by Chase, Jenna
“You bet your ass I saw it!” Volume? Tone? Who cares about either? With a few short words, Logan has me riled up again. Doesn’t take much! “What the hell were you thinking? How could you fucking do this to me? What have I done to you?”
I don’t want to showcase the panic and anger inside of me, but when I get really emotional, it’s almost impossible. To think, my doctor put me on birth control back in high school to help me with this. I think it’s time to switch brands.
Logan feigns innocence with that boyish grin. “Just being honest,” he says, way too cheerily. “If anything, I’d think you’d be flattered. Didn’t I pay you a compliment?”
“A compliment!” Someone’s shriek echoes in Logan’s apartment. It’s mine, isn’t it? Suddenly I’m the big fat Italian stereotype I’ve been shrugging off for the past twenty years. To be fair, I haven’t heard this side of my voice since… Daddy…
Nope! Not thinking about it here!
“You said I was a kinky slut! You said I had threesomes and orgies and whatever the fuck else the editor had to censor!” Those words sink deeply into me. My reputation. My honor. All ruined because of Logan Dean getting mad that I didn’t positively react to his sick jokes the other day. MEN. No, no, this isn’t a man. This is a boy. I don’t care if he’s a year older than me. He’s about as mature as a twelve-year-old discovering boobies in a Playboy magazine. “Do you know what this is going to do to me?”
“Isn’t it true, though?” He looks me straight in the eyes and widens his smile. That’s it. I’m going to knock the teeth out of his mouth. See how much people want to take pictures of him now!
“No, it’s not fucking true, you God awful asshole!” Tears burn in my eyes. My arms shoot into the air, purse flailing at my side. “I’m a perfectly presentable member of society! I’m a part of the Young Women’s Club! My father holds a key to the city! I’m respectable!” Somehow, I keep my tears in my body. “Unlike you, Logan.” Fed up with my obnoxious purse, I slam it onto his floor and stand up with a huff. I can’t see anything because of how blurry my anger has made my vision. I think it might be colored red now, too.
However, I can make out that Logan is not looking me in the face anymore. His arms remain crossed in front of his chiseled chest, but one of those hands is going up to his mouth and stifling another wicked chuckle.
“I wouldn’t say you’re respectable at all right now.” There it is. The escaped guffaw, and a finger pointing right at my dress. “Can you say wardrobe malfunction? Or is it Miss Jackson if you’re nasty?”
I’m horrified before I even look down. Why. Did I. Wear this. Top? Because it’s betrayed me, one halter strap unsnapping and falling down my chest. Behold, Logan, ‘tis my breast! Contained in a hot pink bra, but it doesn’t exactly cover much.
Of course. Of course my clothes are falling off my body around this prick. It’s like I subconsciously wanted to be half naked like he is. With that stupid chest and those stupid six-pack abs and that stupid aftershave wafting in my direction. Oh my God. Is that my hard nipple poking through pink fabric? I’m gonna hurl – then die!
Not before I take Logan Dean down with me!
I throw myself at him. No, not like that. My nails are extended, ready to draw blood, or to at least make it physically known that I am not a woman to be trifled with. I know I shouldn’t try this haphazard violence, but what else do I do? Cry in front of him? I’ll never! I’d rather be indicted for manslaughter than cry in front of Logan Dean!
He takes a huge step back. It’s not enough to make me miss him. All it does is make me trip in my black pumps while a snarl takes over my demeanor. Anger mounts. Rage boils my blood. Those tears are finally coming out and clouding my vision. I draw upon the last of my energy and lunge at him once more, crying out in the most embittered frustration I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing.
Why do men do this? Why has Logan singled me out for his bullying? Why is Daddy trying to control my life and future?
Why am I thinking of Daddy right now?
“Principessa,” I hear his voice echoing in my memory. “It’s time we talked about your future. Namely, who you are going to marry…”
I make contact with Logan. He tries to push me away, but I end up landing against his chest, hot tears exploding on his skin. I don’t expect him to wrap those big, strong arms around me, but he does. And I…
I feel safe. Protected. Independent.
Wait, what?
“Okay, wow.” Logan doesn’t move, either to shove me away or bring me tighter into his embrace. “This took a turn. First your tit busts out, then you’re crying…”
These tears transform into one last surge of anger. We’ve stumbled through a doorway, and with one last push, I’ve broken through his hold and fallen forward.
Right onto his freakishly big bed. Unmade, because God forbid someone make his bed around here.
The soft sheets greet me like an old lover. I instantly roll over and wonder what thread count they are, because it’s better than realizing I’ve popped through Logan’s bedroom door and thrown myself onto his bed.
“All right, this isn’t what I had in mind.” I don’t know what that means, but Logan grabs my hands and pulls me back onto my feet. No, I don’t want to touch him again. I’d rather twist my arms and make my escape now. Nope. Outta here!
Except he’s still grasping me, attempting to force me to turn around so he can say something to my face.
“Get off of me!” I inadvertently hit his bicep. Because we’re already teetering against his bed, he loses balance and smacks against the edge of the bed – taking me down with him.
“Uh…”
My vision clears. Here I am, on Logan Dean’s bed… with the man himself beneath my straddled thighs. I’ve got his muscular chest pinned down with nothing more than my black miniskirt and the legs beneath.
“I hate you,” I whisper, looking straight down in his shocked countenance. “You have no right to say those slanderous things about me. You don’t understand what it could do to me. You think it’s funny?” I slap my hands on either side of his head, ass lifting off his chest but my sharp teeth coming closer to his nose. My hair slips off my shoulder and grazes his skin. “You think it’s cute destroying a woman’s reputation and damaging her relationships with lies? Because it’s not. You had no reason to do that other than to sate your evil ego. I…”
His eyes have glazed over. Not out of disrespect, but in what I think might be attraction.
No. No way.
Whatever words I was going to say next disappear. It’s like Logan’s expression is passing onto me. By the way, did I know that I was straddling his hips like no big deal? Speaking of big deal, what the hell is that poking into my…
Into my…
Oh. My. God.
He’s got a hard-on!
Either Logan Dean is secretly into dominatrixes, or he’s been this attracted to me for a while now. I don’t know what to think. Other than that’s a big hard-on brushing against my ass and trying to make its way beneath my skirt. All I’m wearing underneath is a pair of black undies. It wouldn’t take much at all for him to spear his cock right into my waiting…
What the fuck am I thinking!
I nearly topple over the bed when I realize I’m fantasizing about fucking him. Once I catch my balance again, I look down, meeting a burning, aroused gaze. “I want you,” Logan’s blazing browns say. “I want to fuck you if nothing else.”
No words necessary. This guy wants me. That’s as clear to me as the heat rushing to my pussy and saying sure, why not?
Why not? Why not? How about because this guy’s a total asshole and I have a very strict don’t fuck douchebags policy? How about because two minutes ago I was chewing him out, and the one thing I shouldn’t do is reward his stupidity with, uh, my pussy?
I bet he would love that. I bet he would love to slam me down on this bed and pound me until I incessantly come.
Wow. Where did that c
ome from?
Only a few seconds have passed, but in those few seconds, my brain has done a terrible 180. We’ve gone from wanting to kill this jerk to wanting to fuck him!
As if he’s on the same wavelength as me, Logan lifts himself onto his elbows and meets my kiss halfway. His lips are more locked on mine than mine are on his.
He’s a maniac. A kissing killer. Somehow, in the span of ten seconds, he’s managed to transform me from a rampaging psycho to a famished woman who wants nothing but him.
I’ve never felt a kiss like this before. Let alone when I’m straddling a guy’s lap, his cock stirring directly beneath me, threatening to pop out and take me right here. I almost want it to. Wouldn’t it be great if we could get this over with? Before my senses return to me and I realize what a horrible mistake this is?
Come on, Logan. Take me over. Consume me. Fuck me like a real man.
His tongue darts into my mouth, slamming against mine and attempting to penetrate my throat. His chest pushes harder against mine, the dark hairs on his skin grazing the top of my exposed breast. I already feel like we’re having sex. Everything is heating up. My skin. His skin. That place between my thighs that realizes we have access to a cock that is hungry for nothing but us. I bet he’s bigger than I feel. I bet Logan Dean knows how to fuck hard and rough, taking a girl for a wild ride until he bursts all over her. Oh my God. The shivers!
I’ve yet to really react. Passively sitting here, accepting his hungry kisses, is all I can do. When his passion softens into a chaste bite to my lower lip, I sigh, eyes rolling back in my head. Now I’m the one initiating a kiss. Long. Meandering. Demanding compensation for what he so erroneously said about me in that article.
“You said I’m a kinky slut! You said I had threesomes and orgies and whatever the fuck else the editor had to censor!” Shit, I wish that was true. When I’m in the mood, I start fantasizing about all sorts of crazy scenarios. Right now I’m fantasizing about the wild way Logan Dean could fuck me. I want the whole kit of nasty. The crass words, the spanks to my ass, the hair pulling, the hands pushing me down, the unsheathed cock filling me with hot...
I’ve never done that before. I want to do it right now.
“Knew you wanted me,” Logan groans against my lips. “You don’t kiss like no prude.”
“Do I look like one?” My bright red nails tug against my blouse, showing him my exposed breast again. If I rock just right in his lap, the mound jiggles, and we both appreciate that spectacle. I like the way it feels, and based on how much he’s growing beneath my ass, he likes the way it looks. In case he still thinks I’m a prude, I kiss him, my tongue running along his perfect teeth and my hands exploring his hard chest. Hard. Everything is so damn hard.
If he doesn’t fuck hard too, I will be so disappointed I may have to swear off men forever.
“You know what I want right now?” I say without thinking, my thighs grinding against his jeans. “I want you to fuck me. Do it now, before I realize what the hell I’m doing with you.”
His groan grows louder, arms encircling me, hands grabbing my ass and yanking up my skirt. I can’t believe how strong he is. This man could toss me like a stone and not break a sweat! Could he toss me around a bit? Throw me around and show me what a man he is? I’m limber and eager enough to take it. Take it. That’s what I want to do. I want to feel my clothes ripped from my body and his body surging into mine on the road to breaking every piece of me so I can be born anew.
“I would love to fuck you, Daphne.” Oh my God. Is that what my whole name sounds like from him? I didn’t know my name could sound so naughty. “What do you think I’ve been thinking about ever since meeting you?”
“I dunno. What?”
He lifts up against me, his cock sliding against my thighs. Doesn’t matter if it’s tucked in those tight jeans of his. I feel every damn inch!
“I want to fuck this prissy perfect girl streak out of you. I want to fuck you so hard and good that you forget who you are and why you care so much about your image. Get me? You’ll be squirming on my cock and begging for things that good girls don’t know exist.”
I’m melting in his arms. He’s almost got me. I’m halfway to spreading my legs wider so he can do that to me.
Then I open my eyes and see his determined look turn into that smirk I despise so much.
“Fuck,” I whimper, embarrassed that I said anything at all. To his chagrin I crawl out of his lap and momentarily curl up on the edge of his bed. My eyes catch a glimpse of his erection in his pants. Do you know what I want to do to that thing? Go on. Take a guess. Obviously it has to do with unleashing it and seeing what kind of power it really holds. “This isn’t supposed to happen.” I was supposed to give him a piece of my mind… not my ass.
He follows me off the bed and attempts to take my hand. He fails.
“I should go.” Where is my purse? Right. On the floor in the main room. I go there now, fixing my blouse along the way. I hazily take in the apartment around me. Clean. Masculine. Definitely a designer’s work, but it’s been well cared for. A tasteful painting of a half-naked woman in the living room reminds me of what almost happened.
I need to leave before I make a huge mistake that I’ll regret.
“Scared?” comes Logan’s voice from the bedroom doorway. “One kiss, and you bail? Didn’t think I was that frightening.”
I try to ignore him as I pick up my purse and finish straightening out my clothes. Am I decent? I have to be decent when I leave his place. It’s bad enough I’m still thinking of the way he kissed me. Owned me for those brief seconds. I clear my throat. Shake my head. Anything to make the images go away. I refuse to carry them with me on the way out of here.
Logan approaches, but it only makes me move faster. I don’t want him hearing the erratic pounding of my heart.
“Bye,” I say, putting my hand on the front doorknob. I glance over my shoulder and see him looking anything but pleased. Sure, he thought I would end up in his bed, ass up in the air and begging him to fuck me until I couldn’t scream anymore. Even so, I told him I wanted him to fuck me… but at least I kept some dignity.
He’s behind me. Not trying to touch me, but an easy distance from me. “Bye, Daph.” He looks away. “I’m sorry about the magazine. Really.”
I slightly turn, taking in his half naked body and the somber expression on his face. Is he really sorry? This is the most mature I’ve seen him ever, let alone in real life. Logan Dean’s reputation for being an unrepentant playboy is unprecedented. Nevertheless, I reach up and lightly kiss him on the cheek.
Just a small gesture. God, I’m a wreck.
I rush out after that, not wanting to take my chances around him again. As I fly down the stairs, I realize I could have easily turned that situation back there into something way more… more.
Never. I can never let that happen. Not just for my own reputation, but for the sake of my poor Daddy’s heart. I’ve disappointed him enough so far this year. Falling for a bad boy would absolutely kill him.
Chapter 5
LOGAN
The door slams shut. I stand here, totally gob smacked over what just happened.
I had her. Right there, panting in my bed, begging for my touch and kiss in a way that seemed too good to be true. Apparently it was. Just when I thought I was going to fuck the girl of my dreams, she bailed on me with hardly an explanation.
For the second time Daphne DeMarco has left me with a stiff cock and no one to take care of it. I swear, she’s going to drive me to extremes.
After another – cold – shower, I attempt to go about my day. First I hit up the grocery store, instantly reminded of Daphne when I see the lobsters. Not just because she pinches like the devil, either, or because she gets lobster red when she’s furious. It’s what she ordered on our double-date, not that she stayed long enough to enjoy it.
Then I have an appointment at the barbershop. I listen to the chatter of the guys around me, congratulating one anothe
r on either their most recent conquests or the trips they’re taking with their current girlfriends and wives. When the guy doing my hair asks about my recent dating life, having already read my interview, I simply say that things are heating up. What I wish I could say is that I scored with someone like Daphne DeMarco. For some reason, I’d feel bad about mentioning her name. I’ve done enough damage already. Irreparable? Fuck me. I think so.
I can’t stop thinking about her no matter where I go. I replay what happened in my bedroom. The way she straddled my hips, teasing my cock with her poor pussy trapped in clothing. Does she know she left a wet spot on my jeans? That was almost hotter than the thoughts of fucking her.
Her breasts had rubbed against my chest. Her lips were as eager as mine to kiss and suck. They wanted punishing. Everything begged to be punished with my body.
My whole week is like this. Every day I wake up thinking of Daphne. Not just her body or how she felt against me, but the sound of her voice, whether she’s giving me a piece of her mind or laughing at something Ashleigh Lee said. Her smile when she thinks I’m not looking. The fact that she’s so fiercely protective of who she is. That woman has a ton of confidence for someone raised to be a spoiled princess. I’m not used to that. I’m used to girls like Ashleigh, or girls who think they’re confident.
So consumed are my pathetic thoughts that I don’t fool around with another girl. I’m given plenty of opportunities. I could call one up from my address book. Or I could nail a waitress behind a restaurant. Maybe that hottie at the bar Angus and I go to for a few beers. I bump into a supermodel at my mother’s apartment. She’s older than me, but I can tell she’s ready to teach me a few things. I decline.
Angus invites me to a club, which would almost ensure a lay with a star-struck girl. I don’t go. If my goal isn’t to get laid, I find little appealing about the clubs.
All I do is mope like a loser. I haunt the Facebook app on my phone, trying to see Daphne’s private profile which I’ve sent a friend request to. (She never responded.) Staring at her photo doesn’t help me much. It only makes me crazy to see her again.