by Kat T. Masen
“I think I saw them coming out of their room on level five,” I tell them, keeping my face hidden.
In the corner of my eye, I see them look at each other.
“Are you trying to find them, too?”
“Me?” I laugh. “No. I’m not into celebrities at all, I think they’re sell-outs.”
The comment is enough to put the girls off surely, but no, they exit on level five on the hunt for their soccer stars. I exit on level twenty-two, taking a left and hoping I don’t run into Ash. They’re on the same floor but in different rooms—a request from Logan because Ash snores like a freight train.
The door to room 609 is in front of me. Knocking gently, I wait for any sounds of life before knocking a little harder. The door opens and Logan’s standing in the entrance, wearing a towel around his waist with his hair dripping wet.
Don’t look at his body.
Ignore the pack of abs screaming ‘lick me.’
I smile politely then walk in holding my breath, letting it go when I scan the room. Logan’s a complete neat freak, the total opposite of Ash. He’s made his own bed and even hung the towels in the bathroom. The room is modern, drapes open slightly to allow the morning sun.
I turn back around to face him.
“Did I miss the memo to work out?” he jokes.
I try to hide my smirk but it’s impossible, especially as he stands there tempting me so badly. “Did I miss the memo to join the Swedish hot-tub club?”
Logan chuckles, his wide grin accentuating his strong jawline. “I was taking a shower.”
“How convenient of you?” I say, holding his gaze.
A look passes between us, and not to show how uncomfortable I am I walk to the window and pretend to be looking at the view. I have to admit it is stunning. The Hollywood Hills in the distance and blue skies gracing us on this beautiful spring day.
As I look around, I notice a couple in the apartment block the next street over. They’re inside what looks like a living room and the chick is on all fours as a guy eats her out from behind.
“Oh my God!” I gasp, covering my mouth instantly.
“What?” Logan stands behind me, a little too close. I can feel the towel touching my yoga pants.
“That couple.” I point.
“Oh, yeah... them.”
“Oh, yeah, them?” I repeat. “You’ve been here a day and you’re talking about them like you’re besties.”
“They caught my eye yesterday. Although, he had his cock in her ass that time.”
My eyes widen, the heat rising beneath my skin. Logan mentioning the word cock does something to me that needs to be restrained or I will jump him with that towel on. “Nice.”
He laughs, placing his hands on my shoulders then massages them gently. “There’re many words to describe being ass-fucked, but nice is probably not one of them.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I admit, immediately regretting it. “Wow! Those palm trees are tall.”
He turns me around, his stance intimidating me. “You don’t go from telling me you’ve never had a dick in your ass to the height of palm trees.”
“Uh... whatever.” I roll my eyes. “I bet you’ve fucked a million girls that way, man-whore.”
Logan continues to laugh irritating me further. “Believe it or not, no. When I fuck, I want it over and done with and out of my apartment.”
“Nice,” I say again, with a fake smile.
“That’s not nice, Emmy. I sense some jealousy in your voice.”
“Me?” I point to my chest. “Jealous of what? I know what you’re like, Logan. It’s not a secret. I came here to talk because you wanted to talk. So talk.” I fold my arms, keeping myself protected.
“You’re hot when you’re angry. Do you know that?”
“Yes, I do,” I respond with sarcasm.
He rubs his chin, making it hard for me not to notice the playful grin he continues to maintain. “About last night...”
Of course, it’s about last night. What did I think it would be about?
“Yeah?”
“I was going to fuck you,” he states firmly.
“And? I was going to fuck you.”
“Then we didn’t.”
“Well, Ash being a cockblocker is nothing new. Once, in high school, Mom and Dad were away and I brought this guy home. I swear Ash had his radar on because he clung to me like a bad smell.”
Logan’s grin disappears, his muscles tightening with a pinched expression. If I didn’t know better, he appears jealous. I want to laugh. How can he be jealous of something that happened in high school?
“Wait... are you jealous? You know jealously looks nice on you,” I tell him playfully.
“Stop with the word nice.”
“Fine, but you’re jealous? Just admit it.” I poke at his chest, any excuse to touch him.
“I’m jealous that other men get to touch you, but I don’t.”
I stand perfectly still, my heart’s racing followed by quick breaths. His stare is persistent, making it difficult for me to think straight. The green is his eyes make it problematic to notice anything else, but this hard stare makes me want to fall to the floor and beg him to have his way with me.
And then, I remember our pact—to have fun.
Our little secret.
“Then touch me,” I whisper.
He raises his fingertip and traces my cheek. “We need to agree this is just for fun.” He keeps his voice low. “Just between us.”
I nod. I don’t want anything else from him, but this escape.
“And fucking you won’t just be nice,” he accentuates. “If I fuck you, you’re going to feel it.”
Inside I’ve already descended into orgasm mode, but to keep my tough-girl persona, I think of a way to challenge him. I don’t want him to believe he has the upper hand. “You’re on, Carrington.” I tug on his towel, watching it fall to the floor. I’m taken aback by his cock standing hard. I’ve never been one to overanalyze with such detail but his cock seems absolutely perfect.
I fall to my knees, wrapping my hand around his length. His body instantly jerks. He moans as his hand wraps around my hair. I stroke it gently, his skin so soft yet rock hard beneath my grip. As I move my head in, I open my mouth and allow my lips to wrap around him, sliding into me as his whole body buckles forward.
“Fuck,” he moans, pushing my head to him.
I take in as much as I can, his growl coercing me to go deeper. His cock hits the back of my throat, but my reflexes push him back out in between my attempts to catch my breath. Beneath my yoga pants, my thin cotton panties are soaked, waiting for him to rip all my clothes off and fuck me hard like he’s promised.
I pull his cock out of my mouth, and with barely any breath I tell him, “Fuck me like you promised.”
His expression is pure torment, using all his strength to pull me up and toss me onto the bed, I lay there as he strips me leaving me bare in front of him.
He remains quiet, silently admiring the view in front of him. His eyes begin to wander, eating me up as they burn with fire when they land on the prize.
Spreading my legs with force, he positions himself in the middle, resting on his knees with his cock sitting at my entrance, gently caressing my clit. I close my eyes, moaning in delight as my back stretches against the white satin sheets.
He slides himself in, then waits, not moving but keeping himself buried. I open my eyes, maintaining an even breathing pattern to stop myself from coming straight away. His lack of movement leaves me wondering but now is not the time for questions.
“We were supposed to talk,” he strains.
“You’re buried inside me. I don’t know how coherent our conversation will be.”
He thrusts forward, catching me off guard and making me moan. “When I’m fucking you, it’s just you and me,” he commands, his tone powerful, posture straight while demanding I listen to him.
“It’s just you and me,” I repeat merely above a whis
per. “But who else would it be? I’m not into threesomes, Logan.”
His body falls onto mine, lips touching then he kisses me deeply. Moaning into his mouth, I place my hands on his back, scratching from top to bottom as he lays still again. I’ve never been slow-fucked before. Not realizing how intense everything can be in slow motion.
Lifting his head, he drops it again into the crook of my neck, tasting the sweat off my skin. The tip of his tongue dances against me until he’s found my lobe, biting on it while using his hand to fondle my breast.
“I don’t care what you do outside of this room. I don’t care who you’re with, engaged to, or claim not to sleep with… I care about only this, Emerson. All your focus is on me. Do you understand me?”
I nod, incoherently, wanting to tell him that his demands turn me on.
I yank his face away from my ear, holding his head in front of me so he understands that I feel the same way. “Logan, this stays between us. Whatever happens in this room stays between us.”
He lowers his head, biting my lip and attempting to speak through strangled breaths. “You make me crazy. You make me think that nothing else in the world matters. Not soccer... nothing. I hate you for it.”
Unable to hide the smile that appears, he pulls back watching me in amusement.
“I hate you for everything you’ve done to me since we were kids. I want nothing more than to fuck you hard right now so you’re left with this moment torturing you for the rest of your life.”
“Quite a challenge, Chase.” His mouth widens with a grin, eyes watching the movements of my lips.
“Try me.”
He pulls his body up, keeping his hand beneath my chin. Using only his hips, he thrusts himself hard, slamming his body against mine. My head tilts back, neck exposed as he does it again. I quietly beg for him to go harder, the slow, excruciating pace teasing me beyond my means. All that needs to happen is one more thrust and I’m all his.
“I don’t play nice, or fair. I hate you as much as you hate me. And for everything you’ve done to me that’s caused me pain… this is payback, baby.”
Lifting my right leg above his shoulder, he spreads me wider exposing my clit, and without any further warning he lurches forward, slamming his cock in so deep it causes a ripple effect. My nipples stand on edge as the orgasmic sensations flood my entire body causing me to moan loudly until my throat runs dry.
Lost in this moment, barely able to open my eyes, I don’t notice he’s collapsed on top of me, panting heavily with our bodies drenched in sweat. His weight is heavy, but I don’t want to say anything and luckily don’t have to as he pulls himself out and lays beside me on his back.
We say nothing for a long time until the room no longer echoes our heavy breathing and falls completely silent.
“What time does your flight leave?”
“Just after noon.”
“Logan, I’m on birth control.”
He places his hands on his face, moaning underneath his palms. “Fuck, I don’t know why I didn’t ask.”
I laugh. “Because you weren’t thinking straight.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he answers seriously, keeping his expression straight. “Now what?”
“You go to England, I stay here.”
“Right.”
I feel exposed having this conversation in the nude. My top sits beside me so I pull it to me, placing it on my chest to feel less exposed. “We said no strings attached. Fun, without strings. You have your career and I have mine. Maybe when you’re in town again we can get together and have more stringless fun.”
“I’m still in town.”
“Yes, you are,” I agree.
He sits up on his knees and between my legs. Removing my top, he demands me naked in front of him. “I’m still in town for another twenty minutes. So, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve given me the green light to have more fun.”
His cock is rock hard, again.
I swallow the lump trapped in my throat and smile back at him. “What ya got for me, Carrington?” I tease.
“Turn around, baby,” he demands with a wicked grin. “You’ll see.”
Chapter Fourteen
“A man can always tell when
another lion is sleeping in his den.”
~ Emerson Chase
I haven’t heard from Logan in weeks. Through conversations with Mom, I know they have a round of important games and their focus is on training. Without raising too much suspicion, I ask a few questions hoping to get some insight as to what else is going on.
“So, how’re things with Ash and Alessandra?”
“Sandy, darling,” Mom corrects me in a posh British accent. “They’re okay, I guess. She’s been looking for wedding venues. There are a couple of places on the east coast, but I’m not sure the boys can come back to the States for a while.”
“Oh?” I hide my disappointment. “I thought there was a chance they may play for the US team?”
“I don’t know if that’s going to happen. Coach Bennett is reluctant to let them go, and they’re under a lot of pressure to win their season. Daddy flew over on Monday, so I guess we’ll wait and see.”
“Ash doesn’t seem to care much about the wedding,” I ramble on, pointing out the obvious. “He couldn’t care less about anything besides soccer.”
“That’s your brother for you,” she says plainly. “Wesley seems to be keen to walk down the aisle. I saw last night’s episode, I didn’t realize how sentimental he is.”
I’m quick to shut her down, but still hold back what happened. “Oh, yeah. That episode about his grandmother? Load of shit, Mom, he didn’t even know her.”
“But he appeared so genuine?” I can hear the shock in her voice. “Emmy, what’s going on? Between you and him?”
“We’re just busy, Mom. The wedding’s not on our minds.”
The guilt eats away at me, so I give her only that small piece of information. Last night’s episode featured our preliminary discussions about the wedding. Just a short conversation about Wesley’s family and his relationship with his grandmother. Cliff wanted Wesley to have more of an appeal to our female viewers and his idea worked, many reaching out to Wesley after it aired about their family struggles with Alzheimer’s. It painted Wesley in a different light—the sweet man with a heart of fucking gold.
The more successful the show’s become, the more it becomes scripted. I never signed up for a soap opera, honestly thinking our lives would be documented in a positive way to help others in our generation.
“Take your time, kid, there’s nothing wrong with staying engaged. I’m just glad to watch you get married, rather than hear about it over a cup of coffee.” Her voice becomes muffled, and in the background I hear my sister’s voice.
“Hey, Emmy.”
“Hey, Tay-Tay,” I cheer, happy to hear her voice.
“Ugh, don’t call me that. Puh-lease.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “What’s happening?”
“Not much. Just school.” Her tone remains uninterested and bored. “What about you? Anything interesting going on besides Wesley posting a photo of you in a bikini? By the way, nice hair. Totally love the purple.”
“It’s back to brown now.” Knowing Mom’s close by, I pray she doesn’t say anything about Logan. “So, any chance of getting you to fly over for the summer? I’d love to spend some time with you once our filming schedule finishes.”
“I’d love to, but me and the girls have planned a trip to Miami… if Dad lets me.”
I laugh, rudely. “Yeah, good luck with that. Pigs will fly before Dad lets you hang out in Miami. He doesn’t even let you go to the city.”
“Thanks for bursting my bubble,” she complains. “I got to go, I’ll give the phone back to Mom.”
There’s a shuffle and more noise until Mom says she’s back.
“Miami, huh?” I bring it up while scrolling through my cell looking for what Wesley posted.
“Maybe you can take her
? Or maybe Ash and Logan?”
“Let the man-whores loose in man-whore city…” I keep my tone controlled, not wanting the spur of jealousy to be known.
“You’re right. I love Ashley, but in a way, I’m glad Alessandra has tamed him. As for Logan…” there’s a pause, and I wait with bated breath for her to continue, “… he’s going to break someone’s heart one day. I truly feel sorry for that woman.”
I swallow the giant lump in my throat. “Why do you say that, Mom?”
“Because Logan’s always struggled with stability. His behavior has been erratic and unpredictable. I love him like my own, but Reese leaving him did more harm than good.”
“But Aunty Reese is your best friend. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Why? Because she had her own battles. I just wished she would have worked them out and been there for him. At the end of the day, she’s his mother, not me,” she admits.
I don’t know how we steered onto this topic. As much as I want more insight into the past, Mom is on point with Logan’s behavior. He is like that, I know that. Everything we do together is erratic and irresponsible. But it’s what I need, I’m sick of being the responsible one.
“Change of subject.... did I tell you George is in heat?”
Mom laughs through the receiver. “He’s male. Can male dogs be in heat?”
“I didn’t think so, but he’s dry-humping everything in sight. In fact…” I look toward the window where I see him on the balcony dry-humping the outdoor furniture, “… he’s going for it right now. He has a thing for the outdoors.”
“I think I need to pay my grandson a visit.”
“Yes,” I cheer loudly. “Are you planning to fly over?”
“One of my fellow author friends has a ranch in the Hills and is planning a book launch in a few weeks. I’d love to support her plus, I don’t want to cramp your apartment. Let me confirm the dates and we’ll make something happen. I know you’re a busy woman building your empire and all, but hopefully, you’ll have time for your mommy.”
“I always have time for you.” I smile.
“Okay, kiddo. I gotta go. Meeting in the city with my publisher,” she tells me in a rushed tone. “Do you think my red dress with the gold buttons makes me look like an aging whore?”