Smart, Sexy and Secretive

by Tammy Falkner

  He can’t see my mouth in this position, but he can see my hands. If I come any harder than I did last night, you might have to call for a doctor to restart my heart.

  He chuckles. I love him so much. He starts to move inside me, and I swear he’s hitting a spot that’s never been touched before. “Do you still have to pee?” he asks.

  I shake my head. I don’t have to pee at all. Logan rocks my hip so he can slide his hand beneath me, and he bumps my clit, then flattens me over his forearm. I lift my bottom so he can move his fingers, pushing back toward him as he rides me slowly, pushing in and pulling out as he rubs my clit in small, tight, delicious circles.

  “Have you ever used a vibrator?” he asks. His breaths are heavy in my ear and his arm is trembling by my shoulder, but he keeps up his lazy thrusts. “Have you?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Your clit is so sensitive,” he says, his voice like melted butter, smooth and slick. “I think you’d like one.” He rubs me so slowly, and I can’t bite back my groan. He smiles against my shoulder. “Would you let me use one with you if I bought it?”

  I’d let him do just about anything right now as long as he keeps doing what he’s doing. I don’t respond.

  “I think you’d love it. You’d get off so fast. Even faster than normal.” His fingers are practically wicked, and his hips continue to pump, shoving him in and out of me so slowly. I push my bottom back, and he takes even more of me. I try to speed him up, because I want to come so badly. But he’s so slow and methodical. His fingers on my clit move quicker. He knows what I want, and he gives it to me. “So sensitive,” he says.

  I break with a muffled cry, my face pressed into the sheets to keep myself from screaming, and he continues to rub my clit, milking every last shiver and shake of pleasure from my body. He stills inside me as I come.

  “God, I love the way you squeeze me so tightly when you come,” he says. His words make me crazy, and he knows it. I shiver and collapse against the bed. I’m spent.

  Having to pee didn’t make me come harder, I sign. Just for the record.

  “It doesn’t improve that kind of orgasm,” he says, and I feel his rumbly chuckle against my back. “It makes this kind better.” He shoves my right leg forward, pushing it out to the side and up. Then he spreads my ass cheeks and starts to move.

  My breath leaves my body. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything but hold on tightly to the sheets as I arch my back, giving him every single inch of me, and I take everything he has to give me. I’ve never felt like this, never had this kind of stimulation. He’s not even touching my clit, and he’s making me crazy. He’s rubbing some part of me inside that I didn’t know existed.

  His heavy grunts in my ear tell me he’s close. But I’m closer. This orgasm isn’t like the last one. It’s completely different, and it’s more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced. “Come with me,” he growls. He grows bigger inside me, if that’s even possible, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop until I fling my head back, coming around him. This one is a warm wash of pure pleasure, nothing like the shaking, quaking clitoral orgasm from before. He grunts and says my name over and over as he comes, and I stretch out across the sheets. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t talk. He pulls out of me, quivering as he does so, and he falls down beside me. His breaths are harsh, and he’s struggling to compose himself as much as I am.

  “Do you still need to pee?” he asks with a chuckle.

  “I might if I could move,” I say. He tweaks my nose and laughs. It’s a throaty sound, and it makes me so happy to hear it. “Where did you learn that?” I ask. I realize my mistake as soon as I make it.

  He shrugs and avoids my gaze. I reach for him, making myself come out of my post-coital stupor, and I climb up on his chest, elbowing him so that he winces and I can take his mind off my mistake. I don’t want him to feel guilty for his past. I can’t change it. And right now, I’m damn glad he has one because I’ve never had an experience like that. Just think what I was missing.

  “You have pointy elbows,” he says, pulling my arms to my sides so I fall flat on his chest. I stick my chin into him and laugh. “And your chin, too.” He tousles my hair playfully. “Death by elbow impalement,” he says. He has dismissed my earlier moment of insanity with my stupid question. Good.

  “Sorry I was being nosy,” I say quietly.

  “You can ask me anything you want,” he says. He looks into my eyes. “But you can’t get mad at me when I give you the answers.” He arches a blond eyebrow. “Do you really want to know where I learned that?”

  I push off of him. “No.”

  He chuckles. “Wait,” he says, pulling me back on top of him. “I learned it from a men’s health magazine, silly.” He laughs. “I wasn’t even sure it would work.” His laughter rumbles around the room. It’s such a welcome sound. He looks down his nose at me. “Did it work?”

  “Oh, heck yeah,” I breathe. It worked.

  He kisses me. “Good.”

  Logan

  I follow Emily into her apartment and stop short when I see Trip lying on her sofa in nothing more than a pair of boxers. He has one hand stuck in the waistband of his underwear and the other is behind his head. He’s completely oblivious to the fact that we’re there. What the fuck, I sign.

  He didn’t know we were coming.

  I don’t give a fuck if he knew we were coming or not. He doesn’t live here. And he doesn’t live alone. This is shit.

  “Trip,” Emily calls. She picks up a couch pillow and throws it at his head. “Put some clothes on.”

  He sits up. “Oh,” he says, his smile bright. Then he sees me behind her. His smile falters. “Good morning.” He nods at me and gives me a tight, fake grin. “Logan,” he says.

  “Trip,” I say with a nod. Emily walks toward the kitchen. He calls to her retreating back. “A courier came a few hours ago with some clothes. I put them on your bed.”

  Her head shoots around the corner. “My room is off-limits,” she says sharply. Trip grins. I want to punch his fucking face.

  “It’s not like I’ve never been in your room before,” he says. He’s still grinning, and this time, I start toward him.

  Emily rushes across the room and stops me by putting her hands on my chest. “Let’s go see what my mom sent.”

  I look down at her. I’ll go with her as soon as I deal with Trip. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in just a minute.” I nudge her shoulder toward her room.

  “Logan,” she says. Stop it.

  Stop what? I go and sit down on the couch beside Trip, cross my foot over my knee, and raise my arms to the back of the couch. “You go shower. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

  Emily stomps her foot, and I smile at her. I’m not moving. Not until I tell Trip a few things he needs to know. You may as well go ahead. Trip and I need to talk.

  “That thing you two do is rather rude,” Trip says snidely, looking from one of us to the other.

  “You mean talking?” I ask. I smile at him. To Emily, I sign, Go ahead. I won’t hurt him. I promise.

  You swear it?

  I draw an x over the center of my chest. She rolls her eyes and goes into her bedroom.

  “It’s still just as rude now as it was a moment ago,” he says. I imagine he grumbles it, but I really can’t tell. He’s looking at the TV and not at me, but I can still see his lips.

  “What’s rude is bringing my girlfriend home and finding her ex-boyfriend in her apartment wearing nothing but his boxers.” I smile at him. I work to look relaxed, but I’m not.

  “She was my girlfriend first,” he says. He reminds me of Hayley when she’s really tired and doesn’t get her way.

  “I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.” I grit my teeth.

  He shrugs. “Never know. That ship might come around again.”

  “You’re totally fucking up the Bro Code, dude,” I say.

  “Bro Code?” he asks. “We’d hav
e to be Bros”—he draws quotes in the air—“for that to be a concern, wouldn’t we?”

  I nudge his shoulder with mine playfully…and forcefully. “Oh, we’re Bro’s. You just don’t know it yet. I can be your best friend or I can be your worst enemy. But I can’t be your best friend while you’re living with my girl. Or while you’re in your boxers.” I look down at the offending item. “Put some fucking clothes on when you’re outside your room,” I growl.

  Shit. I was trying to stay so calm. I fail. Game over.

  He bites his lower lip as though he’s laboring over something snarky to say. “See, Logan, that’s just it. This is my apartment right now. So I can walk around dressed any way I like.”

  “Well, in that case,” I start. I get up, stretching broadly. “Emily and I will just have to stay in her room for a bit. Until you can decide to put some clothes on.” I pat his naked knee and flash a conspiratorial grin. “There wasn’t a TV in her room the last time I spent the night there.” His grin falters. “But I’m sure we can find something to occupy the time.” I wink at him. “Bet you fucking wish you were me right now. One—so you don’t have to hear me with Emily.” I point to my ears, reminding him I’m deaf. “And two—so you could be alone with her in her room. Naked.” I make a tsk, tsk, tsk with my mouth. “Of course, if you were dressed, we would be able to hang out here with you.”

  He gets up and stomps toward his room. A minute later, he comes back wearing lounge pants and a T-shirt.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “You’re not welcome,” he replies. He sits up and looks at me over the back of the couch. “You know I had her first, right?” he says.

  “I know you fucked it up by insulting her.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. The idea of him calling Emily stupid makes me want to body slam him.

  His shoulders shake as he laughs. “Is that what she told you?” He starts to flip channels on the TV.

  He’s baiting me, but I can’t stop. “Only a royal dumbass would try to hurt a girl like her,” I say.

  He gets up and walks toward the kitchen. He pats my chest as he walks by me. “Just remember, Bro.” He gets in my face, and his lips move slowly. “I popped her fucking cherry.”

  He must see the anger in my face because he suddenly backs up.

  But he knows he has me at this point. He has insulted Emily by talking about intimate matters that never should have left the bedroom. I fight back the urge the punch him.

  “Oh, that bothers you, doesn’t it?” he asks. “The fact that I’ve been inside her. I’ve had her on top of me and under me and with her mouth wrapped around my—”

  I shove him so hard that his head hits the wall. I can feel the vibration of it in the floor. “Shut it,” I say.

  “Why?” He grins. “Are. You. Having. Trouble. Following?” He says it slowly. “I fucked your girl.” He shrugs. “Or you’re fucking my girl? I don’t know which it is. But I know I don’t have to like it. She’ll get tired of you, and when she does, I’ll be here with her daddy’s blessing, waiting to put a ring on her finger.”

  “It’ll never happen,” I growl. I want to pound his face into the wall, but I know I can’t.

  “Wait and see,” he says.

  “Get your own place to live and stay out of her life, Shit.”

  He grits his teeth. “It’s Trip.”

  “That’s what I said, Shit.” I place my fingertips over my mouth. “Oh no!” I cry like a girl. “Did I make a mistake? Sometimes us deaf guys, we can’t enunciate properly.” I can enunciate just fine, but I choose not to because I’ve finally pissed him off. “You understand my problem, don’t you, Shit?” I grab the front of his shirt and jerk his face close to mine. “If you ever talk about Emily the way you did a minute ago to anybody, including me, I’ll wrap your little dick around your throat and tie a fucking knot in it. Do you understand?”

  His gaze drops from mine. I think I’ve finally made my point.

  “I think Emily can make her own choices.” He adjusts his clothes when I let him go.

  “She already did.”

  I’m talking to his back by this point. His door slams.

  I start toward Emily’s room. Maybe I can help her get dressed. But just as I’m about to turn the knob, the front door opens and her parents walk in. They may have knocked. I can’t be sure. It seems like Shit would have come out if he’d heard a bell or something. Or Emily. They’re her parents and they pay for the place, so I guess they can do what they want.

  “Logan,” her mom says, walking quickly toward me. She’s a pure delight, and I’m surprised I like her as much as I do. She hugs me and pats my back. “Where’s Emily? Did the clothes I sent fit?” She looks down at what I’m wearing and grimaces. I see that they’re dressed really nicely when Mr. Madison helps Mrs. Madison take her coat off. She’s wearing pearls and diamonds, and her blue dress probably costs more than a car.

  “Emily is getting dressed first,” I say, nodding toward the bedroom.

  She hurries in that direction and slips into her daughter’s room, closing the door behind her.

  I stand there starting at Mr. Madison like an idiot. I made an ass of myself the last time I saw him, walking out the way I did. I really want to have a good relationship with him. I stick out my hand, and he reaches for mine, squeezing it tightly as he looks into my eyes.

  “Mr. Madison,” I begin. I don’t know what to say.

  “Mr. Reed,” he replies. He lets my hand go and stares at me like he’s waiting for me to apologize. I wouldn’t do that on my fucking deathbed, because I don’t think you should apologize for anything unless you’re sorry.

  “Logan,” I say, correcting him.

  He just nods.

  “Mr. Madison, I wanted to talk with you,” I begin. I don’t know the right words to say what I want to say.

  “Yes, I’d hoped you would.”

  He sits down in a chair and motions to the couch opposite him. I sit gingerly, not sure of how to proceed. “The last time we spoke…”

  “You mean when you walked out and smashed something?” he asks.

  I want a cigarette. I can almost feel one between my fingers. “It was just a trash can.” It could have been his face if I wasn’t such a gentleman. And he wasn’t Emily’s father.

  “That trash can never did you any harm.” But he smiles as he says it, and the pressure in my chest eases some.

  “Mr. Madison, I feel like I need to explain my intentions toward your daughter.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Do go on.”

  “I love her like crazy, and I’d like to have your permission to marry her.” I blink at him. I need to say more and it’s on the tip of my tongue, but the words won’t come.

  “No.”

  That’s all he says. Just no.

  “Mr. Madison,” I start. “I’d really like to have your blessing.”

  “My answer is still no, young man.” He leans forward putting his elbows on his knees. “Before Emily was born, I dreamed of what my family would be like. I dreamed of a houseful of kids. But she was the only one. We didn’t find out until she was in kindergarten that there was something wrong with her.” He shakes his head. “I hope you never find out what it’s like to have child with the problems Emily has. It was a disappointment to us all.”

  I sit back. I suddenly can’t catch my breath. I would be honored to have a daughter like Emily.

  He goes on, shaking his head. “She’ll never be a business mogul or a scientist or a doctor. She’ll never be able to fulfill any of the dreams we had for her. But she can marry well.” He leans over and squeezes my knee like he’s sharing a secret with me. “And you, son, do not fit the criteria.”

  He holds up a hand when I open my mouth, and I close it. I probably look like a fish flopping on dry land.

  “You’ll run your little tattoo shop and you’ll have a shitty apartment and you’ll buy your wife a tiny diamond. And you’ll be happy with that. But I’ll never be happy with that
for my daughter. She deserves better.”

  “Yes,” I agree. “She does deserve better.” She deserves better than the father she ended up with. She deserves to have a father who can see the fucking beauty and intelligence that’s inside her. “She deserves better,” I say again.

  “I’ve decided to let her have her fun until it plays out.” He leans back and steeples his hands over his belly. “But when all is said and done, I expect her to marry well. And that won’t involve you.”

  “But—” I can’t even get out a sentence. I’m so fucking floored.

  “No buts,” he says. “Emily is having a last fling before she settles down with a nice young man like Trip.”

  “Trip thinks she’s stupid,” I say. I don’t even realize it until his eyes meet mine. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  He nods. “The boy knows how to call them, but he’s willing to overlook it. She’ll make a fine wife. She’ll pop out a few kids, and she’ll be content.” He blows through his lips. “She’ll put down that damn guitar and live the only life that is befit her, as the wife of someone important.”

  “I’m sorry, but I disagree, sir.”

  He snorts. “Of course you do.”

  I heave a sigh. “I plan to change your mind, sir.”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing will change my mind. I knew Emily’s future the moment I found out she would never be able to read.” He shoves to his feet. “No worries. We’ll hire nannies who can read to her children. Maybe they won’t turn out like her.”

  I hope to God that every one of her children turns out exactly like her. She’s fucking perfect.

  “I won’t stop trying.” I need for him to know my intentions. “I intend to make myself worthy of your daughter. I want to be sure you’re aware of my thoughts on the matter, sir.”

  He looks down at his watch. “Go and get dressed. I won’t let you make us late.”

  I get to my feet. I can’t bite it back any longer. “Sir, with all due respect, you’re a fucking idiot if you think Emily’s stupid or incapable of learning. She’s brilliant. She’ll have brilliant children and do brilliant things. And she’ll do them married to me.” His eyes cloud with anger. I have pushed too far, and I don’t care. “I would be honored to have her as my wife, exactly as she is.”