by Christa Wick
6
I was coming and crying, tears wetting my cheeks, cum coating my thighs as his strokes grew longer and harder. I bucked against him, froze at the same time he did. Our bodies thawed in a flash to slam against one another in unison. Another freeze, another flash and then my pussy began to convulse. His cum gushed from him, the pulsing squirts of his climax following one after the other, my tissues so swollen and sensitive I could feel each ripple of liquid through his shaft.
He drew a hard breath in and then his hips slowly rocked side to side as he gazed into my eyes, waiting until he saw the last jolt of my orgasm run through me before he stopped thrusting.
Hovering over me in exhaustion, Logan pulled out and sat on the side of the bed for a second. Rolling toward him, I placed my palm against the small of his back and watched his expression from the corner of my eye.
He blinked a couple of times, his top and bottom lip rolling against one another. I had never seen him do that before. My brain ran through half a dozen possible emotions I could assign to that continued lip roll. None of them comforted me—remorse, guilt, a quiet revulsion…
"I'm going to check on Stevie." Leaning to the side, he kissed my forehead—another bad signal of his thoughts.
I watched him grab his robe from the bathroom and wrap it around his gorgeous body. He glanced my way one last time before leaving the room, his gaze clouded and his mouth lifting in an attempted smile.
Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I watched time flicker past. After ten minutes had elapsed, I retrieved my phone and keys from his ACU pockets and started getting dressed. I was just sliding my sandals on when Logan opened the door, one arm wrapped around a fresh blanket.
His gaze dropped to my phone and keys then his brows drew together. "Why are you dressed?"
I sucked a breath in. I had assumed he didn't want me to stay; now it looked like he did. His change of heart, if he had one, didn't matter. He had to think about whether he wanted me to stay and he had spent a dozen plus minutes doing so.
"I need to go home."
He tossed the blanket on the bed. The fabric landed on top of my keys and phone. I retrieved them and turned to leave. His hand curled around my elbow. I glanced up to find him doing that lip roll thing again. I shrugged, trying to extract my arm from his hand. His grip tightened and he stepped closer.
"Your mom isn't expecting you for at least another hour." His thumb rubbed at my arm but his face refused to relax. "You could tell her you're staying or going to Emy's."
I shook my head. Contrary to the huge mistake I had just made, my parents trusted me not to do anything stupid. I didn't have to check in. I could have stayed the night if I wanted to, but I didn't. Morning would roll around and Logan would realize what he'd spent the night with. If I left right then, I could pretend he found me desirable and always would.
I pushed his hand away from my arm and took a single sidestep toward the door when his voice stopped me.
"Why, Lily?" He turned, tracking me, and reached out to quietly shut the door. Placing one big palm against it, he blocked my exit. "What did I do wrong?"
That he had to think about whether he wanted me to stay or go raged through my head, but I couldn't voice that answer.
"This was all a big mistake." I winced at my use of big. The only big mistake in the room was me.
"Tell me what I did wrong—"
I shook my head, the motion so violent I got a little dizzy. My mouth moved, but nothing would come out. Inside my head, I yelled at myself not to cry or otherwise expose my emotions to him. He was a nice guy. He'd try to make me feel better and this would go on just long enough that I would never get over the night I had spent with him, even after he had moved on.
I dragged a deep breath in, still uncertain I could speak without breaking into tears. I was great at hiding my hurt from my bitchy older sister, but this was Logan. Looking up at him, I tried to superimpose Jody's face over his. "Look, this was just some dumb carryover fantasy that I hadn't shed from being a kid."
He moved closer, his heat and imposing body making it all but impossible to lie to him. His finger brushed along the underside of my chin until I gazed up at him. "That wasn't what I saw in your eyes the last time you were coming."
He'd probably seen complete and utter adoration, maybe even love because, yeah, I'd been stupid enough to fall in love with a man like Logan despite his perfect body and the stick of a wife he'd been married to for over a decade.
"It was a mistake," I repeated. "You're a great guy…an amazing dad, but—"
Logan's eyes went blank. He reached past me to open the door then stepped back. "You can go now, Lillian. I think it's best if I get someone else to watch Stevie."
My heart dropped in my chest. I didn't want to hurt Logan and I sure as hell didn't want Stevie to suffer. "Major…"
He stiffened and I immediately corrected myself.
"Logan, I don't want Stevie to think—" My mouth snapped shut. If I said another word I would start bawling my eyes out.
"Don't worry, Lillian." Reaching down, he took the key chain from my hand and slowly unthreaded his house key from the loop. "A few days and he'll be all settled in with someone new."
Sure, I thought, they both would.
7
Summer for America's youth officially ended two weeks later when school resumed. It also meant that I started my senior year of college and scaled back my hours at work. Since I was no longer babysitting Stevie, my mom roped me into picking my little sister Rhea up from school and dropping her off at ballet a couple times a week.
Whereas Jody is, and always has been, pure torture to be around, my parents more than made up for it by having Rhea. Rhea is one of the two most awesome kids in the universe, the other being Stevie. She is also just a year older than him. Jody calls Rhea "the mistake" because mom was supposed to be firmly past her childbearing years. Whenever that happens, I lightly elbow Rhea and tell her Jody has a stick up her butt and to ignore her. Jody hates that, but it shuts her up for a while or redirects her bitchiness towards me.
It was on the first Friday of the new school year that Mrs. McBride stopped me with a hand on my shoulder as I waited in the school parking lot. I recognized her from when she taught Rhea the year before.
She held a thick folder in front of her, almost as if thrusting it at me. "Lily, dear, you babysit Stevie Jones after school, right?"
My chest tightened, both with embarrassment and worry. It's not like I could explain that Logan had fucked then fired me, and I had been missing the little bug terribly. I gave a tight smile and hoped I didn't look too guilty. "Just until my classes restarted. Is there something I can help with?"
"Stevie's been out sick half the week and the Major wasn't able to collect his homework." Her mouth puckering, she held the folder up. "I was going to drive it over, but my own sitter just called…"
My chest tightening another notch, I grabbed the edge of the folder. "I'll take it over right after I drop Rhea off at ballet."
Relief spread across her features and she relinquished her hold on the homework. "Great, thank you so much, dear."
I nodded and returned her smile just as Rhea bounded up and threw her arms around as much of my waist as she could encompass. Unlike most tweens, she's incredibly affectionate, even in public. I hugged her back then hustled her little butt into the car and off to ballet.
Thirty minutes later I stood outside a house I hadn't visited in three weeks, my hand raised to knock but my body incapable of completing the motion. The door opened, Logan's gaze stern and his arms folded across his broad chest. He wore civilian clothing, the tight blue t-shirt showing off every bulge of muscle on his upper arms and torso.
"What are you doing here, Lillian?"
Great, he was still using my complete first name.
My tongue didn't get a chance to unstick before Stevie shouted from somewhere inside.
"Lily? Is Lily here?"
Logan slowly shook his
head, forbidding me to speak as he grabbed the folder in my hand.
Stevie called out even louder. "Lily, are you here?"
"Hey, little man!" I jerked the folder back from Logan. "I have your homework."
I sucked a big breath in and held it while I waited for Logan's anger at my disobedience to materialize. I meant it when I said he is a great guy and an amazing dad. He is not at all the kind of man that explodes, but I'd never seen his expression so tense, not even when Mrs. Jones ran off.
His eyes drifted shut, his face otherwise unyielding, and then he pivoted on one heel to let me pass. I hadn't gotten any smaller and the hall hadn't gotten any wider. My body brushed his as it always did. After a three-week absence, the usual flicker of need blazed high and I had to force my legs to take the next few steps away from him.
I heard him shut the door and follow after me. At the threshold to Stevie's room, I froze. Shirtless in bed, a deep red colored his skin and I could see that he was holding his body very stiffly.
"Oh, bug, what happened?"
He didn't answer, just pressed his mouth into a straight line. Behind me, Logan cleared his throat. "He wouldn't put sunscreen on when the after-school center went to the pool."
"That's Lily's job!" He started to fold his arms over his chest in a perfect mirror of his dad but winced and lowered them back to the sheet.
Logan and I spoke at the same time. "I'm so sorry, little man," intersected with "It's not Lily's fault you were sunburnt."
I started to move into the room. Logan caught the fabric of my sleeve and offered another terse shake of his head. Stevie looked up just in time to witness the exchange. His gaze went from petulant to a few blinks away from crying.
"Why can't she come in, dad?"
Logan didn't answer, just released my sleeve. I walked to the edge of his bed and stopped. "I've got your homework. Do you want me to go over it with you?"
He didn't answer. Lifting his arm, his hand landed on the built-in bookshelf next to his bed. He fingered the spine of one book, refusing to look at me.
"Yeah," I conceded and put the folder on the nightstand. "You've got all weekend to do homework. Do you want me to read to you?"
I reached across him, looking for one of his favorites. "This one?"
He remained silent and my finger kept drifting until he finally nodded.
Where Dolphins Play
Looking at the title, I took a hard swallow. The book had unofficially been off limits since his mother abandoned him. Now he wanted me to read it to him. Taking it from the shelf, I carefully sat down next to him on the bed. He snuggled closer, wincing until he found a position where the pain from his sunburn subsided.
Opening to the first page, I cast a nervous side glance at Logan. He had stayed out in the hall. His back rested against the wall, but his attention was focused on his son. Something like confusion softened his hard features.
Kissing the top of Stevie's head, I started to read.
I spend my day where dolphins play.
Outside my door, along the shore.
Yawning, Stevie slid a little further down his pillow.
They jump for me, they jump so high.
Another yawn, twice as long as the first. I felt his body relax in quick increments as I continued reading. As I read, my attention jumped between sentences to the hall where Logan had moved mostly out of my field of vision. I could only see his left arm and part of his left hip and leg.
From deep green sea to pale blue sky.
They jump for me, they jump for me.
Outside my door, along the shore.
I kept going until a soft snore from Stevie punctuated the last sentence. Careful not to wake him or brush against his injured skin, I rose from the bed and replaced the book. Stepping into the hall, I whispered to Logan.
"Maybe I can stay until he wakes up." Expecting him to kick me out, I tried to keep my tone neutral and make my words a statement rather than a request.
He inhaled, held it for one long minute then crooked a finger at me. I followed him to the threshold of the laundry room, where he started shuffling the bins stacked across the far wall. Before Mrs. Jones left, there had been one blue storage bin. Since her departure, green bins had started piling up as her things disappeared one-by-one from the rest of the house.
I had a very clear memory of Mrs. Jones putting the blue bin out by the trash about a week before she left. Logan had rescued it. Marching into the house that distant trash day, bin in hand, Logan had asked me to take Stevie to the park and ice cream parlor. When we returned, the house was eerily quiet and the bin was back in the laundry room. A week later, Mrs. Jones booked me for a Friday evening while Logan had special duty, patted Stevie once on the head as she left for a supposed nail appointment and never came back.
Aside from a call that night to Logan and one to her parents to let them know she was alive and enjoying a little alone time, no one had heard from her since. Logan had waited as long as the law required then filed for divorce claiming abandonment. He published the notice in the classifieds, locally and in her parents' community, but she stayed away.
Getting down to the blue bin, he motioned me into the living room. From there, he directed me through the kitchen and into the garage. A side door on the garage opened onto a small patch of the front lawn and the trash bin. He opened the trash bin, then the blue one.
A white silk and lace pillow rested on top of the bin's other contents. It looked like a ring pillow—the kind used at weddings. He tossed it in the trash then scooped out a long, white gauzy piece of fabric that ended in a silk and rhinestone studded headband.
A wedding veil.
8
"She threw the dress out a month after the wedding, but I managed to salvage the veil and pillow. Had them cleaned. She's thrown them out a couple more times since then." He didn't look at me when he spoke, just reached into the bin, grabbed a pencil box from it and let the larger container fall to the ground.
Opening the pencil box, he plucked a white garter from it and shot it into the trash. My brain did a double take at the size of the garter. It couldn't have belonged to Mrs. Jones. At least that's what I thought until he handed me the top photo from the stack the box had held.
The Major, then a second lieutenant, was instantly recognizable. The woman next to him—not so much. Her eyes were the same color as those of Mrs. Jones and Stevie. Her hair matched Stevie's in coloring, too, but the Mrs. Jones I knew was a bleached blonde. The discrepancy I really couldn't wrap my head around was the size of the woman.
"She lost thirty pounds before the wedding." Taking the picture from me, he tossed it in the trash. "Didn't stop dieting after that, not even when she got pregnant with Stevie and I had to beg her to eat."
He flashed another picture at me, even older than the first judging by how much bigger Mrs. Jones appeared. Logan shuffled a few pictures in which Mrs. Jones did not appear to the bottom of the stack then handed me one of her with a small bundle in her arms and three sizes smaller than her wedding photo.
"Stevie has never seen this picture because she thought she was still too heavy. Or this one or this one…" He shuffled through several more pictures, letting me catch a glimpse of the ever shrinking Mrs. Jones before he tossed each one into the trash. The photos that didn't have her in them, he kept.
Finished, he closed the lid on the trash, tossed the empty blue bin into the garage then ushered me into the kitchen. Closing the door to the garage, he tossed the pencil box with its remaining photos on the counter and gently pushed me against the wall. His arms came up and he planted a palm on each side of me, his body forming an inescapable barrier.
"You have something to say, Lily."
It was an order, not a question. He wanted me to explain myself. I didn't want to. How could I admit that I had run out after the best sex of my life with a man I'd been crushing on for five years because I didn't trust him to find me attractive the morning after?
Releasing a hea
vy breath, Logan leaned close. His lips ghosted along my cheek and he repeated the order. "You have something to say."
Fighting the urge to touch him, I pressed my palms flat against the wall and inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry!"
That was it. Three syllables of absolute ineptitude after I had rejected him and walked away.
He stepped closer, only stopping when our bodies touched. "That wasn't what I meant."
Feeling the hard swell of an erection against my lower stomach, I went a little weak in the knees. His hands moved from the wall to my hips. Angling his head, he lowered it. His mouth moved against my throat and then he took a small nip before growling softly. "One more time, baby. You have something to say."
My words came out fast and broken. "I left because I was afraid you wouldn't find me attractive after the initial rush."
His right hand surfed up my side as his growl turned into a purr. "Baby, I think you’re the sexiest thing on two legs."
Hearing my own description of Logan thrown back at me, I offered a short laugh. His grip growing more possessive and sensual, he cinched me against his hard body. He kissed up to my ear, then took another small bite. "You're staying the night, Lily."
It wasn't my night to retrieve Rhea from ballet.
"Okay," I whispered softly.
"The weekend, too." Another kiss, another bite and then his hand gripped my mound and squeezed.
With no chance in hell I would disagree, I offered another meek acquiescence. "Sure."
"Baby, are you trying to completely kill my ego?" He laughed grimly, his free hand palming my breast. "No enthusiasm, just okay and sure?"
I met his gaze then blushed madly. "I'm enthusiastic. Believe me."
"I'll check for myself." The grim expression evaporated as one side of his face lifted in a mischievous grin. The hand at my mound slid up. He unbuttoned and unzipped me then his fingers smoothed over my hairless flesh to part my labia. When my juices instantly soaked his fingers, he groaned.
