by Dakota Lee
My email pings with her latest draft and I pretend to read through it, resisting the urge to look up when I feel her eyes on me. The silence stretches between us as she swivels her chair back and forth. She’s restless. Good. That’ll make her more likely to go along with my suggestion. Not that I’m actually giving her a choice.
I resize the document and place it on the lefthand column of the page, then save the file to my thumb drive. Grabbing my coat from the back of my chair, and my phone off the desk, I say, “Let’s go.”
I pretend not to see the confusion on her face. “Jordy, we’re running out of time. Come on.” I slip her book bag over my shoulder and walk out the door. I’m already heading towards the stairs when she scrambles after me, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her coat.
“Logan, where the hell do you think you’re going with my bag?” She asks catching up to me outside.
I hold the car door open, waiting for her to get in. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She says, taking a step backwards.
“Jordanna, when I gave you the extension, I forgot the printer was closing early today. We’ll miss our run time if I don’t get this file in their hands within the hour, and they won’t take it by email.”
“Why not? They usually do.”
“Yes, but it goes into a queue. And we’ve missed the electronic submission window. If we’re gonna get the paper out on Monday, I have to deliver it in person.”
“Okay, but why do I have to go on this little field trip?”
“One, it’s your article that has us late.”
“You gave me the extension.”
“Two, I thought you’d like to see where the printer is, in case I ever need you to drop a file off.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Jordy, you. We both know you’d be the next likely candidate for editor, if I quit, or get fired.”
“I don’t see that happening.”
“Neither do I, but it’s good to have a backup and the truth is, until you started working for The Guild, I didn’t have anyone else at the paper that I trusted to do this. So, it’s been me and Mrs. Morgan.”
I drum my fingers on the roof of the car. “Are you coming or not?”
She slides into the passenger seat and I push the door closed. I knew that inquisitive streak wouldn’t let her give up the chance to learn something new about the paper. I meant what I said about her being the next likely candidate for my job. Last semester she said pretty much the same thing.
* * *
We do the twenty-five minute drive to the printers in silence. Jordanna fidgets for the first five minutes, before relaxing against the heated seats. The first flurries start when we’re ten minutes from our destination. It’s a light snow, so it doesn’t stick to the road.
Our quick drop off turns into an hour-long process because I insist on watching the printer run the first press, so I can review the print. We make a few tweaks, then I give the final approval, thank him, and usher Jordy out the door.
The snow has gotten heavier and the weather colder. “Shit, let’s get back to campus before this gets worse.” I say, pulling out of the parking lot.
We get stuck in rush hour traffic. Visibility has dropped and I’m driving slower than a kid on a bicycle. It takes us forty minutes to drive ten miles.
When I pull off the road and take a back street, Jordanna, who's been clutching her seatbelt, turns her head at an odd angle to look at me. “Why are you getting off the highway?”
“Did you see that clusterfuck of cars? Probably not, because visibility is too shitty to see anything. My studio’s close by. I think it’s safer to pull off and wait there until the snow lets up.”
She gnaws on her bottom lip, furrowing her brows, before turning her head to look back out the window. She finally sighs and nods in agreement. “Fine. Just until the snow lets up.”
While I’m waiting at a light, I hit send on my phone, placing our usual order from the Chinese restaurant. It should get to my studio shortly after we do. Jordanna thinks she’ll be hanging out for a few hours, but she’s not going anywhere tonight.
Jordanna
When Logan mentioned waiting the storm out at his studio, my first thought was to argue we could still make it back to campus. But, then I thought, why not embrace this moment for what it is. An opportunity to play with him and test his resolve.
There’s several inches of snow on the sidewalk by the time we pull into a parking space down the street from his building. My shoes sink into the fluffy powder. Moisture seeps through my boots wetting my toes in a manner of seconds, and the wind whips around my ears, causing me to shiver.
I shuffle my feet back and forth, waiting for Logan to open the door. The blast of air follows us inside and I stomp my feet, trying to shake off the excess snow and water, rubbing my hands together. Logan takes my hands in his and blows. His warm breath filtering feeling into my fingers, as he gently massages them, before pressing them to his lips and sucking my index finger into his mouth.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to pull my hand away.
“Making sure your hands aren’t suffering from cold weather injuries.”
“My hands are fine.”
“They feel like popsicles, stop fidgeting and let me warm them up.”
He continues to blow, kiss and suck on each digit until the warmth spreads from my hands to my arms and down a little lower. The elevator finally arrives, and he ushers me inside. I thought he was done with my hands, but I was wrong. He takes them, slipping them inside his now opened jacket, and underneath his sweater.
“Logan.”
“Body heat helps. You know this, so stop fighting me.”
“It helps if we’re in danger of freezing to death or I have hypothermia. Neither applies here. It’s winter. A season I’ve experienced plenty of times before.”
“Then why don’t you have gloves?”
“I do. I left them in Noel’s car.”
He’s holding my hands in place so I can’t pull away and I feel his abs contract under my fingers. The elevator comes to a stop, and he has no choice but to back away so one of us can lift the gate. For a moment I think he won’t, but finally he releases me, waiting for me to step into the hall first.
There’s an uneasiness in the air. My heart pounds in my chest, my mind telling me to run back towards the elevator or to use the emergency exit. Anything other than walking into Logan’s lair. Because even though he didn’t say anything, I could see the change come over his face when I mentioned why I didn’t have gloves to wear.
Last semester, I never thought of Logan as being someone who could hurt me. Not physically, but that was before I saw him that night at The Rift. The look in his eyes as he stroked himself and the way he spoke to that girl, like she was a thing to use and discard. That’s the look that was on his face seconds ago.
He unlocks the door, and for the slightest second I hesitate, before telling myself it’ll be fine and that I’m imagining things. Crossing the threshold I force myself not to jump when the door closes with a soft click. “I’m gonna ask you one question, and I want a straight answer. Did you fuck Noel on your little trip?”
Turning to face him, I shrug out of my coat, a smartass comment at the ready on my lips. That murderous look is still there. Oh shit.
Logan takes my coat from me, places it on the hook next to his, and advances towards me, lifting his sweater over his head. His t-shirt comes off next. “Logan.” I say taking a step back.
“I’m waiting for an answer.”
“Why are you stripping?”
“Because it’s my studio, and the heat works. Why are you avoiding my question?” He toes off his boots. Why? Because it’s none of his business. That’s what I want to say, but my mouth refuses to listen to the signals coming from my brain. His belt clanks open, and his jeans settle low on his hips.
“Last time I’m gonna ask, Jordanna. Did you give Noel something that wasn’t yours to give?”
/> That misplaced sense of ownership unlocks my tongue. “It’s my pussy, I can pass it out like party favors if I want to.”
Why did I say that? This time my fight-or-flight response kicks in, and I try to dart past him to get to the door. He jumps in my path, snatching me by the back of my shirt, hauling me against his chest.
“I was gonna take it easy on you.” He growls against my ear. “Now I’m glad you wanted to do this the hard way, because I’m gonna have fun breaking you.”
“If you think I’m gonna let you fuck me, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“Who said anything about fucking?”
He picks me up, carrying me over to the bed and drops me in the center of it. I bounce once and scramble to my knees, trying to crawl over to the side. He grabs my ankle, dragging me back into place. A pair of silk ropes seem to appear out of thin air. “Get your hoe props off of me.” I screech as he slips the knot over my wrist.
“You wanna act like a hoe, you win hoe prizes.”
“Did you just call me a hoe?”
“Did you fuck, Noel?”
My chin juts out. I’m not answering on principle.
“Stubborn as ever.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine, but I refuse to kiss him back. I realize he’s removed my boots and socks when cool air hits the bottom of my feet. His thumb digs into the arch of my foot, as his fingers close over my toes. The massage feels heavenly and I moan into his mouth, realizing too late, the game he was playing. The moment I do, his tongue invades my mouth, tasting and teasing me. Stealing my breath. Hunting for whatever else he can take.
My feet are tingling. The warmth of his hand moves up to my chest. He pushes my sweater up over the swell of my breasts and yanks my bra down. The pull and twist of my nipples, send shockwaves of pain and pleasure, straight to my core. And still he kisses me. I press my legs together seeking friction. His leg hooks around mine keeping my them apart. My hips lift off the bed when he finally releases me from his kiss only to latch onto my hardened nipple, pulling it deep into his mouth.
He alternates between his mouth and his hand, going from one nipple to the other. My skin is hot, my breath’s uneven, as he continues the torture all while ignoring the aching spot between my legs.
With my hands secured to the bedpost behind me, I’m unable to touch myself, and Logan avoids my lower half. Still, I rock my hips against the air.
“Mmm. What’s wrong, baby? You need something, more?”
I whimper, closing my eyes, imaging that I can feel pressure.
“Too bad you didn’t want to play nice. I could be slipping inside you right now.”
I said I wouldn’t let him fuck me, now he’s trying to make me regret that decision. But I don’t. Last year he took everything from me, and it feels good to be in control. Though present circumstances may suggest I’m not.
He returns to his game of kissing me and playing with my nipples. His hands never travel lower than my stomach. I close my eyes to the onslaught of sensations as I struggle against my binds.
He’s got me at his mercy, but not for long. This time when he kisses me, I relax into it. Kissing him back. Tasting him. When we break apart, I slide my tongue up his neck, capturing his ear in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the shell of his ear. Moving back down, I feast on his neck, kissing and sucking. The whole time he’s playing with my tits. I lean my head back, groaning when his teeth scrape across my sensitive peak.
“Did you fuck him?”
I still refuse to answer, knowing it’s torturing him, the way he’s trying to torture me. I meet his eyes, biting my lower lip before closing my eyes, letting my imagination take over. He snatches my pants off my legs, discarding them next to the bed.
The cool air sends my senses into overdrive. I press my drenched pussy against the mattress, when he flips me onto my stomach, shivering from finally having something against it.
“No, you don’t.” He says, pulling my hips away from the bed. “You won’t be coming until you answer me.”
“You wanna bet?” I hiss.
In this position, I pretend he’s behind me, fucking me, and I rock my hips back and forth. “Jordy…”
I ignore the bite of his voice and close my eyes, imagining that I’m being pounded from behind. His hand cracks across my ass, causing my eyes to fly open. He does it again, the force of it making my hips lurch forward. His other hand anchors me in place.
“I told you this is my pussy.” Whack. “That no one else will ever touch it.” Whack. “And you refuse to tell me if you defied me.” Whack, whack. “Now answer me.”
I laugh. I’m not sure how I manage it, but I do, which only seems to set him off even more. I’m playing with the devil, and in the back of my mind, I know I’m about to get burned. He wrenches my panties to the side, the pressure from the front panel digs against my clit.
“You’re so wet.” He groans, sliding the head of his cock up and down my folds. Just a little more, and he’ll give me what I want. His hand fists my hair as he leans over, growling against my ear, “Why do you keep fucking pushing me, Jordy? Just tell me.”
The way he’s shaking against me, I know he’s barely controlling the beast that lies below the surface. Self preservation should kick in, but that’s what the old me would do. I need to push him. It’s the only way to get to the real him. So instead of letting him calm down, I say the words that will probably push him over the edge. “None of your business.”
The buzzer rings before he can respond. Over my shoulder, I see him wrestling with the decision to ignore or answer it. He backs away from me on his knees before shifting his weight and slipping over the side of the bed, pulling his pants up as he walks towards the door.
The person on the other end mentions something about a delivery and now I’m left with a moment of self reflection. Should I be crying tears of frustration that we were interrupted or saying a prayer of thanks?
* * *
Logan sits the bags on the counter in the kitchen area, and gets the tv trays from the corner of the room, before untying me. I climb off the bed, grab my pants off the floor, heading towards the bathroom to clean up before settling in to eat. I should probably run through a cold shower to take the last of this edge off. God knows I won’t feel it, since the temperature in the room dropped to sub-zero temperatures once Logan left the bed.
I almost had him. I just needed a little more time. When did he have time to order food, anyway? Was I that out of it that I missed him phoning in a delivery? No, I wasn’t. So either he already had it scheduled to be delivered today, or he did it before we got here. I’m betting on the latter. In fact, the more I think about it, the less sense it makes that Logan would have forgotten the printer was closing early today, or that there was a chance for snow.
The bastard set me up. He wanted me stranded here. Probably to interrogate me about Noel. My sex life is none of his business. But he should also know me better than that. I’m not playing musical beds like him and his friends.
I finish in the bathroom, drying my hands on the towel hanging from the wall. It’s from a set I picked out when I was spending a lot of time here. Looking in the medicine cabinet, I see my bottle of ibuprofen is still in there, and underneath the sink is my favorite bath soap and shampoo.
Why the hell would he keep these? Is he just that callous that he doesn’t care if the women he brings here sees this shit? Or is it here in a community use setting? I fight the urge to dump it all in the trash. I return to the living room my mind swirling with a way to get the upper hand.
We manage to have a civil conversation through dinner. He tells me about working for the lifestyle section at Wilmington Kurt for the winter, and attending cocktail parties with his father. Some of the party stories are funny but overall I can tell he felt like the whole experience was a chore.
“You don’t get how lucky you are to spend time with influential people. To have a father who wants to and gets to be around for important moments in your life.
Why are you talking about those parties and events like they were punishments?”
“Maybe, because they were.”
I stop chewing, waiting for him to clarify.
“I know you think I got out of this unscathed, Jordy. But I didn’t.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. My dad knows I hate attending pretentious social functions, which is why he made me go. And, I had to agree to a few more meals at his country club to get him off my back.”
“Anybody calling you a slut? Or accusing you of screwing the dean? How about making you the target of a sick game and vowing to get you booted from school, and you do not know why? No? So just me, then?”
Suddenly I’ve lost my appetite. I jump up, throwing the rest of my plate in the trash. “I’m ready to head back to school now. Are you gonna give me a ride or what?”
He shakes his head, turning his phone to face me. “The roads are shut down. We’re here for the night.”
“I don’t want to spend the night with you.”
“Too bad, it’s happening.”
“If you won’t take me, I’ll call-”
He flies out of his chair, stalking towards me. “If the next word out of your mouth is his name…”
“You’ll what?”
He scrubs a hand through his hair and huffs, “Dammit Jordy, I don’t wanna keep fighting with you.”
He crosses over to scoop up his empty plate, dumping it in the trash and putting the leftovers away, then goes to his workbench smashing his fist into a lump of clay. I take my journal out of my bag and climb onto the bed to write. My hand is cramping by the time I’m finished. I return the book to my bag, then lay back on the pillow, feeling drained. I roll over on my side, drifting off to sleep.