by Hazel Jacobs
“Go on up,” Logan says to Dash. “Mikayla will organize a room for me.”
Slate and Tommy have already disappeared with a girl each. The girls were together and had asked that the guys not separate them. Slate had been completely up for that and, after some thought, Tommy was up for it as well.
“I thought you said Tommy isn’t into ménage?” Mikayla asked Logan as she watched the four of them disappear in the elevator together.
“There’s a significant difference between four dudes and one girl, and two dudes and two girls,” Logan had replied. He gave her a significant look, and she had felt herself blush.
Dash disappears with the girl who’d attracted his attention—a stunningly beautiful woman named Emily, who plays the drums and loves Supergirl. She and Mikayla had a long conversation about the latest season in the green room while they’d been waiting for the band to finish their last set. Now, Mikayla sends a silent prayer of thanks to the girl. Once the elevator doors close, she and Logan turn away from the concierge’s desk and head upstairs themselves.
It is difficult to keep their hands to themselves as they ride up the elevator. Logan jokingly asks Mikayla if she wants to see if they have a spa. She gives him a withering look that makes him laugh.
When they get to Mikayla’s room, she expects him to be all over her. But he isn’t. Instead, after she’s closed and locked the door, he pulls her away from it until she’s standing in the center of the room right next to the bed.
And then he kisses her. And she feels as though a puzzle piece has been slotted into place. As though she’d come home from a long day at work, which she supposed was partly true. She wraps her arms around his neck and allows herself to really feel what he’s doing. To revel in the kiss which she has been waiting for since London.
He runs his hands over her, apparently intent on taking his time with this.
“Condoms?” she mutters against his lips.
Logan kicks his bag, which is sitting on the floor next to his feet. “Got a whole box,” he replies.
“Sounds like a challenge.”
“I love a challenge.”
He keeps kissing her, moving down her neck to her breasts, and then back up to her chin and cheeks, mapping every inch of skin he can reach. Mikayla thinks that she could happily spend the rest of her life like this, in the arms of a man that she—oh, but that is a bad road to go down. She presses herself closer to silence her mind.
“Take this off,” she says, tugging on the edge of his shirt.
Logan presses her closer to the bed, allowing her to sit on the edge of the mattress before giving her what could only be described as a smug smile before he pulls his shirt off. He slowly undoes his zipper and removes his jeans as well. She watches with interest as his bulged boxers are revealed. He steps closer to her without taking them off, slowly unbuttoning Mikayla’s blouse and swatting her hands away when she tries to help him.
Well, she thinks as she leans back and grins at him. If Logan wants to do all the work, who am I to stop him?
He undresses her slowly, savoring the motions of unwrapping her like a gift. When she’s in her bra and panties—plain white again, because she’s not any good at picking lingerie and planning for sex—she figures he’s already seen her in the boring stuff anyway. He looks at her like he wants to devour her, and she feels a tremble run through her at the sight of his eyes darkening with lust.
“Lay back,” he says.
She eagerly complies, resting against the pillows and letting her legs fall apart naturally, knowing what he plans to do and feeling herself getting wet at the thought of it.
Logan starts by rubbing the outside of her panties, leaning up to kiss her neck. No marks there, but she knows that once he gets into it, there’ll be marks everywhere. The ones he left in London still linger, and he dips down to kiss them as well as he rubs her. Mikayla’s breathing comes in a smooth, even rhythm. She can feel an orgasm rushing toward her through that stimulus alone. All of the anticipation, all of the want, has left her ready at a moment’s notice. A little harder, a little faster, and she’ll be there.
“Logan,” she gasps. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
He growls as his fingers speed up, rubbing her in a tight circle which has her panting and whining. She bucks her hips in a jerking motion.
And then he’s gone. He’s looking down at her with a shit-eating grin that makes her instantly worried.
“Oh, you mean like you left me hanging?” he asks.
Mikayla groans and falls into the pillow. She’d been hoping that he had forgotten about that. Rather than leave herself to his cruel intentions, Mikayla’s hand drifts between her legs, ready to finish herself off. He catches her hands.
“Do I have to tie you up?” he asks.
She feels a shot of lust run straight to her clit. She doesn’t answer for a long beat, and Logan’s grin goes wider.
“Do you want me to?” he asks.
She wants to say ‘yes.’ And ‘no.’ She wants him to get on with it, and she knows that he’ll probably make her wait because apparently, they’re both evil. But if she’s tied up, she won’t even be able to try and take control later on. She shakes her head, reaching up and wrapping her hands around the long rails of the headboard, hoping for a compromise.
Logan seems to like that. He grins and drops his head down to bite at her pelvic bone. She groans as his teeth sink in.
He keeps rubbing her through her panties, pulling back when her hips start to buck and enduring the stream of swearwords that inevitably flows out of her mouth when he does. Logan’s penis strains against his boxers, so he’s clearly enjoying this as much as she is, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to put either of them out of their misery.
Eventually, he pulls off her bra. She has to release the headboard to let him do that, but he guides her hands back when he’s done, and takes a nipple in his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue until she’s almost incoherent.
Pure arousal runs through her. She knows that her panties are soaked with it, her clit is aching with need, and her whole body is poised on the edge of orgasm, ready to fall over. It takes every ounce of self-control she has to hold onto the headboard and let him keep teasing her.
“What exactly are you waiting for?” she demands.
He grins at her. “Begging might move things along.”
“Oh my God, you’re an asshole!” she says. He doesn’t answer, kissing the bottom of her breast and drawing a hickey there. She mutters begrudgingly, “Please.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Please… you fucker!”
He throws his head back and laughs. Then he pulls her panties down and strips off his own boxers, reaching over the edge of the mattress and grabbing the promised box of condoms. He snaps one on and hovers over her, looking her in the eye and pressing the tip of his penis against her clit until she starts whining and trying to maneuver her hips to take him in.
“Please, Logan.”
He presses into her, driving himself deep with one thrust.
“Fuck yes!”
Logan moves down to kiss her fiercely, reaching down to bring her leg over his elbow so that her legs are pulled wide and their bodies collide together. She lets out a low moan as he sets a brutal pace, pushing her down into the mattress with the force of his thrusts.
Mikayla tries to grip his shoulders and move her hips to meet him, but the pleasure and the energy is so intense that after a few moments she can only lay back, holding on for the ride while he pounds her into the mattress. Her legs burn with the effort, but it’s nothing compared to the slow-burning ache in her clit. She widens her legs, even more, hooking her free leg over Logan’s hip, feeling his hot, gasping breaths in her ear. Mikayla manages to create a new angle that allows him to pound her G-spot.
Logan reaches down between them to rub her clit. She bites his shoulder to muffle her scream as her orgasm hits her like a truck. Mikayla had always believed that vigoro
us sex would be painful for whoever is on the receiving end, but there’s no pain. Just a hot, throbbing need as she spasms from her orgasm, which lasts longer because he keeps going. Thrusting and pushing and rubbing so that her pleasure is doubled, her muscles convulsing, every inch of her electrified.
“Amazing,” Logan says into her ear. “You’re amazing, Mikayla. Want you so much.”
She can’t speak. She can barely think. She couldn’t even tell him her name at that point.
Logan pulls out and before she can even take a second to breathe, he flips her onto her front and runs his hands over her back and inner thighs before pulling her still-trembling legs open. Mikayla dimly wonders if he’s trying anal. She gets ready to protest, but he slips his arms around her waist and pulls her against his chest, his throbbing penis pressing against the edge of her vagina again.
She groans when he runs through her hair, pulling it so that her head is craning back in a way which is surprisingly hot. She pushes backward, unwilling to let him tease her even though she’s still reeling from the first orgasm. She takes him in before he can move and she feels his gasp in her ear.
“Come on, Logan,” she mutters.
Logan groans when she leans forward to rest her head on her forearms, allowing him to set the pace again. He starts kissing down the back of her neck before biting into her shoulder blades as he thrusts hard, pushing Mikayla forward so that she has to take hold of the headboard again to avoid injury. She feels so full and good that she wonders how she’s ever lived without this.
She’s still coming down, but Mikayla can already feel a second orgasm building, the tell-tale pressure settling in her lower belly and clit. There’s no sound in the room but the sounds of their harsh, gasping breaths, and the wet slapping of skin on skin. Mikayla’s moans and Logan’s grunts mingle with the other sounds. It’s like music, a song she could sing again and again as long as Logan is singing it with her.
Logan reaches around with one hand to fondle her clit, pulling on her hair and craning her head back so that he can whisper in her ear, “Come on Mikayla. Let go.”
And she does. His voice is heavy and strained, and she can hear the tenuous control he has over himself. He’s waiting for her. Holding back, for her. The sound breaks the last of her self-control and she spirals into a second, intense orgasm. She buries her face in her pillow so that her scream is muffled.
Still quaking, Mikayla feels Logan release her hair and clutch her hips with both hands. She leans forward, expecting to have him ride out his own orgasm, but he pulls out, turns her around again, and presses her into the bed.
He pushes into her again, more gently this time, and kisses her with a tenderness that takes her breath away. She feels him groan, low and desperate. He thrusts into her with aching slowness. She clutches his face in her hands, kissing him back with everything she has as he pushes in and out. His hips buck and his breath hitches—signaling his orgasm—but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. He keeps going with gentle, deliberate thrusts until he finally peters off and breaks the kiss.
She looks up into Logan’s eyes. Their chests are heaving with the force of their exercise, and there’s a thin layer of sweat between them. Mikayla’s vagina is throbbing from the brutal thrusts from earlier, but in that moment everything is still. There’s just Mikayla and Logan and their eyes meeting in the middle. His brown irises with gold lines through them, looking down at her as though he can see into her heart.
“I didn’t know I could do the splits,” she says.
Logan laughs, pressing his face into her neck and letting his shoulders shake with it. He pulls her into a hug and rolls over, pulling out of her and arranging her so that they are wrapped around each other.
“Goddam, Mikayla Strong, I can’t believe I lived this long without you.”
When they reached Washington, it all fell apart.
Mikayla and Logan went on in secret, meeting when they could. Every time they came together, it was intense and passionate, and Mikayla began to think that no man would ever compare to Logan. The way he made her feel—as though she were something beautiful and precious, as though she were everything he could ever want and more—took her breath away.
And then they would be in public, and he would ignore her. Or send her lingering glances before turning away prior to someone noticing. Or glaring at Tommy, Dash, and Slate when they sat next to her. The more they went on, the more she began to feel like Logan’s dirty little secret. When she wasn’t basking in the afterglow of another brilliant love-making session, she was walking on eggshells wondering if he would fire her for messing up the schedules or getting an interview wrong. In her worst moods, Mikayla wondered if he would fire her just to keep their affair from going public.
She could have handled his hot and cold moods if they hadn’t been part of a massive deception—a deception which forced her to lie to the rest of the band. At night, when she wasn’t curled up in Logan’s arms, her mind would conjure images of Black Lilith’s members, rearranging their features into what she thought they would look like if confronted with what Mikayla and Logan were doing.
One night, after a long day of interviews, the band and Mikayla get together in Dash and Logan’s room and order room service. The room is easily big enough for all five of them, though Mikayla finds herself pressed up against Slate on Dash’s bed.
“Let’s play a game!” Slate says, clapping his hands together. “Never Have I Ever.”
The other band members groan.
“Slate, we’ve played that game a million times. We all know everything about each other.”
“Mik doesn’t. Besides, I want to know all of the juicy details she’s been hiding.”
“What makes you think I’ve been hiding something?” Mikayla asks a note quivering in her voice.
Slate shrugs and gives her a shark-like grin. “You’re too buttoned up, my dear. Women like you always have secrets.”
You have no idea, she thought about saying.
Logan pours them all shots of beer, shooting a warning look to Mikayla as he does. ‘Don’t get too drunk,’ that look seems to be saying, ‘don’t tell them something we’ll regret.’ As if she could forget.
Tommy goes first.
“Never have I ever broken my leg trying and failing to rescue a cat from a tree.”
Dash takes a shot. “I didn’t fail. The cat came down.”
“Because you scared it off with your screaming,” Logan says.
Then it’s Dash’s turn. “Never have I ever done butt stuff,” he says.
“Giving or receiving?” Slate asks.
“Either.”
Slate takes the shot.
“If you really want to know—” he begins.
Mikayla cuts him off. “We really don’t,” she says.
A laugh rolls around the group. Mikayla feels light and giddy, almost like she’s a teenager again. She rolls herself into the blankets and settles in, watching the men of Black Lilith trying to get each other drunk, only taking shots herself when something applies to her.
“Never have I ever had a sister,” Logan says.
Slate, Dash, and Tommy all take a shot.
“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” she says, looking between Dash and Logan.
Logan is giving the others a confused look as well. “Tommy, you don’t have a sister!”
“Sure I do,” Tommy says, shrugging. He points at Mikayla. “She’s right there.”
And suddenly the tone in the room shifts dramatically. Mikayla goes from giddy and cheerful to overwhelmed. Maybe it’s the beer, or the knowledge that she’s been lying to them for weeks, but when Slate and Dash both nod along with Tommy she feels tears prickling at the corners of her eyes and a lump rise in her throat.
“Oh, hey… Mik, don’t cry!” Tommy says, leaning over Slate to pull her into a hug. Mikayla wraps her arms around his shoulders and buries her face in his neck, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Mikayla had not
spoken to her mother since the phone call that Logan had walked in on. She’s almost resigned herself to the fact that this may be something that she and her mother can’t come back from. That regardless of their blood ties, and how much Mikayla loves her mother, she can’t keep such a toxic presence in her life anymore. She’d thought that she would have to resign herself to being without a family.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” she says, sniffling and pulling away from Tommy. All of the men are looking at her with concern. Logan, in particular, seems to be physically restraining himself from jumping over the beds and pulling her into his arms.
But he won’t. Because they’re meant to be a secret.
She shakes her head and gives Tommy a watery smile. “Sorry, I’m on my period.”
That does it. The tone shifts again as Tommy, Slate and Dash all cover their ears, howling their disapproval. It seems that no matter how old men get, they still freak out at the thought of a shedding uterus. She could admit to using that to her advantage more than once in her adult life.
Later in the evening, when everyone has gone to bed, Logan finds Mikayla in her room.
“Dash thinks I’m at the pool,” he says, closing the door behind him. “Are you okay? I know you’re not on your period. Did your mom call again?”
Mikayla is in her robe. She showered when she’d returned to her room, letting the hot water run down her back as she rehearsed what she would say to Logan when she saw him next.
“Logan, I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she says. Her heart is pounding in her ears—speeding up when his shoulders tense and the muscles beneath his tattoos shift. She loves those tattoos. She’ll miss running her fingers over them.
“What do you mean?” he asks. His voice is low and even, but there’s a wobble on the end that makes Mikayla want to close her eyes and take it back.
She doesn’t. “I mean I don’t think I can keep lying to the others about us,” she says. “It’s just… I care about them. I hate lying to them.”