by Kat T. Masen
“Do you promise me?”
“I promise you,” I whisper, placing my body on top of hers, our intimate position making this moment more arousing.
“Then take me,” she says confidently. “I’m yours.”
Two words that ignited an already-burning flame into an uncontrollable fire. I ravaged her with kisses, covering every inch of her body. I fucked her tight pussy for what seemed like forever, building the sweat between our bodies until we were both drenched. I tasted her arousal, making her come multiple times and forcing her to keep going because I knew her limit wasn’t reached. And when I got greedy, I watched her, on her knees, suck on my cock with her eyes desperate for more. The noise she made from the excess saliva had me teetering on the edge until I had to back off for just a moment, cooling myself down and throwing her onto the sofa beside the bed where I made her spread her legs and demanded she come . . . again.
She was insatiable. Wanting me to do things to her that I hadn’t done to anyone before. When her body lay limp, exhausted from her blissful finish, I took the liberty to make her suck me off again, commanding that she take me all in.
“Logan . . .” she hums with her eyes half closed, “I don’t know how much longer I can go.”
I’m pounding her hard, knowing she was on the verge again. Her body gave me the signs, her pussy clenched around my cock warning me she was close. “You said that three orgasms ago. I’m not done with you yet.”
She moans in delight, ignoring her exhaustion and begging me to make her come again.
I stop abruptly, her body reacting and eyes opening.
“Don’t stop.”
I grin wickedly. “Baby, this is just the beginning. Are you ready for your finale?”
She arches her head back with a laugh. “I’m ready.”
“Get on all fours,” I command.
I grab onto her hips and help her move, kissing the top of her shoulder to ease her nerves. The curves of her ass are beckoning me, delicious and fuckable. I run my hands along the curves, stopping just shy of her hole. Building up the saliva in my mouth, I drop some onto her ass, spreading it nice and wide ready for me to enter. I slowly graze the tip of my cock, entering in slowly as her body almost buckles. I stop, rub the small of her back, and wait for her to push back. When she does, I move in deeper until I’m all in.
Brushing against her ear, I whisper, “Are you okay?”
“Why do you have to have such a big cock?” she barely speaks.
I try not to laugh, taking it as a compliment. I grip onto her hips, using them as handles and guiding her through the pain. Her moans become deeper, and when her back buckles in, I know she is almost there.
I lean forward, twisting her hair in my hands and pulling her hair back so her face met mine.
“Come for me.”
Her face turns bright red and when I demand she come again, she muffles her screams biting down on her lips. It’s enough for me to finish, and when I deepen the strokes, it spirals through me ripping my entire body to shreds until we’ve both collapsed on the bed.
“I can’t even . . . what’s the . . . talk,” she finally gets out.
A small laugh escapes but it’s filled with pain from my aching muscles. I had worked myself to almost death these past few weeks and it paid off. I didn’t know what excited me more: winning or having her lay naked beside me.
“Aren’t you tired?”
“I could go again.”
“I think my vagina is broken,” she mumbles with a smile.
I turn my body around, making her do the same so we’re both laying sideways. Staring into her sleepy eyes, I think about what this day meant to me. Yes, I worked hard and it paid off. Soccer wasn’t just a sport to me—it was my life. I didn’t exist without it. But the victory meant nothing without her. I had never felt so alive than at this very moment although my body argued that. She wasn’t like any of the women I had been with . . . and she wasn’t Louisa. She was Emerson Chase.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she says with her eyes closed.
I think about her question, running my fingers along her cheek. “You’re here.”
“Where else would I be?”
“I don’t want to answer that.”
There’s a struggle to open her eyes. They’re tired but still bright blue. “Logan, don’t . . . we can’t.”
How do I tell her that I wanted her exclusively? With the pressures of our careers and lives, it would be impossible to make it work. We didn’t even live on the same continent. The media wouldn’t allow us to have a relationship and what about our family? Everything about us was difficult.
She shuffles her body closer to me, placing her lips on mine so we gently kiss.
“You only have to know that I don’t sleep with him anymore. Trust me, please.”
“Your text said differently.”
“You fucked that nurse,” she rebuts. “Logan, we both did things out of anger. I’m telling you the truth now. I don’t sleep with him. Please accept that or we can’t move on.”
I grit my teeth, trying to remain calm although every part of me wanted to tell her how I really felt. How last week I had spent my time watching season two. How at night when I couldn’t sleep, I found myself stalking the both of them online. It was a sick obsession and one that I couldn’t shake no matter how much I tried.
“Or anyone else.”
“I’m so tired I can’t even think. No one else . . . just you . . .”
Her gentle snores fall onto my chest, and with her final words easing my anxious thoughts, I hold onto her—wide awake—until the sun comes up.
The clock on the bedside table marks seven o’clock. We were due to meet Abbi, Chris, and Ash for breakfast in forty-five minutes. I knew Ash was staying in the same hotel, but had no idea where he ended up last night.
I didn’t sleep a wink, thinking this would be our last night for a very long time. Despite our win yesterday, Coach pegged me for an exclusive training camp in Spain that would begin after finals if we won. It would be a grueling four-week camp with zero chance to see her.
The thought alone drove me insane, so with her naked body laying beside me in the sunlight, I move on top of her and enter her slowly—fucking her till she begins to wake up.
The beautiful sight of her perky tits begged me to suck on them. Even her pussy feels raw, fucked beyond its means from our wild night. We last only a few moments before I blow inside, her body following closely behind.
We catch our breaths; her smile remaining on her tired face.
“Well good morning to you too.”
“What can I say, I’m an early riser.”
Her body lays flat and I wiggle myself out of her. “We have to leave soon.”
“Already? Did you even sleep?”
I shake my head. “But you did. You’re so cute . . . you still do that pouty sleep face from when you were a kid.”
She sits up with a struggle, holding onto her head while wincing. “When did you ever watch me sleep?”
“A dozen times,” I answer truthfully. “Whenever you fell asleep on the sofa and that time we camped in the backyard.”
“Oh yeah,” she reminisces along with me. “You stayed awake all night long and pretended to be a clown with the freaky mask. Ash couldn’t sleep for weeks after that.”
I laugh, a fond memory that still haunted him to this day.
“I should shower,” she yawns, stretching her arms then pulling them back wincing again.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, worried.
“You’ve fucked me to the point of thoroughly fucked. I can’t move.” She stands up, hobbling to the bathroom and turning the shower on. The water runs for a while with steam filling the room and clouding the mirror. I hop in with her, noticing her skin looks red-raw with a few bruises.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.” I kiss her arm from when I gripped on tight.
“No, you’re not.” She laughs. “You loved every second
of it. It doesn’t hurt, I didn’t feel a thing. I’m completely numb right now except for down there . . . it kinda stings.”
I grab the soap and bend down, washing her softly and noticing how sensitive her skin is. She relaxes enough to hold onto my shoulder, and when I finish, I kiss her lips.
“It’s going to be awkward at breakfast.”
“Maybe we should tell them,” I say with a straight face.
“Tell them what? That we’re fucking? Oh, that’s going to go down real nice.”
“Why not?” I joke lightly.
“Because they think we hate each other.”
“Okay,” I challenge her, “then we’ll pretend to hate each other. Besides, the best sex is hate sex, right?”
She smirks, throwing a towel my way. “Game on, Carrington.”
“Dad, you look like shit,” Emmy tells Chris while scarfing down her breakfast even though she complained her jaw hurt from all the deep-throating.
“I’m not twenty-one anymore.” He grimaces at the rare sun gracing us this morning. “God, I don’t remember how much your head could hurt after a big night.”
Abbi sits quiet at her chair, sporting oversized glasses and a hat.
“Mom? What about you?”
She raises her finger motioning Emmy to be quiet.
“I think Mom and Dad partied too hard,” Ash chuckles, unaffected by his beer consumption last night. “Where did you end up, Emmy?”
She shuffles nervously, crossing her legs. “I just got a room. I was exhausted from the day out plus I didn’t want to travel back this morning.”
“But isn’t your hotel like ten minutes away?” I put her on the spot, watching her expression change to annoyance.
“Ten minutes in distance is doubled in London traffic.”
“But there’s no traffic,” I point out. “Just seems odd that you’d stay in this hotel.”
“I think it’s odd you’re a jerk,” she argues back.
“Kids, keep it down please. My ears hurt,” Abbi complains.
We end the conversation and eat breakfast quietly, watching a re-run of the game on the screen. Seeing Ash score that final goal brings back joyous memories of that moment. He fucking nailed it.
“Has anyone seen Poppy?” Emmy asks. “We kind of went our separate ways at the pub and the last time I saw her, she was telling jokes at your table, Ash.”
Ash bows his head, studying his plate before his eyes look up at me. He fucked her. The look of guilt, I had seen it several times before. I could tell by the way he looked at me, warning me to not say anything out loud. Jesus, I knew his fight with Alessandra got to him but I didn’t expect this to happen.
“I think I saw her leave the pub,” he says blasé.
Emmy wipes her mouth with the napkin, leaning back on her chair. “I should probably call her. Just to make sure.”
“You know what?” Ash interrupts, slightly panicked. “She’s a big girl. I’m sure she got back okay.”
“When did you leave the pub?” Ash switches the subject onto me. Fucking dick.
“Don’t remember. Was exhausted so it was kinda a blur.”
“Sorry Mom and Dad,” Ash warns them before turning back to me. “You picked someone up, didn’t you? Was it that blonde with the low-cut tank and short mini that asked where you were staying?”
“Which blonde?” I screw my face up, pretending to be interested.
“Oh yeah,” Emmy adds with much delight. She pushes her tongue against her cheek, watching me with a wide smirk. “The blonde that offered you her room key. She said she was kinky and wanted to tie you up. Sorry Mom and Dad.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You soooo got laid,” Emmy teases. “She would have tired your little socks off.”
Ash laughs, stealing the last sausage off the plate. “Good. You need a good screw after your dry hump. Especially after your breakup with Louisa.”
He continues to laugh at the same time that Emmy’s face changes. It’s a look of curiosity, and something else I can’t figure out.
“Who’s Louisa?” Emmy questions, clearing her throat.
“Remember I told you about her?” Abbi intervenes. “The love of Logan’s life.”
I’m about to stop that statement until Ash interrupts. “You were about to marry her. Did I tell you I ran into her last week? I don’t know why I forgot to tell you. She broke up with what’s-his-face and asked about you.”
If that had happened three months ago, I would have gladly called her and picked things up from where we left it. But I sat here, unaffected by what he told me and more worried by Emmy’s quiet reaction. I hated the fact that I couldn’t read her; a blank expression on her face.
“Honestly, bro. She was great,” Ash continues. “Yeah, I know I disliked her but you were happy with her. Looking back now, I’d never seen you happy with anyone besides her.”
“Second chances don’t come often,” Abbi says, placing her arm on mine.
“Abbi, leave the boy alone. He has time to worry about a relationship later. The next four weeks is training and games and I don’t want anyone distracting him,” Chris says sharply.
Emerson refuses to look my way, removing the napkin from her lap. “I’m going to head back to the hotel, we have one final shoot today and then we fly out tomorrow.”
Abbi and Chris stand up, hugging her before she turns to congratulate Ash then waves across the table to me—without any eye contact—and says congratulations.
Moving her chair into the table, she turns around and hurries out of the restaurant.
I think on my feet about an excuse to use, then tell them I accidently handed her my credit card last night to buy drinks and needed to get it off her. I chase her down the street before she hops into a cab.
“What was that back there?” I say out of breath.
“I’m tired.”
“You’re not getting off that easily.”
She motions her eyes across the street where a man stands with a camera taking photos of us. I smile, pretending everything is okay then grit through my teeth asking again.
“I don’t know, Logan. Try sitting at a table hearing about the woman that is the love of your life suddenly wanting you back.”
“C’mon.” I brush it off like it’s nothing because it was nothing. “Are you seriously believing what Ash said?”
“Why would he lie, huh?” She laughs to herself. “Why would Ash make that stuff up? You know what, don’t even answer.”
“Emerson, c’mon.” I beg her to stop.
“No, Logan. You’ve got the love of your life waiting for you. Better go find her.”
The window winds up and the cab drives away, leaving me standing alone on the sidewalk. The paparazzi run across the road, dodging traffic and almost getting run over by a bus. They demand me to answer their impromptu questions, and I answer only to distract myself.
“How did it feel to win last night?”
“Is it true that Real Madrid offered you a position next season?”
“Are you and Emerson Chase an item?”
The last question struck a nerve. People were onto us. I could have exposed our relationship, come out to the world and tell everyone how I felt about her.
But that would damage us more than it would bring good.
“She’s engaged to Wesley Chase. She’s like my sister.”
I pretend it didn’t hurt, and that the anger didn’t consume me, walking back to the restaurant where I’m forced to pretend Emerson Chase meant nothing me.
When in reality—I was in love with her.
“Another woman may have caught your eye, but ultimately, the heart is what matters the most.”
~ Emerson Chase.
Wes packs his final suitcase, zipping it up and placing it near the door.
I sit at the dining table, crunching numbers and emailing our lawyer about the contracts we signed for the fitness line launching in Europe. It was te
dious work and something I had been putting off. I also busied myself looking at other properties to purchase to build my portfolio—branching away from Wesley. There’s a pot of coffee beside me; cold and stale from when I made it earlier this morning.
“You know where to reach me.”
“I have your number,” I remind him, staring at this impossible equation on my screen.
“Will you be okay by yourself?”
I can hear the worry in his voice. This isn’t the first time he had gone away for the weekend but after what happened in London, he had been extra protective watching my every move. He even made Jimmy—our bodyguard—follow me around town.
The stalker had been arrested but nothing else could be done. He hadn’t breached any laws and the guy just needed a visit to the looney bin to regroup. Nina held bits of information from me not to stress me out.
“I’ll be fine. Tayla flies in tomorrow morning so we’re gonna hang out.”
“You never told me Tayla would be in town.”
I sigh, shutting the lid of my laptop to give him attention.
“Mom was supposed to come but had something last minute pop up so she sent Tayla instead. I didn’t tell you because I figured you didn’t care.”
“I care, Emerson.” He moves closer to me, resting his hand on my cheek.
Without hurting his feelings, I turn my face away allowing him to pull back. Since we got back from London last week, our schedules had been busy with no time to unwind. We had two more shows to film before final edits. We did a round of interviews, appeared as guests on talk shows, and had meetings with our business partners. Each night I came home utterly exhausted, fitting in small workouts here and there then crashing as soon as I hit the pillow.
It left little time to think about Logan and how we left things off despite the thousands of texts he would send each day which I continued to ignore.
“I should go.”
“Have fun.”
“Do you really mean that?” he asks in a civil tone, a small smile appearing on his tired face.
“I do.” I offer a small smile in return, hoping to reconcile our constant fighting. “We’ll get through this, okay? Just have fun with the boys.”