by Meghan March
“I’m actually back in New York.”
The phone goes silent for a moment. “Already? You can’t tell me you’re bored with Logan.”
I steel myself to say the words that don’t seem to be getting any easier. “No. Myrna Frances, my old across-the-hall neighbor, passed away.”
“The old bat? The one who got you evicted?” Greer asks, confusion clear in her tone.
“Yeah, except she didn’t get me evicted. She . . . actually, she left me everything, including her apartment.”
Another silence falls between us.
“Are you shitting me?” It seems to be the most astute question to ask when it comes to what happened.
“Not shitting you. I don’t have more money than you, but I’ve got a lot now.”
“I’m so sorry to hear she passed, but wow. That’s just . . . crazy. So you’re staying in Manhattan for good now?”
My answer is quick and unequivocal. “No. At least, I don’t plan to right now.”
“So that means things are going well with Logan?”
“Things are good. I like him, Greer. This is all-new territory for me.”
I don’t have to tell her that last bit because there’s no doubt that she already knows how unusual this is.
“How big is his dick?”
I choke on the spit in my mouth when my friend shoots me a question that would be more characteristic coming from me. “Did you really just ask that?”
“You would.”
“True. Friends shouldn’t let friends settle for guys with small penises.”
For some reason, with Logan as the subject, I find myself less willing to share than I have been in the past.
“Oh my God, you don’t want to tell me,” Greer says. “Either it’s really freaking small or you really do like him, like him. And if I know you, there’s no way you’d fall for a guy with a small penis. It’s against the Banner Regent handbook.”
“I don’t have a handbook.”
“But if you did . . .”
She has a point. “All I’m going to say is this. He’s got Congo beat.”
Greer sucks in a breath because she’s also fluent in the country-by-country penile-size comparison research. Mostly because we made it a game to memorize it just in case we both got to travel extensively and wanted to be sure we had the best chance of getting the good dick.
“Holy shit. I have to go look outside to see if people are ice skating, because I think hell just froze over. You really do like him.”
“I’m so fucked, Greer.”
“Why? It’s not a bad thing.”
“He lives in Kentucky.”
“And so do you,” she points out.
“For now. But what if . . .” I trail off.
“What if what? What are you worried about?”
It’s time to face my fear. “What if he realizes I’m not enough for him?”
Another beat of silence passes before she responds. “I may have only met Logan Brantley once, but he didn’t strike me as a stupid man. You’re more than enough. He’s fucking lucky that you’re with him. You are a prize, Banner. Don’t ever forget it.”
In that moment, I’m reminded that sometimes you just need a pep talk from your best friend to set your world straight.
“You’re right. I am.”
“Good girl. Now, get your attitude back in place before we completely swap roles here.”
“I love you, G.”
“I love you, B.”
“I miss you. Don’t be a stranger.”
“Same to you. Now, go call that man and have some filthy phone sex so he’s thinking about you all night while you’re hundreds of miles away.”
“Damn, look at you being the dirty girl. It suits you.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
We say our good-byes and hang up.
I contemplate her suggestion while I finish my sushi, and then open my texts with Logan.
BANNER: Can you talk?
My phone vibrates in my hand thirty seconds later with a call rather than a text.
“Hey, Bruce.”
“Hi.”
“You’ve got some good timing. I’m just taking a quick break before I dive back into work.”
I look at the clock. It’s almost seven in Gold Haven. “How’s the project going?”
“I’ve got a shit load more work to do on this car than I thought. We’re all hustling, and I’m putting in more time than anyone because that’s how it goes. How are things up there?”
“I put in a lot of time at Myrna’s. It’s . . . harder than I expected.” The burn of tears stings behind my eyes.
Logan’s voice softens. “Of course it is, babe. She might’ve been a crotchety old lady, but she was your crotchety old lady.”
He’s exactly right. “I think what makes it harder is that I let her die thinking something horrible about her. That’s not something I’ll ever be able to change. It’s been driving me crazy.” A sniffle escapes, and I’m sure the tears will follow.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I wish I could hold you and tell you all the right things.”
I snuffle again. “It’s okay. I know it’s my fault. I just have to live with it.”
“She’d be proud of you, Banner. She wouldn’t have left you everything if she was holding a grudge.”
I think back to what the lawyer told me about Myrna changing her will almost weekly. “Or maybe she just didn’t have time to change her mind.”
“Stop, Bruce. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Learn from it. Honor her memory by carrying out her wishes.”
“How’d you get so smart about stuff like this?”
“I lost a lot of brothers, and death never gets easier. All you can do is try to do better in the future if you leave something unfinished in the past.”
The tears are drying up, and I go on to tell him about the romance novels and Jordana staying here with Sofia.
“I like dogs. I’ve always worked too much to have one, and I didn’t want to be the kind of business where I had one sleeping in the waiting room all the time. If Sofia doesn’t want to take her, you can bring her home.”
Home. He says it so easily because that’s what it is for him.
Is it mine now too? Because New York feels less and less like my home every hour that I’m here.
“I’ll ask her and let you know.”
“That sounds like a plan.” He yawns into the phone.
“You’re working too hard.”
“No such thing when you own your own business.”
“Did you even stop to eat?” As soon as my question is out, another thought follows. Emmy Harris better not try anything while I’m gone. We covered the pie situation, but I wouldn’t put anything past her.
Logan Brantley is nobody’s fool and picks up on my tone. “What are you really asking?”
I’m not beating around the bush. “Did Betty Crocker Barbie try to bring you a picnic basket tonight because I’m not around?”
He laughs, and I want to punch him for it. “Jealous, Bruce?”
I force out a laugh of my own. “Of course not. I mean, no more jealous than you’d be if I told you I saw Brandon Sidewalk outside the hotel.”
Logan’s laugh dies. “That fucker who tried to put his hand up your skirt?”
It actually shocks me that he remembers that, and so quickly. “You remember that?”
“Of course I remember the list of guys I’ll need to take care of if I ever meet them.”
Something about his macho words gets me going. “Oh yeah? So you are jealous?”
“I told you, that’s my pie. I don’t share my pie with anyone.”
“And I told you I don’t share either.”
“You throw attitude at me like that when you’re around, it’s gonna be hard for me not to want to fuck it right out of you.”
Instantly my panties are soaked, and I remember Greer’s advice about filthy phone sex.
“Are you in the garage al
l by yourself?”
“Of course.”
“Is your cock hard?”
Logan releases a breath and turns the question around on me. “Is your pussy wet?”
“Dripping.”
He groans into the phone. “Fuck, baby. I wish I had you riding my face right now so I could taste all that sweetness. And for the record, I’m rock fucking hard.”
I picture Logan in the garage, his hand in his ripped jeans as he jacks his cock. “I wish I could see you.”
“Strip. I want you naked, lying on the bed, legs spread so you can bury your fingers deep in that sweet pussy. I want to hear you make yourself come as I tell you how fucking sexy you are.”
I put the phone on speaker and drop it on the bed so I can peel off my jeans, shirt, panties, and bra. After tearing the duvet off the bed, I move the phone up higher and prop myself up on a pillow.
“If you could see me right now, you’d know that I’m doing exactly that.” My fingers trail down my body to slide through my wetness.
Normally, if I were doing this without a phone audience, I’d tease myself more, but with Logan’s words echoing in my head, there’s no need.
His low growl comes through the phone at the same time as my index finger circles my clit. I plunge two fingers inside.
“How tight are you?”
“So tight, but I want more.”
“You want my cock, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you bring one of your toys with you?”
“I never leave home without one.”
“Go get it.”
I pop off the bed, eager to follow his orders because I need this orgasm more than I need vodka. And that’s saying a lot.
Once I’ve retrieved a prototype from my bag, I return to the bed and the phone. “I’m ready.”
“Lay back down, spread your legs, and tease yourself.”
“Are you jacking yourself off right now, Logan? I need a visual.”
“I’m strangling my cock with my fist, but it’s nothing compared to how hard your pussy grips me when you come.”
I moan, loving his dirty words.
“That’s right, baby. Tease that pussy, because you’re going to fuck it and we’re gonna come at the same time. I want the whole fucking city of New York to hear you scream my name.”
I writhe on the bed, the vibrations of the toy on my clit already dragging me toward the edge, but I need it inside me.
“I’m ready.”
“You’re ready when I say you are.”
“Please, Logan.”
“Fuck, I love the sound of you begging. Push it inside; tell me how it feels.”
I slide the vibrator into my slick entrance, and kick up the intensity of the G-spot massager.
“Oh God. This won’t take long,” I tell him, my voice shaking.
“Fucking right it won’t. You feel it on your G-spot?”
“Yes. Oh my God, yes.”
“Don’t forget to play with that sweet little clit. This is gonna go fast and hard.”
I reach down and toy with my clit as I fuck myself with the vibrator. My moans are met with Logan’s heavy breathing as he jacks himself off.
“I wish I could see you, but I can picture you in my mind, and you’re so fucking beautiful.”
The tidal wave of pleasure surges. “I’m not going to last long.”
“You don’t need to. Come hard, baby. Come hard and let me hear it.”
I kick up the vibrations to the next level, and my scream pierces the room. “Logan!”
He groans loudly into the phone, followed by garbled words, and I picture thick, ropy jets of semen landing on the hood of a car. Who knew that would be so sexy?
I pull the vibrator away as aftershocks rip through me, and curl up on my side. “Did you come on a car?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“Did I scream loud enough?”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he replies. “It’ll do for now, but this isn’t going to be the last time.”
“What did you say when you came? I couldn’t understand.”
A few beats pass before he replies. “Something I’d rather tell you in person.”
Chapter 8
Banner
A week later
BANNER: I think I want to buy a pony now that I’m a legit millionaire.
MY SEXY MAN: Ponies don’t cost millions. They’re a dime a dozen down here.
BANNER: A unicorn?
MY SEXY MAN: Bruce . . .
BANNER: And I don’t mean a pony that has something pointy just stuck to its head. No cheating.
MY SEXY MAN: Bruce . . .
BANNER: What? How is this unreasonable?
MY SEXY MAN We’ll find you a really expensive pony.
BANNER: A pink one?
MY SEXY MAN: I’ll pick up some Rit dye at Walmart.
BANNER: Okeydokey.
* * *
A few days later
BANNER: How about a boat? Maybe a yacht. That’s a weird word. Yacht. I had to autocorrect it.
MY SEXY MAN: The only boats we have any use for here are bass boats.
BANNER: Bass boat doesn’t have the same ring to it as yacht. Shit. I spelled it wrong again! Thank you, autocorrect. If I can’t spell it, I probably shouldn’t own one.
MY SEXY MAN: Why would you want a yacht to begin with?
BANNER: I was watching this Discovery Channel thing on mega-yachts, and all the cool kids have them.
MY SEXY MAN: Do you need me to come up there and fuck the yacht thing out of you? Because you’re already the coolest kid around in my book.
BANNER: YES, I DO. I wish you could. But I know you’re busy. You’re pretty cool in my book too.
MY SEXY MAN: Is that right?
BANNER: Do you need me to come down there and fuck the cool into you?
BANNER: That didn’t quite have the same ring to it, did it?
MY SEXY MAN: Not quite. But I sure wish you would. Miss you, baby.
BANNER: Miss you more.
* * *
A few days later
“Why’d you stop?” Logan asks.
With two fingers buried in my pussy, but unmoving, I shake my head. “Sorry. I just . . . I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but your cock has never looked bigger than it does on Skype.”
Logan’s gaze narrows. “Woman, you need to watch what you say. And it’s clear that you need to get your ass home so you can get up close and personal again with my cock.”
I laugh at his serious expression. “I’m just saying that whatever angle that is really works for you. It looks mammoth. I don’t even think I could fit it in my mouth right now. If the car restoration stuff doesn’t work out, you could definitely do jerk-off videos. Never mind. I didn’t say that. I don’t even know what those are.”
“Banner . . .”
“Sorry. I just . . . I miss you so much.”
Logan and I are trying to have Skype sex, and I’m so freaking happy to finally see his face (and penis) after I pestered him over and over and over again to sign up for a Skype account.
Long story short, we got naked, and I started doing my thing, Logan started doing his, and then I sort of stopped because I got so caught up in watching him do his thing.
My man definitely has Congo beat. By inches.
Logan drops his head back on his pillow and tosses the blanket over his lap. “I want you here. Miss you too.”
I pull my hotel robe closed and reach out to touch my screen with my non-pussified fingers. “I’ll be back soon. If it were up to me, I’d be done with this stuff already.”
He sighs. “Do your best, Bruce. I’m gonna call it a night. I’m beat.”
I want to say three words to him, especially looking at his face after two weeks apart, but I don’t.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Logan. Sleep well.”
“You too, baby.”
Chapter 9
Banner
&n
bsp; One week later
I’m still in New York, and now more than ever, I’m itching to get back to Gold Haven. Sorting out Myrna’s estate has taken multiple meetings with lawyers followed by meetings with financial advisers, and then there was the never-ending packing up of her apartment and my own business to run while I did it all.
My phone rings as I flop onto the bed in my hotel room after a long freaking day finishing up with the designer who is redecorating Myrna’s apartment. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer it anyway because the area code is Gold Haven’s.
“Hello?”
“Damn, girl. You ever planning on coming back?”
The voice is familiar, but it takes me a few seconds to place it. “Julianne?”
“Who the hell else would it be? Did you suddenly make a bunch of friends in town that I don’t know about?”
“Not exactly. But I’m coming back. Hopefully really soon.”
“You might want to speed up your plans because the vultures are circling over your man. I don’t know if it’s because they sense he’s a wounded animal, ready to be taken down, or if they’re just desperate to get their last shot in before you show up again.”
I stiffen. “Excuse me?”
“Gold Haven’s finest are cornering him in the grocery store, and tromping in and out of his shop so often, it’s a wonder the man has gotten a damn thing done.”
With Julianne’s vantage point from her salon across the street, I have to believe she’s telling the truth.
“Bitches,” I mumble under my breath.
“Definitely bitches. So I figured I’d give you the heads-up, because you know Logan, he’s too damn nice to tell them to leave him the hell alone in a way they’re going to take to heart.”
“What do you mean?”
“The only thing Emmy Harris has ever set her sights on that she hasn’t locked down is the new-and-improved Logan Brantley, and she’s not backin’ off without a fight. I’m pretty sure she built that house hoping he’d be moving into it with her someday soon.”
Red rage fills my vision. “What the hell doesn’t she understand about the word taken?”
“Girl, you’re out of sight and out of mind for her, so you better believe she doesn’t see it that way. I wanted you to know that it might be in your best interest to get your ass back here so you can stake your claim before she finds some way to snake him out from under you without him realizing it.”