by Logan Chance
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DATE ME
By Logan Chance
Copyright © held by Logan Chance
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
“It isn’t a secret your dick needs some action.”
“Fuck, Lexi, can you please not talk about my most treasured organ?” I asked as we sat in a side booth at the local diner.
“It’s hardly an organ. But, that’s my point. It’ll shrivel up and fall off if you don’t use it,” she said, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder.
“I use it plenty.” I picked up my fork and spun it between my fingers before digging into my egg special. This conversation couldn’t be more wrong.
“Oh, please. You haven’t been laid since Gretchen what’s her face, and that was over eight months ago.”
“I don’t know what’s more disturbing here, the fact you remember that, or you’re my sister.”
Lexi, my twin, the female version of me, only with a touch of snarky sass and a foul mouth to make a few sailors blush.
“What are we talking about here?” Marley’s soft voice filled the booth and I cringed. My sisters were double teaming me, and I knew it.
“Erik’s dick,” Lexi answered, through a mouthful of pancakes.
“Ooh, let me get my magnifying glass, and I can join in.” Marley, the baby of the family, pushed on my shoulder, and I scooted over so she could slide in beside me.
“Enough.” My deep voice was firm. “I’m not having this discussion again with the both of you.”
“Touchy. What’s wrong big brother?” Marley picked up the menu and gave me an innocent look. “Did the girl from the coffee shop not work out?” she teased.
The problem with both my sisters was they liked to meddle. And their favorite life to intrude on? Mine.
Lexi pointed her fork at me. “All I’m saying is, you would be a lot happier if you got your dick wet.”
“Tell me again how Jared puts up with you?” I asked.
“Oh, the relationship is still new, and I suck a mean cock. I grab it real good with both hands,” Lexi dropped her fork and wrapped her hands around an imaginary dick, giving a sly grin to Marley, “then, I swivel my head around and go to town.” She laughed as she picked up her fork and knife and sliced into her pancakes.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked while they both laughed.
“Nothing,” she said as a dribble of syrup oozed out of her mouth.
“Calm down, Erik. We’re only trying to help,” Marley said as the waitress approached and took her order.
“Yeah, what she said.” Lexi pointed her fork toward Marley and then continued to devour her stack of blueberry pancakes.
“And what makes you both think I even need your help?”
Lexi’s fork and knife fell from her fingers, clattering on her plate. Her head sprang up; mouth open with the remnants of chewed up pancakes. She grabbed her napkin and wiped her mouth while she finished off the food in her mouth. “Ok, shit just got real. You need us Erik. Have you forgotten what next month is?” Lexi asked.
Marley giggled beside me as my face heated. “I told you not to mention next month. I’m going to be doing some rock climbing in an undisclosed location.”
“Oh please, no you aren’t. You’re going,” Marley said firmly, turning over her coffee cup for the waitress to fill. “Just like all of us are going. To show that bitch what she’s missing out on.” The waitresses’ eyes grew wide, but Marley waved her off with an apology.
“Why would she even invite me anyways?” I asked, totally deflated once again.
“You know exactly why. Our moms are best friends. Mom doesn't realize she’s a life-sucking whore. And because Steffie wants to make everyone else just as miserable as her,” Lexi chimed in.
“On her wedding day?” I popped a slice of bacon into my mouth as both Marley and Lexi laughed.
“Of course on her wedding day. Bitches want everyone miserable on their wedding day,” Lexi said.
I shook my head; the mysteries of women being revealed a bit more by my sister’s warped minds. “I don’t think most girls think like that.”
“Ok, not most, but Steffie Jamison sure the fuck thinks like that.”
Steffie, Stefany Jamison, my ex-girlfriend who I dated for five years and now the fiancée to a man she met while on an African safari a few months back. The point was, we broke up last year, and I was over her. But, when her wedding invitation came in the mail, I was once again devastated.
Not because I wanted her back, but because she was happy without me.
“You need a smokin’ hot date,” Marley said when her pancakes arrived.
I passed the syrup over after she nudged me with her knee.
“Erik, you not only need a smokin’ hot girlfriend, but you need to move on. I like to see those blue eyes happy. Let me see the baby blues.” Lexi snapped her fingers in front of my face as I closed my eyes.
Both my sisters liked to tease me about my hypnotic blue eyes or so they called them. I tried not to smile as their teasing continued.
“Seriously, all I’m saying is you need to find someone. Why haven't you?” Lexi persisted. “You’re a good-looking guy. Tall, lean, that slightly just fucked looking hair.” She winked at Marley. “And you’ve got those full lips just like me.” She made a kissy face and I glared at her. “And that’s why I called this meeting.”
I knew it. My assessment was right; this was an ambush.
“Meeting?” I asked.
“We kind of have something to tell you,” Marley said in a voice which I knew meant she had already done something I would not be too happy about.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
“It’s nothing really,” Marley hedged.
“Tell me, now.” Trying to get information from the two of them was like interrogating a national spy. Sometimes the thought of torturing them came to mind.
“Weeellll,” Marley drew out the word.
“Oh, for fucks’ sake, just tell him,” Lexi interrupted. “We made a profile for you on the new dating app, Cupid’s Happy Hearts.”
My mouth grew dry and my face burned with irritation. “Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t want to be on some stupid Cupid’s Crappy Farts or whatnot. I’m going to kill you both.” Anger shot through me as I thought more and more about the events of next month and my sisters’ meddling.
Marley turned in the seat, and her green eyes locked with mine. “Listen, Erik, we did this out of love. We don’t want you to show up to Steffie’s wedding alone.”
“Who cares. Steffie will be getting married not worrying about who my date is.” I shoved my plate away, too disgusted to eat. Disappointment washed over Marley’s face and I sighed. My baby sister was my weakness. “How many messages?”
“That’s the spirit,” Lexi said. “Well, you’ve received a few arrows and winks. And about seventeen messages.”
I sat back against the red vinyl booth, crossing my arms, as I listened to Lexi explain each message in detail.
“There’s one girl we like a lot. Lexi tell him about the one girl,” Marley exclaimed.
“Go ahead, Lexi, tell me about the one girl.” I stayed in my position praying the vinyl would suck me away, and I could return home.
“Her name is Violet, and she’s a saucy real estate agent.” I raised a brow and she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Her words not mine. Anyways, she’s twenty-eight, and she seems like a good match with you.” Lexi pushed her plate to the center of the table and crossed her legs in the booth. She leaned over with both elbows on the table and widened her eyes, waiting for my response.
“Oh, really. Why’s that?” I asked.
“Well, she likes airplanes.” Lexi placed her feet back on the floor, her nervous energy getting the best of her.
“Did she say that? Did she say she liked planes?” Lies, I could see righ
t through Lexi.
“Not in so many words,” Marley interjected, placing her hand on my arm, “but she recently went on a trip on a plane.”
I dropped my head, staring into my lap, and shook my head. “You two are really reaching here. Fine, how about you give me the login info, and I’ll check it out.”
These two were relentless, and they would never give up unless I gave them something. They both squealed with delight, and I felt I had just signed my own death sentence. But, the truth was, I did need a date for Steffie’s wedding. As much as I wanted to ignore the fact, her wedding was coming, and I would not be the only dateless mother fucker there. No, I’d have a date, and I’d flaunt that bitch right under Steffie’s fake nose.
After the ambush at the diner, I returned to work with the login info to the crappy cupid site stuffed in my back pocket.
“How was breakfast?” Connor asked as I walked into the hangar and grabbed the pre-flight checklist clipboard.
“Breakfast with the sisters. What do you think?”
“That’s shitty. What did they want this time?” he asked, following me over to the Gulfstream.
The sleek private jet was fueled and ready to take its owners to the Caribbean Islands. The owners traveled to the islands a few times a week, and Connor and I made sure they got there.
As captain of the Gulfstream, and Connor as my co-pilot, we usually spent many nights sleeping away from our homes.
“Get this, they put me up on some dating phone app.” We climbed the stairs to the jet and entered. The flight attendant was there making sure the cabin was in pristine condition. We waved to her, headed into the cockpit, and shut the door.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Which one?” Connor ran a hand through his short, auburn hair and laughed.
“Cupid’s Crappy Shits And Giggles. I can’t remember the name.”
“I think I’ve heard of that one.” Connor laughed. “Anyone hot on it?”
“I haven’t even looked yet,” I said.
“So, what’s the big deal? Find some pussy on the site and move on.”
I shook my head before placing the headset on my head. A rap on the door had me biting back my words. I didn’t need to find pussy on a dating app to move on. If I wanted pussy, I could get it.
“Hi, boys. The guests will be here shortly. Did either of you need anything?” Selene, our flight attendant, asked.
“No, thanks. I’m all set,” Connor answered.
“What about you, Captain,” she slowed the word captain, dropping her voice an octave or two.
“I’m fine, Selene.” Selene was relentless in her pursuit of me. “Thank you.” Never fuck a flight attendant. That was my number one rule all through flight school. Especially on this gig. I loved this job.
She smoothed the side of her dark bun and turned on her heel, closing the door behind her.
“Man, fuck. She wants your cock,” Connor said, going over his pre-flight checklist. “Take her to the wedding.”
“Nah, I don’t want that. I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“Steffie really did a number on you, huh?”
I stared at all the knobs and gauges in front of me. “Yeah, and I’ll never make that mistake again.” And I wouldn't. I would never fall in love. My mind was already made up.
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Study Me
is the second Sex Me Novella Series book.
Read Chapter One
February 27th
Two years ago, I lost control. I vow to never let it happen again.
They’ve asked me to speak at a medical conference in Chicago. Me. A doctor who no longer believes in medicine.
Chapter One
MARLEY
Insanity-noun-extreme foolishness or irrationality.
That's me. I’ve lost my mind, but I can’t help it. Being so close to Professor Houston Dale does this to me. It’s led me to masturbating in the bathroom on a Boeing seven-forty-seven, thirty thousand feet in the air.
My fingertips race over my clit as I close my eyes conjuring up his dark irises, strong hands, his deep voice...oh, God, I’m going to come soon. I’m so wet, and the want swimming through my veins is too powerful to stop.
When we took off from the JFK airport, my nerves were shot from the idea of spending two whole days with my Anatomy professor.
Houston Dale, wait, I’m sorry, Doctor Houston Dale, was asked to speak at a prestigious medical conference in Chicago. As his assistant, he asked me to come along
At first, I was thrilled with the prospect of meeting some of the nation’s most brilliant physicians. In my excitement, I spent hours packing and repacking a variety of clothes—casual, business, even a slinky cocktail dress. My suitcase for this weekend trip is filled with enough outfits for an entire week. Then, my nerves took over. A weekend trip. With Professor Dale. Two whole days of being in close quarters with him, no buffer. Let me explain the problem with this scenario—even if my body doesn't agree, I don't particularly like Professor Dale most days. But, on the other days, I really do. It’s his brain, his intelligence. He’s so smart, and of course, it’s scary. To say he’s intimidating is an understatement. If you don't complete an assignment or if you fail a test, the ridicule is severe. Believe me, I’ve experienced it a time or two.
Miss Murphy, maybe you need to return to high school and learn the fundamentals of education.
Miss Murphy, will you tell your patients you had no time to complete their chart?
Miss Murphy, blah blah blah.
The gorgeous man can be downright terrifying. Keyword, gorgeous. Tall, distinguished, and fucking sexy as hell in his glasses. He's constantly running his hand through his dark waves, his frustration with his students leaving his hair in a sexy rumpled mess. It's distracting. So many times, he's chastised me, not knowing I was focused on the shape of his full lips forming the words. The way they sound coming out in his deep voice. Class is much harder when your Anatomy professor is talking about the human body and you’re checking out his.
Shit, my legs tremble as I try to steady myself in the small confines of the tiny bathroom. A burst of turbulence propels me forward a bit, and I lose focus momentarily. Until I remember the words Houston said to me five minutes before I beelined to the restroom on this airplane to touch myself.
We were sitting side by side, his muscular leg brushing up against mine, our forearms mere hairs apart on the armrest. Just a hint of stubble decorated his chiseled jaw, and I couldn’t stop staring at it. I wanted to touch it, see if it was soft. If it would scrape the sensitive skin on my thighs.
The flight attendant was no help at all. She kept setting those adorable, tiny bottles of vodka on my tray. So, I drank them. One after the other. All while watching him concentrate on the leather-bound note book he wrote in. He has really nice hands. Hands that have held someone's life in them. Obviously, that led to me wondering how they would feel on my breasts. With alcohol coursing through my veins, my imagination took off, like anytime I’m near Professor Dale. I couldn’t stop it. In my fantasy, he wrote about all the wicked things he wanted to do to me. Then, he leaned over, his warm breath fanning across my cheek, “Don’t get too drunk now. I wouldn’t want to have to take advantage of you.”
My green eyes slid to his dark brown, and he laughed, slightly.
I, however, did not.
My pussy pulsed and I excused myself, rushing to the bathroom, consumed with need.
Yes, you’re probably thinking I’m either an idiot who hasn’t had sex in forever, or, I’m a naughty little nympho. Which, as you can see, I fantasize about being his. I mean, uh hello, I’m masturbating here. But, sadly, I’m neither.
All I know is… I’m drunk. Drunk enough to admit to myself, I have a crush on Professor Dale. He may be an asshole, but he's a brilliant one, and for me that's a turn on.
Bracing my hand on the wall, my fingertips circle faster against my clit as I use our
boarding the plane for inspiration. The way Houston’s eyes bore into mine, the cramped aisle, his hard body pressed against me. Yesss. His strong hand searing the skin on the small of my back, leading me into the seat.
Bend over the desk. You need to be disciplined.
Fuck, I pick up speed, circling faster. It feels so good. Desire runs rampant in my core imagining Professor Dale spanking my bare ass with a ruler. Another jolt of turbulence causes the walls of the bathroom to shake, and my orgasm crashes through me. Wave after wave of ecstasy. I moan his name as another bump of turbulence hits, this one causing the bathroom door to fling open.
My startled eyes meet his.
Dark.
Mysterious.
Shocked. Wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my skirt up and my hand in my pink panties.