he was. So in charge without saying a word.

  He pinned both of my wrists in one hand, and unbuttoned his shirt. I wanted to see him, but he was kissing me too hard as he lowered his pants and pressed his bare flesh to mine. He was big. I could feel it. Fuck, I could feel it.

  “Please…” I said again, but his hips kept grinding, his dick rubbing against my clit. “Please…”

  Gasping. I was gasping.

  “I’m on the pill,” I said, like a rambling idiot. “Please…”

  “Relax,” he said again, and this time the growl was primal. Enough to give me shivers.

  And then he gave it to me. One deep thrust. Hard.

  Fuck.

  Deep slams. Flesh against flesh.

  Fuck.

  I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist, and his face was in mine, breaths heavy.

  I took it all. I craved it all. I wanted it all.

  Circles and thrusts. Circles and thrusts. Hips so strong, angled like I’d never known. Right against the spot that had just driven me insane.

  Fuck.

  Fuck. And a whole lot more fucks.

  “Please…” I cried out, and I didn’t even know what I was asking for.

  The rhythm was magic, my whole body was screaming.

  Slams, and circles. Over and over. Wrists pinned firm.

  He had me. Every part of me, claimed by every part of him.

  Fuck.

  He came as I did, grunting as I moaned, hips slamming hard, and it was everything.

  He was everything.

  I didn’t know myself as he calmed his movements and lay still.

  I knew then that I could never be without this, not ever again. Not without losing my mind.

  I guessed my mind was already screwed though. I’d been crazy over this man since he was nothing more than a stranger on the train, handing me my bookmark back.

  He moved away from me but took my hand and held it tight to his chest, and I caught my breath along with him, exposed under the lamplight but not caring anymore.

  I really didn’t care anymore.

  It was the most natural thing in the world when I rolled to face him. I wanted to see him. I wanted to see all of him the way he’d seen all of me. I opened his shirt, desperate to soak him in the way he’d soaked in me. To know his body. To know him.

  I wasn’t expecting the scar twisting so dark around his waist.

  Mine was nothing compared to his. Nothing at all.

  I felt like an idiot right there and then. My scar was a puny little nothing.

  “I had kidney cancer,” he said. “A decade ago. I had a kidney removed.”

  There were no words I wanted to say. My words were all in a movement, echoing his with everything I had.

  I kissed his scar. Tiny kisses right the way up and around.

  It only made him more gorgeous to me.

  Everything that made him him, made him more gorgeous to me.

  His cock was still hard. Veined and thick, still wet from being inside me.

  I kissed my way down, and he was looking at me as I took him in my hand.

  I didn’t let the nerves creep back in before I sucked him into my mouth. I didn’t care how I looked or how I was doing. My hair was a mess and my body was sweaty and my makeup must have been smeared to hell, but nothing mattered. Only the way I made him feel.

  His hands reached down and took hold of my hair, and he guided me, over and over.

  I loved the way he owned my mouth. Nerves had nothing to say.

  My mouth was wet and noisy. I cupped his balls and swirled my tongue around the end of him, loving the way he moaned. Loving it so much as I sucked him back in. Loving him so much as he tensed.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said as his cock touched the back of my throat.

  I pulled free, sucking him hard along the way, and my tongue lapped as he started to spill.

  His thrusts made me so proud. His groans as his cock pulsed made my heart explode.

  And it was amazing. The salty taste of his cum in my mouth made me smile. It actually made me smile around his dick.

  I’d never get enough of it. Not ever. No way. I could spend my whole life with my mouth around his dick and I’d never get enough of it.

  I climbed up his body when he was done and he pulled
me into his arms, and again, I felt so safe. So safe and so wanted there, without any words.

  And that’s where I slept. Prosecco hazed and glowing bright, before the lights were even out, I fell asleep, as comfortable as I could ever feel.

  I belonged there.

  23

  Chloe

  I woke up and stretched before suddenly remembering where I was. My heart started racing. I rolled over but he wasn’t there.

  No Dr Hall – sorry, Logan – to be seen.

  Logan.

  I’d fucked Dr Hall and now he was Logan.

  It was when I rolled over again that I realised I was in a prosecco thump. My head was woolly, and I’m sure my makeup was a state, and I wondered if I’d been a clumsy idiot in my sleep. Hopefully not.

  The light was shining through the bedroom curtains and I looked around the room. It was immaculate in a way I hadn’t noticed the night before. Hardly on my list of priorities, I guess, to look around the bedroom of the man I was about to have sex with.

  The top of his chest of drawers had bottles and boxes arranged neatly in rows. His wardrobe was huge, with his suit jacket from the day before hanging neatly on the outside. He had a laundry basket that was closed shut with no trailing pants or socks dumped all over it. Not like mine usually was.

  I stretched out some more, loving how the bed smelt of him. Musky but clean.

  That’s when I noticed the fresh glass of water on the bedside table next to me. I gulped some down and got to my feet. My clothes were lying neatly over a chair in the corner, along with his shirt from the night before.

  I didn’t fancy wrestling myself back into that tight little number like a dirty stop out, so I opted for his shirt instead. I pulled it on and buttoned up a few buttons, then crept my way out of there.

  I hoped he wasn’t all set to pile me out of the front door and never mention our hook-up again. Because he could do. He could draw a line under it and say thanks, but no thanks. It wouldn’t be anything more than a one-night stand then. No biggie, I suppose.

  Except it would be. It would be plenty big enough for me.

  The door to his mum’s room was still open a bit. I was trying to creep by without disturbing anyone, but I didn’t manage it. I was barely across the doorway when a voice sounded out from inside, over the top of the rumble of the oxygen machine.

  “Logan? Can you come in a minute, please? I’m out of juice.”

  Her voice was weak, but full of character, even in that one sentence. I paused, just out of view, wondering what the hell I should do. Should I rush down and grab him and tell him his mum was shouting out? Should I stick my head around the door and say sorry, I’ll get him?

  She answered the question for me.

  “Logan? Is that you out there?”

  I cleared my throat and took a breath before I poked my head around the door. Then I answered her question.

  “Hey, sorry, no. He’s, um, downstairs I think.”

  The woman sitting up in bed looked amazing. She had a wild-coloured scarf on her head, and her bedcovers had flamingos on them, and her room was full of trinkets and pictures on the wall – a massive contrast to the neatness of Logan’s room along the hall. But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the surroundings she was sitting in, or the scarf, or the flamingos. It was her.

  Her eyes were so alive against the tiny body she was sitting up in. The tubes going into her nose didn’t take away from the smile that lit her up as she saw me standing there, and she was beckoning me over, holding out such frail hands with such enthusiasm.

  They grabbed hold of mine as soon as I was close enough, and squeezed tight, and she was looking me up and down with a grin that lit up my heart.

  “That’s Logan’s shirt,” she commented, and I felt my cheeks flame up as usual. “That means you’re a very special person. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Chloe,” I said, and I was smiling right back at her.

  She relaxed against her pillows. “Chloe.” She paused, her hands still squeezing mine. “It’s nice to meet you, Chloe. Please tell me I’ll be meeting you again.”

  My hands squeezed hers right back, and I knew something. Just from her smile, I knew something. I liked her. I liked her a lot.

  “I hope so,” I said. “I really hope I’ll be meeting you again.”

  “My name’s Jackie,” she told me. “I’m Logan’s mum.” She let go of my hands to gesture to a carton of juice in a mini fridge on the other side of the room. “Be a darling and pour me a juice, please, would you? I’m dry as a witch’s snatch.” She laughed then, a crazy little cackle.

  I couldn’t help grinning at her as I grabbed her glass from her bedside table. I could feel her watching me while I crossed the room and poured her drink, and even though I felt as examined as I’d ever felt, I didn’t feel judged by her. Not in the slightest.

  I gave her the drink and she thanked me and took a decent glug before she spoke again.

  “Wasn’t expecting to find a pretty young thing in here this morning. Where did you meet with my boy?”

  I didn’t have the chance to reply before footsteps sounded on the landing. My nerves shot up, right the way through me, and I’m sure my eyes were like dinner plates as I turned around.

  There he was, and it was weird to see him like that, in a pair of casual trousers with a t-shirt on the top. To be honest, I’d never have imagined him like that, not in a million years.

  He had a plate in his hand, and on it was a slice of what looked like peanut butter on toast with no crusts on the edges.

  “Love you, darling,” she said as he handed it over. Then she grabbed my arm with her other hand. “He takes real good care of me, you know. I’m one lucky lady.”

  His eyes were on mine, and they were burning dark again. “There’s breakfast downstairs, if you’re hungry.”

  Yeah, I was hungry. My stomach was rumbling at the peanut butter. I nodded with a thanks and it was a whole new weird to be in that space with him.

  “Lovely to meet you, Chloe,” his mum said as I took a few steps away.

  “Lovely to meet you too, Jackie,” I said back, and gave her a stupid little wave that I’m sure made me look like a dumbass as I left her room.

  I could feel Logan following me until his mum’s voice shot out at him. “Don’t you go anywhere yet!”

  She was laughing that cackle of a laugh. I turned back to face him and he was smiling at her and then at me.

  I loved to see him smile like that.

  His eyes were so intense as they fixed on mine. “Head on down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  I nodded, and did that stupid wave again, and he smiled harder.

  “I’ll be downstairs,” I said, stating the obvious.

  I went down the stairs and found my shoes positioned neatly on the shoe rack, and my coat hanging neatly up above.

  Tidy. He was so damn tidy.

  I was smiling at that too. As if I’d ever found neatness a horny quality in a guy in my life.

  Every damn thing about Dr Logan Hall was horny as hell.

  I poked my head into the living room and smiled again at the whole wall of bookshelves on the far side. I only hoped I got the chance to have a proper look at them later.

  Please, universe, dish me out another winner and let me stay awhile.

  The kitchen smelt lovely. There were sausages and bacon ready to be cooked, and a pan out with eggs at the side, and a dining table with cutlery already positioned, for two of us, and an empty mug out by the kettle. I was still wandering around like a nosey bitch when I heard him heading down the stairs. I leant back against the counter to look as chilled as possible, but I’m sure it made no difference. I was a bag of nerves as he joined me.

  He headed straight over to the kettle and set it back on to boil. “Black, three sugars, yes?”

  I nodded. “Please.”

  “Sausage, egg and bacon?”

  I nodded again, and I couldn’t hold back the smile. “Yes,
please. That sounds amazing.” I paused. “I love bacon.”

  I love bacon??

  Fucking hell. Brilliant conversation starter.

  But it didn’t seem to matter.

  “Me too. Can’t beat a decent breakfast on a Saturday morning.”

  I watched him there, in his casual trousers and bare feet, pottering about the kitchen and setting the pan on to heat. He was still as him as ever, even though he didn’t look like the him at the hospital. His face was still as concentrated, and his shoulders were still as high, and his posture was still as perfect. I wondered if he really knew how to relax, or if he lived in this permanent state of efficiency.

  I looked up at the clock on the wall and it wasn’t even 8 a.m. No wonder I felt rough. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen 8 a.m. on a weekend.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say a word, just watched him making breakfast through loved-up eyes. Loved-up and fluttery, and nervous, and hoping I didn’t make a total tit of myself in the aftermath of the hottest night of my entire life.

  He didn’t say anything either, but he wasn’t jittery about it like I was. He was every bit as calm as usual, not fazed in the slightest as he got on with prepping food.

  “Scrambled or fried?” he asked as he picked up the egg box.

  “Fried, thanks,” I said, and he cracked them into the pan.

  I decided to force some words from my mouth.

  “Your mum is so nice,” I said, and he smirked.

  “My mum is a character. She’s quite something.” He paused, and that smirk was still on his face. “I’m sure you’d get on well with her. She’s every bit the eternal optimist, like you are.”

  I’d been told that a lot in my life. That I was the eternal optimist. It didn’t surprise me that his mum was too. You could see it beaming from her smile, hear it in that cackling laugh.

  “I’m sure I’d get on well with her too, ” I said, and if I’d have still been on the prosecco confidence, I’d have followed it up with a hopefully we’ll find out, but I didn’t dare.

  He dished up breakfast and I sat down at the table opposite him.

  Yep, he was stunning. Even more stunning than the night before, if that was ever possible. He took a swig of coffee and got stuck into his bacon, and I buttered a piece of toast with shaky fingers.