The Revenge Games Duet

by Kat T. Masen

  Something in the way his eyes bore into me, warns me again that Logan never plays fair. He always takes things to the next level. His hand slides down my back and over my ass. My dress is floating, and with one move, his palm is against my bare cheek after he scrunches my panties aside in his hand. It doesn’t help that my reflexes are slow. With my hands ready to push him away, the jolt of my body from his fingers brushing against the entrance of my pussy startles me—the moan barely at bay as he repeats the movement again.

  Is this happening?

  You’re dreaming...

  This is some sort of nightmare that you’ll wake up from soon... like now... or now... or now.

  Wake up!

  My mouth falls open, pressing against his ear from the pressure of him drawing our bodies close together. And just when I think my imagination has played wild and crazy tricks on me, his lips move to my collarbone, biting down on my skin.

  “Logan,” I whisper, strained and holding back the pain from his bite. “What are you doing?”

  Not answering my question, he buries his head in my neck and grips harder. I have no idea what’s going on and feel helpless because I’m unable to stop it.

  This is wrong.

  This is weird.

  Why am I not fighting back?

  His fingers dance around my entrance, and in one quick move, he shifts my panties to one side and they glide effortlessly inside causing me to suck a breath in and arch back while my body melts into him. His pace quickens and my blood begins to heat, my skin steaming in the cold water.

  My body begins to act on instinct, succumbing to the fire in my belly that’s rising slowly and clouding any rational thoughts. With small but quick moans, my arms wrap around his back tighter, desperate to avoid eye contact while he continues to slide in and out.

  The waves of the water allow my hips to sway freely, in sync with every thrust.

  My stomach begins to flutter—the fire is beyond control—and is followed by a swirl that builds up and makes my whole body react. I’m sensitive to every touch and movement. Biting down on the tip of his shoulder I lose control, my teeth digging into his skin as the ache mixed with fire ignites on every surface of my skin and barrels through me in one explosive orgasm.

  With my eyes closed, I ride the contractions that wrap around his finger and immerse myself in the pleasurable sensations that have overcome me. The rise and fall of my chest evens out, reality setting in as to what I’ve done.

  What we have done.

  I don’t have any words. I’m speechless. Incoherent.

  Basking in an intense orgasm from just one finger.

  The finger that belongs to the one man you vowed never to touch. And he vowed never to touch you.

  So now what?

  “I n-need to g-go,” I stutter nervously, embarrassed and looking for an escape.

  “Emmy,” he calls softly, gripping me tightly in his embrace.

  Squirming my way out of his grip, I muster every ounce of strength in my body and swim away as fast as I can, desperate to escape what’s just happened.

  The water becomes shallow as I stand to run away, but I’m completely soaked with water and one other thing.

  Guilt.

  Chapter Five

  “Reality is a cold hard bitch.”

  ~ Emerson Chase

  Bang. Bang.

  Thump. Thump.

  The vocals are loud, piercing my eardrums while my eyes stare directly at the ceiling. The sun is peeking through the blinds, reminding me of another beautiful spring day. With summer just around the corner, the air has become warmer removing that morning chill.

  It’s unusually warm this morning, my large bed socks becoming overbearingly hot. That, coupled with the constant pain in my head, leaves me frustrated and increasingly hostile.

  After all these years, Dad hasn’t changed one bit. He prides himself on being an early bird, the kind of person who wakes at 5:00 a.m., and has done more in the first two hours than I could achieve in one whole day.

  When we were kids, he would blast music through the house at 6:00 a.m. forcing us all up.

  Today’s no different.

  Mom used to complain, being a night owl like me. Yet, years of being married—to the most stubborn man ever—has her changing her ways. She hates to admit it, but she told me she gets more writing done first thing in the morning than she does at any other time of day.

  I have to admit I’ve changed over the years, finding myself waking up early to get in a run or hang out at the local coffee shop before the swarms of paparazzi find me.

  Great when you’re on the West Coast.

  The East Coast time difference totally kicks my butt.

  I love Bon Jovi. I aced Livin’ on a Prayer singing karaoke at pub crawls back in the college years. However, I don’t enjoy it when I’m nursing the biggest hangover, ever.

  Turning my body sideways, I snuggle on my side glancing at the pile of clothes I left on my bathroom floor.

  Wet clothes.

  From the lake.

  The lake where Logan...

  Don’t say it!

  You’ve forgotten all about it.

  Okay, I’m calling bullshit on myself. You haven’t forgotten about it. You slept. You slept because you cried yourself to sleep due to life being so fucked up and you have no clue what the hell happened last night.

  Wesley Rich cheated on your gullible ass—that’s what happened.

  And, you hate yourself for enjoying what Logan gave you.

  The soft pillow is perfect to bury my face into and try to block out the images that haunt me as last night replays over in my mind.

  I’m angry—livid. To the point where nothing makes sense.

  One could assume that my state of mind is bordering insanity, and I’m one step away from swatting the imaginary flies away from my face.

  Thinking about the moment I saw that image of Wesley and how terribly sick to the stomach I felt, and how all I could think about was every promise we made to each other and how easily he’d forgotten them.

  I bite on the pillow and let out a frustrated scream, knowing no one in the house can hear me with the loud music playing. The second I do, I regret it instantly as sharp pain ricochets straight through my temple causing me to wince and let out a muffled cry.

  I begin to open my eyes again—forced to face reality.

  My cell sits on top of my nightstand, dead and unable to turn on. Your own fault.

  Leaning over the side of the bed with great difficulty, I remove my iPad from my bag. Dragging it up and onto my lap, I shuffle into a sitting position and tap on my inbox to start reading an email.

  Emerson,

  I know you’re angry and not taking any calls. You know I don’t like to take sides, I work for both you and Wesley.

  But, he’s an idiot.

  I’ve negotiated a deal with a photographer, and have our lawyers drawing up contracts now. 2 mill and he’s gone. It’s our only way out of this.

  Talk when you’re back home.

  Cheers,

  Nina

  P.S. I spoke to Wesley this morning. He’s been trying to call you.

  The temptation to chuck my iPad across the room crossed my mind. But I’m done throwing my expensive electronics because of what he’s done.

  Two million dollars?

  Fuck! Money we worked hard for, down the fucking drain. I don’t even want to think about how that affects our investments, it’s the last thing on my mind right now.

  I can tell by Nina’s tone she hasn’t slept. Probably the biggest scandal to rock her portfolio since one of her clients impregnated some illegal immigrant who babysat his kids.

  My head falls back on the headboard. I have two choices here—one, l work with Nina and fix this fucking mess or two, bury my head in the sand like an ostrich.

  There were so many things to think about, but my head’s aching and my stomach begins to growl. To be honest, I’m surprised I even have an appetit
e given the amount of alcohol pumping through my bloodstream.

  I climb out of bed knowing there’s no way I can continue to sit here and do nothing. If I sneak downstairs now, I can possibly avoid Logan. I didn’t even ask where he, Ash, or Alessandra were staying because I was too caught up in my own mess to think about any of it. I assume they’re staying here and that thought makes me want to retreat back to bed.

  There’s no chance in hell I can look at Logan again. We can also kiss our friendship goodbye. Last night was many things, and regret is one of them.

  As I step into the bathroom, I strip down to nothing and stare at myself in the mirror. The reflection shows my pale skin, a few scratches on my leg from the random creature who attacked it. I run my fingers along my collarbone and notice a small bite mark on the top of my shoulder. The tips of my fingers run over the minor groove and my senses heighten. His teeth had bitten so hard it’s left a small, purplish mark against my pale skin.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on the throb between my legs which is persistent and ravenous. How did I let this happen? Was this a pity fuck? It wasn’t even a fuck, merely a finger fuck for God’s sake.

  Jesus! I got off on one finger.

  Opening my eyes quickly, I twist my body and turn the faucet allowing only cold water. I need to wash this away. The hurt, guilt, and desire for someone who should never ever be in my thoughts.

  Logan Carrington? What the fuck were you thinking!

  I linger in the cold shower blissfully unaware of my surroundings until I hear the lawnmower outside. Wow! Dad’s really pulling out all the stops. Quickly getting out, I dry myself and dress in my denim shorts and a white tank with a unicorn on the front. I purposely wear my bikini underneath, hoping to catch some rays later when everyone’s gone.

  When Logan is gone... that’s what you mean.

  My hair is wet and tangled, which I manage to brush and tie up into a bun. I had it cut recently to the length of my collarbone, something Wes hates because he loves long hair.

  Before I leave the bathroom, I pick up my damp and reeking of lake water clothes from last night. Throwing them into the basin, I run the water allowing the dress to soak before handwashing out the grime. Poor kitties. Their faces look sad and riddled with guilt.

  Taking a deep breath, I walk to the door and place my hand on the handle. I haven’t thought about what I’ll say if I see him. It’s only 7:05 a.m. and the boys train every morning for two hours. They won’t be home until eight. That gives me forty-five minutes to grab breakfast then find somewhere to hide. So much for not being an ostrich.

  I make my way to the kitchen. Only Mom is inside, sipping coffee and reading some book with a chick on the front titled Hooker.

  Great, nice reminder of your cheating fiancé.

  “Thinking of switching professions?” I tease, sitting on the stool facing her. When my ass touches the hard wood I’m quick to flinch, uncomfortable and sore.

  Don’t go there. Not in front of Mom.

  What if she can hear your thoughts? She will forever judge you for what you’ve allowed him to do.

  Mom places the book on the table, careful to keep her bookmark in place. She’s dressed in a light blue buttoned shirt and white tennis shorts, her hair is swept back into a tight ponytail. “Good morning.” She smiles, sliding the box of cereal my way and follows with a cup of black coffee just the way I like it. “You got home late last night. I’m guessing you crawled home considering the dark circles around your eyes?”

  I nod, lips pursed with my hands wrapped around the warm mug.

  “I see nothing much has changed with the three of you. Instead of staying out and sneaking in candy, you’ve swapped it for rounds of alcohol.”

  I nod again, choosing my words carefully. “Except, now we have a fourth member,” I say loosely.

  Mom’s eyes fall to her cup, and only now I notice she has dark circles too. They’re not as prominent as mine, but enough to notice she probably spent most of the night crying. I feel terrible for not being a better daughter and supporting her.

  “Mom, I’m guessing you didn’t have a great night either?”

  She shakes her head, lips pursed just like mine. Sometimes it’s like looking in the mirror. Even the way her hands wrap around the mug exactly the way mine do. To top it off, she enjoys a strong, black coffee much like myself.

  “Your only son comes home and tells you he’s married some girl after knowing her for around one minute. There goes your life-long dream of watching him get married, dressing up in some fancy suit and giving him away in front of family and friends. I don’t ask for much as a parent, Emmy, but promise me you won’t hide something that big from me.”

  “I won’t, Mom,” I reassure her, hiding the guilt that riddles me.

  What happened with Logan will never ever happen again, and as far as I’m concerned I wouldn’t class it as something big anyway. It’s a mere teeny tiny speck in our drama-filled lives.

  Her eyes begin to tear up, so I quickly offer to change the subject to something more light-hearted.

  “So, tell me, what’s your latest book about?”

  The expression on her face immediately changes. When Mom’s asked about her writing or books, you can see the passion light up her face.

  “It’s a messy love square. I know I might get some backlash from readers, but I can’t help but adore a good love square. Triangles are so done.”

  “Fun to read not fun to be in.” I smile.

  Mom begins to open her mouth when the back door bangs against the wall and the sound of Ash and Logan filter through the kitchen. I look up at the clock on the wall, it’s 7:30 a.m.

  No!

  There’s no time to escape.

  So I stare at my bowl of cereal nervously swirling the Froot Loops around the bowl and dunking them in the milk.

  “If it isn’t my overly opinionated sister. Ready to apologize yet?”

  Thirty minutes ago, I was all about grabbing life by the balls. But when the guy who you’ve practically known your whole life—and is considered as family—is standing in the same room boring his eyes into you because he made you cum, those balls have shriveled up and climbed into your asshole for shelter.

  “Of course, not. Stubborn as usual.” Ash laughs, grabbing a slice of bread and shoving it in his mouth with nothing on it.

  My eyes are heavy, refusing to make eye contact. I raise them slowly hopeful Logan’s not looking my way. As every inch of my gaze passes, my stare traces over his muscular body, analyzing it like I’ve never seen it before. By the time our eyes meet, his wicked smirk irks me as I shift my gaze once again.

  Asshole.

  “Geez Emmy, you can’t even look at me. Yeah, I get it. I got married and didn’t tell you. Would you just give Sandy a chance?”

  “Sandy?” I throw at him in amusement. “You nicknamed her Sandy? That’s so crass. Who are you? Danny Zuko?”

  “Who the hell is Danny Zuko?”

  I roll my eyes at my brother. Thank God stupidity isn’t contagious.

  “Sounds like quite a night,” Mom interrupts. “How about we slow down on the drinking?”

  “We were celebrating,” Ash claims. “At least, until Emmy ran off like a child and Logan had to save her. What the fuck were you thinking jumping into that lake? Have you not heard of all the shit lurking in those waters? Jesus Christ, Emmy!”

  I swallow the giant lump in my throat. There’s no way Logan would have told Ash anything despite them being best friends. If Ash knew, he would have said something by now and Logan would be in the firing line.

  Scrap that… Logan would be dead.

  “I agree with your brother, silly move. Look at this bite on your neck?” Mom runs her finger across the mark that Logan left. I can feel my skin blushing, almost breaking out into hives as Mom scans her eyes over it.

  I won’t look at him. Instead, I continue to stare at my colorful bowl of cereal and pretend each loop is a buoy. One I can jump into and save m
e from the mess I’ve allowed to happen.

  “I think I got bitten, too,” Logan pipes up.

  He removes his training shirt, showing off his sculpted abs and defined muscles. He’s covered in sweat, but it only makes his torso look extra sexy.

  You didn’t just use that word.

  While he continues to stand there half-naked, my body is battling with the unusual desire to lick the sweat from in between his abs, and the guilt that tells me I’m no better than Wes.

  “Holy shit, bro? Something got you real good,” Ash comments loudly. “You better thank Logan for saving your sorry ass, Emmy.”

  “Thanks, Logan, for saving my sorry ass,” I say dryly, pretending this conversation bores me when all I want to do is leave the room because there’s this dark hole I’m sinking into and it is calling my name.

  “It’s okay, your sorry ass is probably grateful,” he responds without emotion, matching my game.

  I stand up, then push the stool under the counter. I needed to clear my head. This is not how I intend to spend my time at home.

  “Come hang with us today, Emmy. Sandy’s out running but she’ll be back soon. We’re flying out at midnight, so we need to be outta here by eight.”

  Perfect. All I have to do is avoid them for the next thirteen hours and then I won’t be seeing Logan for a very, long time. Maybe never.

  “I’d love to, but I promised a friend I’d visit her today.”

  “What friend?” Ash questions, arms folded as if he’s called my bluff. “The hot one, Audrey-or-something, the one with the perky rack?”

  Logan’s reaction to the ‘perky rack’ comment says it all. With his grin fixed and eyes dancing with excitement, it’s easy to see he’s moved past last night. I’m just another notch on his belt.

  “No,” I reply with haste. “None of your business.”

  Leaving the kitchen, I quickly make my way down the hall and up the stairs toward my room. Turning the corner, and just a few feet from my door, I feel my body being held back and the grip on my arm tight and rigid. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

  I keep my back toward him, not wanting to deal with this right now. “I’m not another notch. It was a mistake, okay? Just a poor reaction to some bad news.”