––––––––
The next morning was quiet, as usual. Xander stared pensively into his milk as he spooned cereal into his mouth. He brushed his teeth without prompting. He put on his glasses, his socks, his shoes, picked up his diorama project, and waited for me at the car.
I eyed him in the rearview mirror as I drove him to school. “Are you nervous about your project?”
“No,” he said.
There was a glare over his glasses, shielding his eyes. He’d had them for about a year. Getting him to wear them to school every day used to be an uphill battle, but now, here he was at eight years old, practically a little man doing everything by himself. My little professor, I thought adoringly as I pulled into the drop-off lane.
“I love you!” I called out the window at his retreating back.
I didn’t care if I embarrassed him, or if he said it back or not. His backpack bounced on his shoulders as he shuffled toward the school’s doors. Just as I got ready to pull away, he turned around and gave me a wave.
“I love you, too.”
It was worth ten morning cups of coffee, hearing him say that. It almost distracted me from the growling motor of the Harley merging into the lane behind me.
Logan.
I recognized the messy, shorn hair under his helmet and the shape of his lips, set into a determined line. What did he want? There was no way that he just happened to end up behind me while I drove home from Canyon City Elementary.
I pulled into a gas station and got out. “What’s up, Logan?” I asked.
Logan was grinning as he took off his sunglasses. “Just riding around town. You?”
I felt a stir in my belly when he began unstrapping his leather riding gloves, but I ignored it. “Cut the shit. Why are you following me?”
“Moi?” Logan said, putting a hand on himself. “Never!”
“Then I suppose you just needed some gas, then?”
“Nope. Coffee.” He swung his leg off of his bike and raised his eyebrows at me as he walked past.
I frowned. What an annoying little shit. Shaking my head, I slid back into the car and went on my way. My shift didn’t start until three, and Xander got out of school at two-thirty. These kinds of days were tricky because technically, I had time to pick him up myself, but it was a very tight squeeze.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, easing an oncoming migraine. Maybe I should just call the sitter today.
When I got home, I was dizzy with hunger and exhaustion, and I wasn’t sure whether I needed food or sleep more. I settled for a spoonful of peanut butter straight out of the jar, promising myself a proper breakfast after my nap. Last night’s dishes were still in the sink, but looking at them made me even more tired.
Finally, changed into a loose shirt and shorts, I flopped onto my bed. And that was when I heard it.
A low rumble was coming from the street, growing louder and louder. No, I thought to myself. I scrambled up from the bed and went to the windows. The panes practically vibrated in the window frame from all the noise. I pushed my fingers through the blinds and peeked out to my driveway.
“Mother-fuck,” I muttered.
I hurried around my room, picking up my deodorant stick, my hairbrush, and a discarded bra. I was wrestling it on under my shirt just as the doorbell rang.
“What?” I nearly screeched after wrenching open the door.
Logan stood on my front patio. “Hey. I brought you a peace offering.” He held up a grease-stained paper bag that smelled tantalizingly of doughnuts. “Can I come in?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You can just hand them to me right here. Thanks.”
Logan sighed, dropping his chin to his chest. He took off his shades and tucked them into the pocket of his leather jacket. “I actually came here wanting to talk, okay? And I thought it’d be nice to have a doughnut while we did it. So...”
I closed my eyes. Honestly, I’d been dreading this moment, but expecting it as well. Might as well get it over with. “Fine. Come in.”
The sound of Logan’s heavy boots falling on my tile floor as he entered my home was a jarring, surreal one. I turned away toward the kitchen, letting him close the door himself, and tried to see my house through a visitor’s eyes for the first time.
My living room was neat but outdated. The Navajo blanket on my couch had been a fixture in my grandmother’s house. After inheriting it, I’d put it there because I had no idea what else to do with it. The wicker chair and ottoman looked like they had belonged to her, too, but I’d actually picked them up from a yard sale for five dollars.
I gritted my teeth, expecting Logan to say something smart about my box television set, at least.
“So, where’s the kitchen?” was all he said.
“Right in here. I think I have some coffee somewhere.”
I expected Logan to sit down at the table and twirl his thumbs while I banged around in the cabinets. Instead, he dropped his bag on the counter and began doing it with me. I frowned at a shelf of cereal as I listened to him sliding plates and opening drawers. The jingle of silverware told me he’d found the forks.
“You sure know your way around the kitchen,” I remarked carefully.
He was back across the room now, setting the table I assumed. “Not really. It only comes out when I’m really hungry. It’s an evolutionary survival trait, I guess.”
I snorted. “You sound just like...” I cut myself off. “Oh, I think I’m out of coffee. Do you like milk?”
“Who do I sound like?” Logan asked.
“Nobody.”
“I sound like your son, right? Xander? Because he likes science.”
I spun around to face him. “How did you know that?”
Logan shrugged and looked away.
Oh. Of course. I’d probably told him that night we’d kissed in the car. Honestly, my memories were somewhat patchy, but I could recall enough to be ashamed about it. And unfortunately, it happened to be the reason why Logan came to see me. I just knew. I blushed as I poured two glasses of milk without confirming that Logan wanted some for himself.
“How old is he again?”
“Eight.”
I could practically hear his mind clicking away at the math. What was twenty-five minus eight? Seventeen, my age when I gave birth to him. I let myself chuckle. As if a guy like Logan could ever understand what it was like to be a parent at that age.
“Carmen? Can we talk?” Logan said softly as I hid behind the refrigerator door.
“Yeah.” I came to the table, avoiding his gaze.
“It’s about that one night. You’re okay with that, right?” he said.
“It’s fine.” I picked out a strawberry-filled doughnut and stabbed it with my fork, letting it bleed red jelly onto the plate. I already knew what he was going to say. We had a few too many drinks. I don’t really see you like that. I just want to stay friends. Something like that. Suddenly, as Logan drew in a breath, I felt the intense need to speak up first.
“Car—”
“You know what? I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I mean, we’re both crazy when we’re a little buzzed. I get that. You don’t have to try so hard to be nice. I’ll just forget it ever happened. I pretty much already did.”
Logan’s shoulders dropped. He looked relieved. But when he spoke, there was a strain in his voice. “That is not what I was thinking.”
My heart began beating faster. “Um...what are you talking about?”
Logan slid his chair toward me. “I don’t want to forget, Carmen. I want to finish what we started. That’s why I came here.”
I bristled. “And what, pray tell, did you expect? That I’d just fling myself on my back? Gee, since you asked so nicely...”
Suddenly, Logan reached out and grabbed my arms, clamping them into my sides. His grip was so tight that I could feel the pulse beating under the skin of his fingers. My heart gave a leap as he drew himself forward, so close that all I could see was the ice-blue of his eyes.
“I could just take you myself if I wanted to,” he said in a low voice. He pressed the very tips of his fingernails into my skin and skimmed them down my arms. “I could push you down onto the floor and do whatever I want with you.”
I screwed my eyes shut and gulped. Hearing him talk like that made my stomach clench uncomfortably. Sure, I’d thought about it ever since Logan first started hanging out with the Skull Kings, and especially after what had happened the last time we’d been alone together. But he was too immature, too unstable. Even if I hooked up with him just for fun (which had crossed my mind a few times before), I had a kid to think about.
“Don’t you remember how good it felt when I made you moan and squirm in the car?”
“I was drunk, Logan.” I tried to sound firm, but my voice had a shaky edge to it. I licked my lips. The movement drew Logan’s eye to my mouth.
“I know you remember,” he said with a smirk.
Just say no. It was that easy. I still had time to say no and chase Logan out of my house like the unfixed tomcat he was. But his gaze was drawing me in like a magnet. His presence made my clothes feel heavy. His touch was hot. I couldn’t help but wonder how his hands would’ve felt groping under my bra, inside my panties.
My head begged me to say no, but I just couldn’t.
Logan dragged his finger through the jelly puddle on my plate. I thought he was going to lick it off of himself, but instead he drew it across my bare neck, just under my jaw. Then, he came forward to lick it off.
I gasped, and my hands clenched into fists.
“You know how strong I am,” he continued. His words blew cold against the wet skin on my neck. His hands were at my wrists now, holding them tight in my lap. “I’ll hold you down. I’ll suck on your tits just like this.”
“Mmf,” I intoned, biting down on my lip.
Logan clamped his lips to my neck, alternating between suckling and flicking his tongue. My breaths grew shorter and shorter, and my chest rose and fell with it. Logan pulled himself away from my neck and pressed his face into the front of my shirt, burying it right between my breasts. The cotton of my tee shirt absorbed his breath, making it hot, and all I wanted to do just then was take it off.
“Logan...”
He pulled away once more and came back to kiss me. Our lips met, locked together in a way that was almost familiar. I released the breath I’d been holding this whole time and opened my mouth immediately. Logan finally let go of my hands, and they sprang up to his shoulders right away.
Logan reached around to grab my ass. In one swift movement, he hefted me onto his lap in a straddle position. I felt his hands slipping up the back of my shirt.
This is probably a bad idea, I thought to myself as I raised my arms. My hair flew into my face when Logan yanked off my shirt. A very bad idea...
But it felt so good! Logan stared unblinkingly at my breasts as if they were perfect, creamy domes cupped in the finest lace lingerie. In reality, I had stretch marks and tan lines, and I was wearing the first bra I’d been able to pick up, a plain white one. Thankfully, it was at least a push-up, and sometimes it slipped out of place, revealing the edge of my nipple, like it was doing right now. And Logan certainly seemed to enjoy the view.
He reached up and ran his thumb over the edge of my nipple, followed by his tongue. I ran my fingers through his hair as he nuzzled my breasts, trailing his tongue across and into my cleavage, edging the tip into my bra teasingly. I gripped his hair and rotated my hips in his lap, rubbing myself against the bulge in his pants.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
I felt a thrill of excitement hearing him curse, knowing that I was doing that to him. His hands roamed over my back and lingered infuriatingly over the clasp of my bra. He gripped my ass through my flannel pajama shorts and maneuvered me over his growing erection, pushing me into the speed and rhythm he liked best.
“You know how long I’ve been waiting to do this, Carmen?” he whispered. He tilted his head back to look up at me. “Ever since the first time I went to Buddy’s with the Kings. I saw you in that tight uniform, looking all hot and sweaty...” He paused to groan. “I thought you looked like a girl that needed a good fucking.”
I was exactly that girl, but back then it had been Noah I’d been looking at, not Logan. Logan had been a gawky, awkward prospect back then. Well, even though he was a full-fledged member now, he was still awkward and gawky. And annoying, I’d realize the more I got to know him. With his clothes off, though, he was built like a tree. Who knew that hiding under the leather was all that lean muscle? Not me. When Logan had pulled his shirt up to his chest that night, it had been a pleasant surprise, and it was happening all over again.
I could already feel myself getting wet and knew if he whipped it out right now, it would slide right in.
That was when I stopped moving. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not on the pill and I don’t think I have any condoms.”
“Oh, that’s it?” Logan said. He started drifting forward for another kiss. “I could just pull out, baby.”
“No.” I pushed him away. “I’ve tried that before, and guess what? It didn’t work.”
Logan dropped his head and exhaled. He was frustrated. I could understand that much. I was, too.
“Look. You’re not the one who has to carry a little growing human for nine months if something happens,” I said.
Logan’s hands fell away from my body. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. I almost thought he was going to push me off of his lap.
“You’re right,” he said after a minute-long pause.
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”
Logan’s hands came back to rest on my hips. His touch wasn’t groping this time, but supportive. “I get a little impulsive sometimes. Sorry, but seeing you like this...” He made a strangled noise in his throat. “Damn. I mean, I couldn’t help myself. Lucky for me, I picked a girl who has a head on her shoulders.”
I felt myself blushing. His erection was easing back down, and suddenly I became aware of the sheer awkwardness of the moment. Here I was, sitting in his lap with just a bra, for no reason.
“This doesn’t mean we can’t...you know. Some other time,” I said quickly.
“Definitely.” Logan kissed the top of my right breast. “Maybe the wait will be good.” He kissed my other breast and grazed his teeth along my skin, making me jump. “I’ll enjoy thinking about you in the meantime.”
* * *
I exited my steamy bathroom wearing my ratty, terrycloth robe. I could hear Xander watching T.V. in the living room. Normally, I would’ve told him to scoot to bed. But I was in a light, bubbly mood for a change.
Another ten minutes wouldn’t hurt, I said to myself as I slipped into my bedroom.
I went through my drawers and found my silk camisole. It had been a birthday present from someone who’d thoughtfully picked out the dusty pink color to set off my dark hair. I’d worn it only once under a jean jacket to a bar. I pinched my tongue between my teeth as I slid it from hand to hand, the material like cool water.
“Well...why not?”
I slipped it on over my head. It was like getting a hug from an old friend. A very sexy friend. The straps settled into the dips of my shoulders. I pulled on the matching panties and walked to my mirrored closet doors.
I placed my hands on my hips and twisted back and forth, admiring the view. My hair was still damp and tangled, and the tops of my thighs were paler than the rest of my body, but otherwise...
Not bad, I thought to myself.
I noticed the outline of my nipples through the sheer silk. Suddenly, my mind flashed back to earlier this afternoon. I imagined what Logan would’ve done this time, seeing me like this.
As if in answer, I got a text message on my phone. My chest inflated with the hope of who it could’ve been. I never got messages this late.
I picked up my phone from the top of the dresser. Logan’s name popped up on the screen.
What are you up to, read his text.
My heart began pounding. Thankfully, Logan was at least three miles away, otherwise I was sure he could’ve heard it. My thumbs hovered over my keypad.
Nothing, I began typing, but I stopped at the “n.” Nothing? “Nothing” was so generic, and technically, I wasn’t a generic kind of girl.
I glanced back at my reflection and pulled my hair behind my ears, considering. Firm resolve hardened deep inside of me. I tried striking a pose with one toe pointed out and one hand on my jutted hip. It felt ridiculous, but it looked amazing. With a deep breath, I pointed my camera phone at the mirror, took a picture, and sent it back to Logan.
His response was immediate: Holy shit. He sent another one before I had a chance to think of what to say next. Are you alone?
Yeah. And so lonely ;) I texted back. I slipped under the covers of my bed, entering one leg at a time. I stared at the ceiling as I waited for Logan’s response. It had been years since I’d flirted with someone like this, but I was feeling strangely calm.
A minute later, my phone pinged. Wish I was there.
I replied with a typical first line. What would you do to me? I counted six agonizing heartbeats before I got my answer.
I would hold you from behind and grind my hips against your sweet, tight ass until I got hard. Kissing your neck. Touching your nipples with my fingertips. Now what would YOU do to me??
“Oh, boy,” I whispered. My hand floated down my belly to rest on top of my panties. I radiated heat down there, awakening. Licking my lips, I put my thoughts into words.
I turn around and take off your shirt to explore your muscular chest with my hands. I kneel down before you, licking your stomach as I go. What should I do next?
His answer surprised me. Put your fingers on your clit. Make yourself wet while I watch.
I did as he asked, slipping my fingers past the lining of my panties. My clit was already swollen and throbbing when I put my finger against it. I released a sigh as I eased down into my pillows, my mind racing with thoughts of Logan. I had to start typing one-handed.
Touching myself. I’m so wet already.
I closed my eyes, imagining Logan in a similar position on his bed, shirt off, tattoos straining, cock in hand. I bit my lip. Mmm. I still hadn’t seen it in person, but I liked what I’d felt when I straddled him in my kitchen. He had girth and length. I took an extra minute to stroke myself after hearing my phone ping with a new message.
I slip the straps of your top off your shoulders and slowly undress you. I lay you down on the bed and suck on your perfect nipples. I rub my hard cock on your soft skin, across your clit.
I’m ready, I typed back. Put it inside. I slid two fingers into my pussy as I waited for his reply.
I put my cock inside you. You feel so tight, hot, and wet. I moan and whisper your name.
I closed my eyes. “Logan,” I said in a low voice. I began working my fingers up and down, in and out. My hips rose and fell against my hand as I imagined Logan on top of me, his tattooed forearms on either side of my head, whispering my name. And I imagined him doing the same, writhing alone on top of his bed as he jerked his fist over his long, thick python of a cock, my breathless voice in his head.
I struggled to type out my next message. We roll over so I’m on top. I ride your huge dick.
I grab your ass to hold you and fuck you hard and fast. Do you like that, baby?
I want it harder.
I pull your hair back and bite your neck. I suck on your nipples as I fuck harder up inside you.
“Fuck me, Logan,” I whispered. My eyes screwed shut as I flicked my fingers faster. I dropped my phone so my other hand could migrate down to my clit. I rubbed and fingered myself hard, all the while picturing Logan’s hands and mouth on my body.
The phone pinged again. I picked it back up hastily with my wet fingers. I want you to cum.
I’m close.
I grab your thighs and pull them up. I slam my dick into your tightness, making you scream.
I spread my legs wider, feeling myself tighten around my fingers. I slipped my camisole off my shoulders, exposing my breasts. My nipples peaked immediately as they were touched by the cold air.
Finally, I could feel myself getting close. I bit down on my lip. My skin grew hot and sensitive all over my body. My pussy dripped around my hand. I could feel it staining the sheets beneath me.
“Oh, fuck,” I hissed.
My knees locked, shooting my legs straight, as I came. My pussy pulsed with each wave, pushing my fingers out. I grabbed my breasts and squeezed them together as I rode out my climax. Breathless and sweaty, I rolled over to the dry side of my bed. I rested my hands above my head and stared at the ceiling as I panted.
Damn, I thought to myself. I wondered if Logan had been able to come, too, but fell asleep before I got a chance to ask.