by Nicole Fox
# # #
Logan
Francesca screamed Logan’s name again, heedless of neighbors or anything else. She wanted this moment to never end. As Logan slid his thumb inside of her, his tongue found the hot, boiling center of her, caressing all of the right places to make her writhe with pleasure. No one had ever touched her so expertly in her whole life. Sex with Davis had never been like this; Francesca could feel Logan’s desire to please her over and over again, and she found herself begging for every touch and caress that would get her there.
His mouth worked over her, licking, sucking, and tasting every inch of her dripping pussy, ferreting out her favorite places so he could exploit them. Slipping his thumb inside her again, he massaged and teased as his mouth explored her throbbing womanhood.
Biting her lip, Francesca grabbed a hold of Logan’s head. Her nails scratched gently against his scalp to pull him closer to her, to press his hot, wet mouth harder against her clit again and again. Unable to keep still, Francesca rolled her hips against his tongue, aching to be closer, harder, faster. “Oh, Logan, right there. Yes, yes, yes!” She was crying out, her hips undulating against his questing mouth hard and fast. She could feel herself right at the edge of an orgasm she was pretty sure she would never recover from. Her whole body shook with its coming, a tidal wave that started in the base of her spine and spread out like a gas fire from the center of her being out to the edges of her being.
She screamed something, his name or some profanity probably, as that wave crested over her, crashing hard into her body. Her climax shook the whole damned world, and she screamed again, the aftershocks of the pleasure slamming into her repeatedly. Time disappeared in a torrential downpour of physical sensation, curling her toes and filling her emerald eyes with tears.
It took a solid minute for her to come down enough to speak again. “Fuck,” she whispered, her whole body covered with a thin sheen of sweat and the thick scent of sex. Every place Logan had touched burned, like he’d put his fingerprints in lava all over her skin.
“Such language from a lady,” Logan said. He was sitting on carpet on his knees, Francesca straddling his lap and leaning back against the sofa.
“You’ve been a terrible influence,” she gasped in reply as Logan’s questing cock found her dripping wet entrance. He’d found a condom somewhere in the house, and had somehow slid it on while she wasn’t paying attention. “Good thing too; I’m so far gone, I’m not sure I would have remembered.”
But all of her thoughts dissolved again as soon as the head of him entered her too-tight entrance, still vibrating with the massive earthquake that had just rocked it. Logan’s huge member cut Francesca in two, stretching her out in a mix of pleasure and pain that felt like heaven.
“All the way in!” she demanded, her voice rough from all of her screaming. “Fuck me now, Logan!” Clawing at his back, Francesca tried to force the whole of him inside of her, but Logan wouldn’t be rushed.
Much to her delight and despair, he took a long time sliding his dick inside of her body as she fought to thrust hard against him. But once he was inside, Francesca threw back her head in delight. He was perfect, the length of him caressing all of the places she wanted to feel him without being too big. It was like he was built for her, the width of him filling her up until it was just the perfect amount of pained pleasure.
Deliberately taking each of her tiny wrists in his massive, masculine hands, Logan pinned her to the couch. With eyes that were so feral they were barely human staring her down, he pulled out, then slammed into her body like a freight train. The rhythm he set made her whole body scream in pleasure, and she fucked him back, hard. Hips gyrating to the tune of his music, Francesca mewled in time with his thrusts, demanding more and more, harder and deeper into her body.
Roughly, Logan picked her up and tossed her onto the couch on her stomach, a heavy hand in the middle of her back, holding her down as he thrust into her dripping pussy from behind. The new angle almost shattered her again, the pleasure from the feel of him inside of her dragging her to the edge of climax. It was building so high and fast that she knew this orgasm would drown her.
He was so powerful, so strong, his cock like a jackhammer inside of her, caressing all of the right places as he plowed her again and again.
When she came the second time, she saw stars, the whole world disappearing behind a gossamer curtain of pleasure. She felt him fall over the edge a moment later, a shout of her name, then a shivering stillness. It took a long time for them to come down off of their high, Francesca’s whole body quivering with remembered, shared pleasure.
“Was it good for you?” she whispered, her breath coming in gasps that made her breasts heave against the scratchy fabric of the couch. It was too much; the nerves in every inch of her body were overrun. This little brush was enough to make her cry out, gasping with the rough feel against her skin.
“God, yes,” he answered, his voice a mere gasp in his throat.
Feeling pretty good about that response, Francesca pushed herself to her wobbling feet. Her knees looked like sandpaper; how long had they been pressed against the carpet?
Logan looked up at her, shivering a little as the sweat cooled on his beautiful, muscled body. God, he was perfect.
“So, that thing you did with your mouth?” Francesca asked, her smile turning wicked.
Logan chuckled. “Yes?”
“I would like another demonstration, if you have a mind.” Her heart thundered in her chest; she wasn’t quite sure what she’d do if he said no. She couldn’t live another moment without feeling his mouth pressed against her again, even as her body throbbed hard with remembered passion.
The grin he gave her was equally wicked, sending delighted shivers along every part of her body. “I think my mouth would like that very much.” He got to his feet, picking Francesca up and throwing her over his shoulder. “Let’s find a bed, so I can show you some more things I can do that you’ll like.”
They didn’t make it all the way up the stairs the first time, but after a few hours, they finally managed to find Francesca’s bedroom. Neither of them got much sleep that night, much to their mutual delight.
Chapter Thirteen
Logan
Waking up was difficult. Logan wanted to hold onto that wonderful, sexy dream where he’d had Francesca on her living room floor for a little longer. Once he opened his eyes, the dream would start to fade around the edges and reality would take back over.
For now, he wanted to remember everything about that dream and not think of anything else.
But after a long moment of trying to keep the dream in his grasp, he had an odd thought. “The light is wrong.” And it was true; the light from his bedroom in Francesca’s home usually came from the other side, assaulting his left side with the too-bright desert sun.
Conclusion: Logan wasn’t in his room.
Chocolate eyes, swollen with sleep and red with lack of it, opened reluctantly. A mix of dread and delight filled his belly as he looked around, realizing that he was sleeping in Francesca’s room. “I’m also naked.”
Fuck. Last night wasn’t a dream.
The overwhelming desire to stay with Francesca hadn’t abated either, and that wasn’t a good thing. Pulling back the piles of sheets, blankets, and pillows, Logan got out of the bed and glanced around for his clothing. He didn’t really want to walk through the house naked, but it looked like Francesca hadn’t left him much choice. He took a deep breath and walked out into the hallway.
Lucky for him, no one was there. Francesca wasn’t even around, which filled him with all sorts of mixed emotions he refused to sort through.
So he showered, returned to “his” room, and dressed before heading down the stairs. He wanted to see Francesca again, see what it is that she thought of their exploits the night before.
But as he started down the stairs, he heard voices. One was definitely Francesca’s and the other was distorted by the speaker phone of Francesca’s
cell, Logan couldn’t even properly identify the gender of the person speaking. He shuffled the rest of the way down the stairs, his eyes automatically searching for Francesca.
As usual, he found her in her kitchen, brewing coffee. Sometimes she didn’t even drink whatever she made; Francesca simply really seemed to love the scent of coffee. “I should buy her a coffee-scented candle so she stops wasting perfectly good brew.”
Francesca’s glittering, emerald eyes met his, and her mouth shifted into a shy smile as Logan came into the kitchen. Without a sound, he grabbed a mug from the counter and poured himself some coffee, inhaling the sweet fumes before taking a big, burning sip of it.
“Yes, Mother, I told you. We’re going to Gala as a couple. It will work; I’m sure of it.”
“I don’t think you being seen in public, proclaiming that some nobody is your new boyfriend will do anything for your standing in society, Kitten,” said the scratchy, distorted voice from the other side of the phone.
Francesca held her sleek little phone too hard between her fingers, keeping it flat in front of her perfect mouth. There was a kind of tension in her that Logan only noticed when her mother was around. It radiated out from every inch of her body, the tension making her look like a bow string ready to snap.
“I mean, he’s very handsome, Francesca, but he’s not anybody,” her mother was still talking, and it was starting to make Logan angry. And not just because she was insulting him.
“I’m not sure anyone here really cares about your opinion, Mrs. Savoy,” Logan snapped, his anger lashing out. Francesca looked up at him like he’d kicked a puppy, and her mother became silent for a long time. Logan could literally feel the anger seeping out through the phone.
As though he had never spoken, Mrs. Savoy continued her conversation with her daughter. “He should come to the Gala as your very sexy bodyguard. You two can dance and have a good time; Davis will be back with you in no time.”
Francesca was still silent, her mouth opened in a horrified expression. Logan could feel his stomach dropping down into his feet. “Yes, Mother,” she whispered, her voice weak and submissive.
Frowning, Logan sat down a little too hard on the kitchen’s barstools grumbling under his breath. He couldn’t be ordered around by people like Mrs. Savoy, but obviously, Francesca would.
Despite telling himself over and over again not to hope, Logan found himself aching, knowing that Francesca still wanted back with her ex. Everything that happened last night was just lust after all, and Logan was going to have to learn to accept that fact. And quickly.
# # #
Francesca
“I don’t suppose you have any better ideas, you muscle-bound asshole.” Her mother didn’t actually seem to be in a foul mood, she seemed to enjoy insulting Logan. Perhaps she enjoyed riling her “bodyguard” up, or maybe she wanted to see if Francesca would get defensive.
All sorts of emotions boiled under the surface of her, but Francesca kept all of them to herself, fighting to keep her face as neutral as Logan’s. If he could act so cool after their passionate night together last night, then so could she.
Logan managed to keep the anger out of his voice, but his mouth gave him away, twisting into an unconscious frown. He was livid, not wanting to make even a single compromise with her mother. Francesca was nearly speechless. Diane Savoy never compromised with anyone. She was a Diamond Savoy in every sense of the word.
“We need to go as a couple. Davis is a man that will be distracted easily, and if he latches on to some other pretty girl at the party, you’ll lose him for good. And it would be good riddance in my opinion, too.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest, keeping close enough to Francesca to make sure her mother could hear him over the phone. Francesca felt a little awkward standing there, having two people argue over her. Her opinions didn’t seem like they would be welcome, so she kept her mouth shut, feeling utterly alone.
“Fine then, go as a couple. But you damn well better back away if Davis shows any interest. I won’t have you fucking this up for my daughter, understand?”
Logan made a noise under his breath. Not quite an answer, but Diane took it as an affirmation. “If you try and keep Davis away from Francesca, I will throw you out of Francesca’s house and life so fast, you won’t even know what hit you.” Without a goodbye or anything, Francesca’s mother hung up the phone.
Logan didn’t look happy with the outcome of their conversation, but Francesca was dumbstruck by it.
In Francesca’s memory, Diane never bowed to anyone. Not to her kids or any of her three husbands. She never even given in to her own mother, when she was still alive. Francesca was pretty sure the day Diane was born, she crawled out of her mother’s womb and ordered the doctor and the nurses to bring her a martini, and they did it.
Without a word, Logan left the kitchen, going to sit down on the couch in front of the TV. He seemed unable to meet her eyes for a second, like he knew all of this deciding things for her upset her. But he seemed unable to keep himself from arguing with her mother.
“He’s so rebellious. Why can’t he just accept the way things are and move on?” Francesca, who had woken up high on happiness wrapped in Logan’s strong arms was starting to question if that was all just silliness. “Logan doesn’t belong in my world. And I doubt I would even belong in whatever world he came from.”
It was so strange all of a sudden. She’d shared a house with this man and once shared a bed, but Francesca didn’t know a thing about him. Where did he come from? What were his hobbies? What sort of work did he do before he ended up in her home? What was he running from?
But the answers to those questions weren’t important; Logan didn’t belong here. And as soon as Davis was back in Francesca’s life, he would disappear, never to return.
And she had to be okay with that.
Chapter Fourteen
Logan
“What the hell is this for again?” Logan frowned down at the assorted collection of silverware around his plate. It looked like someone dumped a silverware drawer in front of him and tried to make some sort of nouveau art project with it. One person didn’t need this many plates, spoons, or forks. One of each was plenty.
Nikki laughed at his confusion. “Sit up straight and don’t say ‘hell,’” she said with mock seriousness. “Now, for the fifteenth time, that’s a salad fork. It’s for the salad.”
Logan just stared at her, unable to comprehend why the salad needed its own fork. “Why are we doing this again?”
Nikki flipped her long, black hair from her eyes. It fell in massive, voluminous waves from the crown of her head well past her shoulders. Logan had never seen such a full head of hair on anyone, and he wondered how she ever got a brush through it. The edges of her hair glowed with streaks of random colors, like she’d tumbled into a rainbow. Her eyes with the same, glowing green as Francesca’s, but Nikki’s were obviously contacts. Her skin was the deep brown of someone who owed their heritage to somewhere in Central America. She even had a touch of the accent.
Nikki was wearing something designer that looked like it is cost more than Logan’s bike did. She looked perfectly at home in this upscale restaurant. Both she and Francesca looked completely relaxed.
He felt as out of place in this crystal-and-china-infested cafe as a badger in a ballroom. It didn’t matter that they’d dressed him up again in a suit that was worth more than his entire life back home, he still felt like he stood out like a sore thumb. It was unbearable.
But Francesca needed him to do this so he could go to the Gala with her. It was incredibly important to her, so he made an effort to find it important, too. But all these rules seemed intricate and difficult for the sake of being intricate and difficult. None of the rules seemed to have a purpose other than to make Logan as confused and angry as possible.
“Whoever came up with this system obviously never had to wash dishes,” Logan grumbled, waiting for the waiter to bring what the girls had called the “Next Cour
se.” It sounded incredibly ominous to him.
Both Nikki and Francesca broke down in a fit of giggles, their eyes pricked with tears and glittering with laughter. Francesca looked like an angel when she smiled, a goddess when she laughed, but Logan wasn’t sure he liked her laughing at his expense.
“It’s simple; for each course they bring out, use the utensil that is furthest from your plate and work your way in. If you’re not sure what to use, watch the people on either side of you. They’ll know which fork or spoon to use.”
Nikki nodded. “I think the hardest part is knowing whether to use a spoon or a fork for what food,” she said her eyes trained on her phone’s screen. Never in his life had he ever seen adults so involved in their phones. Well, I guess that’s because most of the people I know can’t afford smartphones. “Like, the soup is easy, but there are some other things that you could eat either with easily. Just watch the people around you; it’ll be fine.”