Sins For Truths (The Case Files of Logan St. Martin Book 2)

by S. L. Hebert

  I quickly interject myself into the conversation. “Logan, you may not want to wear any good shoes today. I plan on going deep in the woods to see if we can come across anything that may help us with the case.”

  She looks to me, almost as if she wants to roll her eyes, then says, “Great, I’ll wear my boots and jeans. I hate when the bushes scratch up my legs.”

  I half-smile, saying, “You could have a thousand scratches on your legs, and they’d still be beautiful.”

  She blushes and gives me a half-smile, then takes another sip of her coffee. I begin to breathe a slow, but heavy sign of relief. It’s her way of letting me know I’m not in the dog house.

  We ended up staying downstairs and talking with Abigaila for a little while longer, then headed upstairs to get ready. Once in the room, Logan grabs the bathroom first, since she takes longer than I do, and I’ve already taken a shower this morning. I notice right away she isn’t trying to stick around in the same room with me, probably trying to avoid the conversation she knows we’ll end up having before today is over. I already decided downstairs I wasn’t going to bombard her with questions right away. I need to make sure I articulate exactly what I need to say, in the hopes that she’s receptive to me.

  While she’s in the bathroom getting ready, I decide to change out of my white polo shirt, not wanting to get it messed up in the woods. I hurry and grab my navy blue one instead. No sooner than I’m about to put it on, I hear the bathroom door open. As Logan enters the room, I can feel her eyes scanning me from head to toe. Without saying a word, I unfold the shirt to put it on when I hear her say, “Don’t.”

  I look back to see she’s already walking over to me. She’s wearing a bath robe, and I can’t tell if she has anything on underneath it. I don’t even need to look at my watch to know if she starts something, we’re going to end up being late to the medical examiner’s office.

  In an almost humming voice, she says, “Turn around. I want to look at you.”

  Silently, I do as I’m instructed, revealing the scars on my back to her. My mind starts racing from excitement. We haven’t done anything sexual since that one time at her apartment. I haven’t wanted to try; always afraid I might hurt her. I know her two fractures have healed, but she wakes up sore, and she isn’t taking the pain medication prescribed by the doctors.

  I find myself slowly closing my eyes as I feel her fingertips effortlessly glide over my back. My thoughts almost start to panic, not knowing if I will be able to control myself. I then feel her touch stop on one of my scars, and I instantly know what she’s doing, bringing me back to reality. She’s checking out my wounds, but her touch feels so good, and it leaves me longing for more.

  I find myself now praying, asking the Lord to make her hurry up before I lose my composure.

  Just when I think she’s finished, I hear her say softly, “Turn around.”

  I pause for a second, hesitant to turn around. She’s about to see exactly what she does to me. I have a huge erection bulging against my pants that I’m sure she’ll notice, and there isn’t enough time for him to calm down.

  Quickly, I think to myself, Oh well, I’m a man, for Christ’s sake.

  As I turn towards her, I place my hands together in front of me in a weak attempt to try and hide my excitement. Thankfully, she doesn’t look down and begins tracing her fingers over the scars on my chest as her eyes lock into mine.

  Mesmerized by her big green eyes, I hear her whisper, “Do they hurt?”

  “No, some of them are just not scarring over well. I guess I should be happy only two of the scars look like shit.”

  She then gives me a smart-ass smirk and says, “You could have a thousand scars on your chest and back, and you’d still look beautiful.”

  Instantly, I find myself forcing my mouth to stay closed, so I don’t burst out laughing at the way she’s using my words against me. After getting control of myself, I give her a serious look and say, “Don’t toy with me, Miss Logan St. Martin. This is a can of worms you may not want to open.”

  “Really, Mr. Grasso? What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

  Trying to stay serious and stern, I say, “It means, Logan, don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  “Oh, Mr. Grasso, I can finish anything I start. I can’t believe you doubt my abilities. I guess you need a refresher course on just what I can do…hmm.”

  Before I can respond to her take no prisoners comment, she rises on her tiptoes and gently places her lips on mine. The moment our flesh makes contact, all hope is lost, and my planned rebuttal flies out the window.

  With everything in me, I find myself trying to hold my inner selfishness back. My erection is throbbing so hard, it’s beginning to become painful, and all I want to do is throw her on the bed and ravish her body until she’s screaming my name.

  It seems the harder I’m trying to control myself, the more forceful she’s becoming. Her tongue is moving in my mouth as if it’s doing the tango, and I can almost feel her body yearning to be satisfied. As I go to wrap my arms around her waist, she slips her hands off my chest and pushes my arms down back by my thighs, breaking from the kiss.

  With seduction in her eyes, she says, “This isn’t that kind of party, Michael.”

  I’m unable to hide the surprised look on my face as she silently takes her hand and gently guides me towards the bed. Without a second thought, she says, “Sit.”

  I do as I’m told as she leans in and starts kissing me again, only this time it’s harder and with more purpose. With my fists balled up, curling the blankets on the bed, her mouth leaves mine and starts trailing gentle kisses down my neck. All the while, her warm breath repeatedly lands on my skin as she glides along, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

  Once she’s made it down to my stomach area, I see her hand rise off the bed, placing it on my chest. She softly tries to push me backward, but my mind is telling my body to do otherwise.

  She looks up from my naval area and says, “Lay back, Michael. I won’t ask again.”

  Her eyes are so bright, they’re almost glowing in a sea of green. Noticing a hint of I dare you to object in them, I take a long, deep breath, reluctantly giving in to her wish and lying on my back, allowing her to have her way with me.

  I can feel her moving south again, skimming over my stomach and stopping right at the top of my jeans. Delicately, I feel her fingers slip into my pants and unfasten the button as she glides down the zipper, releasing the pressure off my erection. Almost losing all my senses, an involuntary gasp escapes from my mouth.

  She slightly raises her head and says, “Looks like someone’s happy to see me.” Then with a smile, she puts her head back down.

  Not able to control my actions any longer, I find myself lifting my hips off the bed as she slides my pants and boxer briefs down to my ankles and onto the floor.

  In an almost demanding tone, she says, “Scoot to the end of the bed, please.”

  As I open my eyes, I look up at the ceiling and casually ask, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, I am, Mr. Grasso, and I’m about to enjoy doing a whole lot more if you quit resisting me.”

  Suddenly, I feel the need to ask, “Are you sure, Logan? I don’t want to hurt you if your body isn’t healed all the way.”

  “I’m sure, Grasso. Now please stop talking.”

  Not saying another word, I try to relax and close my eyes. Relying on my senses, I feel her fingers start to wander and trace over my erection. As I’m relishing in her touch, her hand effortlessly grasps around my member, while the other hand moves downward and starts massaging me. My mind is going ninety to nothing, and I know if she goes further, I’m done for.

  Her hand begins moving over my erection and stroking me. She fastens her grip tighter as she places her warm, moist mouth on me. As she manipulates her tongue in a circular motion, I can feel her hand starting to spread her saliva down my shaft and back up again. She continues for a few more
moments, teasing me until a low moan escapes from deep in my throat – then right on cue she proceeds to inhale every inch of me. Unable to take it anymore, I instantly sit up and place my hands in her hair, grabbing two fists full.

  I carefully pull her off me, saying, “Logan, I want you so bad; I need to be inside you.”

  Without saying a word, she slowly rises as I release my hands from her hair, not wanting to hurt her. I gently tug the string on the robe, and as it opens I see she is completely naked. I instantly think, as I look at her, how perfect she is; even with the scars.

  She notices and in a mousy voice asks, “What’s wrong, Michael?”

  “Nothing. I was just admiring the view.”

  Gently, I pull her into my arms and begin to kiss her, interlacing my hands back into her hair. Our tongues entwine as I slowly move her onto the bed, following me down until she’s lying by my side.

  She breaks from our kiss and runs her nose along my jawline.

  “Do you have any idea how exquisite your scent is, Logan? It’s irresistible.”

  I instantly feel her body press into mine, letting me know she’s ready. On cue, I slide one of my hands out of her hair and trail it down to her waist. Her skin is so smooth and soft. I lower my head and hungrily place her breast in my mouth. As I feel her body start to tremble beneath my touch, I tenderly guide my hand from her waist to her mound, sliding my finger through her folds, and begin to caress her. She lets out a soft gasp as I insert my finger, skillfully manipulating her most private parts, never letting up on the relentless teasing I’m inflicting on her breast as I feel her climaxing on my fingers.

  Breathlessly, I hear her say, “Michael, I need you. I want to feel you inside me.”

  I raise my head to look at her, and she clasps my face in her hands, pulling me up to her lips. As I begin to kiss her passionately, I feel her hand slide down and grab ahold of me, placing me right at her entrance. I lower myself down slowly, and from her tightness around my erection, I’m instantly reminded to ease my way in.

  She instantly finds my hands and inserts her fingers into mine as she begins to move, taking me in all the way, at a faster pace than I had planned. As she softly moans, I can no longer control myself, thrusting into her. I begin to move at a fast-steady pace, and an insatiable need washes over me while listening to the deep moans coming from her.

  Unable to hold it any longer, I break the kiss and tell her, “Cum again for me, Logan. I need to feel all of you.”

  No sooner than I utter the words she explodes, calling out my name, and I let go, filling her with every ounce of me until I’m completely spent. As I look down on her, she’s clinging to me, almost in exhaustion. Gently, I place soft kisses along her cheek, up to her mouth, and ask again, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m perfect, thanks for asking. I don’t mean to break the mood, but we need to wash up and get dressed, Michael. We’re going to be late.”

  Reluctantly, I shift off her and onto my side, saying, “I’ll call and let them know we’ll be a little late.”

  She chuckles softly and says, “Then get your big ass up. We don’t have time to play around anymore.”

  Looking at her, I shake my head almost in disbelief and do as I’m told, retrieving my clothes from the floor as I head to the shower. Somehow, I feel used, but in a good way.

  Logan

  After our visit with Abigaila this morning on the back patio, I knew I needed to figure out a way to relieve some of the tension between me and Michael. Once we made it back to the room, I quickly went into the bathroom to give us some space, knowing he was upset because I purposely let the cat out of the bag on how I have every intention of meeting with his brother. It was all too obvious by his body language, he was annoyed at the idea. I thought he was going to rub his scalp off as I watched him run his fingers through his hair. His mother ever so politely tried her best to change the subject, then Michael reluctantly followed her lead, leaving me pretty much sipping my coffee in silence.

  While in the bathroom, I stop to take a long look in the mirror at my naked body. The scars I now carry are something I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to. I’ve refused to allow Michael to see them up close since the night at the hospital, mainly because I’m not sure how he’ll feel about seeing my flesh all tattered up. Hell, I don’t even know how I feel about the sight of it. The scars are ugly, to say the least.

  It takes me a few minutes to muster the courage to put my bath robe on, with nothing else underneath. Then I look in the mirror and tell myself, “You will not let him win,” the same phrase I’ve said to myself many times in the past during my childhood, but I never thought I’d be saying it about someone in my future. I’d managed to guard myself carefully from any type of hurt ever since I was able to take care of myself on my own.

  I instantly begin to feel my past trying to bubble up and mix in with my new tortured experience, prompting me to say out loud, “No more self-pity. You’ve never been privileged enough to have any.”

  Then as I slowly take a deep breath, I turn and walk out of the bathroom with my game face on.

  I enter the room with a whole new purpose, determined to use what the good Lord gave me to get what I want, which more than anything is for John Broussard to pay for every person’s life he snuffed out from this Earth. I want him punished for what he did to Michael, and most of all, I have an undying need for him not only to pay but suffer for what he’s done to me. If that means I must walk into the lion’s den to accomplish this, then so be it.

  Now standing in the room, looking at Michael’s scars, I can tell right off the bat he’s become nervous. I’m sure he’s unsure, even afraid of us doing anything sexual, leaving me no choice but to take control of the situation. Reluctantly, he ended up giving in and doing exactly what I wanted, or should I say needed.

  For a moment in time, I managed to forget about all the horrible, gruesome events that had ever happened in my life, causing me to think how in a perfect world Michael would be the ideal guy for me to get serious with. Except my life has been tarnished for as long as I can remember, and the world is far from perfect. So, I’ve made the choice to play the cards I’ve been dealt, and I’m playing to win.

  When we finished having sex, Michael, being a typical guy, didn’t even realize I’d just used him for my own personal agenda. Now, when he talks to me later, I know he’ll be more receptive to what I have to say. And when all is said and done, he’ll end up going along with me meeting John, meaning the end will justify the means.

  It doesn’t take long before we’re both dressed and headed out the door.

  Michael calls Det. Tyler, letting him know we’re running a little late. As I listen, I think about how we really didn’t speak much while getting dressed, but I know he’ll start talking more once we’re in the car and on our way to the medical examiner’s office. I know Michael’s behavior like a book, so I don’t say much.

  As we’re heading down the stairs, Michael says, “Let’s check in with Abigaila and let her know we’re leaving for the rest of the day.”

  “Sure. Maybe after we leave the station, we can stop and grab something to eat?”

  He doesn’t answer right away, which catches my attention. I look up to find he’s scanning the rooms located at the bottom of the stairs, in search of his mother. No matter how much he tries to hide it, I know he cares deeply for her. I often wonder sometimes what they’ve been talking about all these mornings while I wasn’t around. Shaking off my thoughts, I begin looking around in hopes of spotting her.

  Continuing, I follow Michael as he heads towards the kitchen, where she usually is, instructing her staff on what the guests are wanting done. Sure enough, as we turn the corner, I spot her. She is kind of hard to miss, though, standing at least a good two to three inches taller than most of the workers. As she looks up in the middle of her sentence, she instantly sees us coming her way. Instinctively, her finger is slightly raised in the air, in a gesture to say, one second. Then
she places her attention back on the staff and finishes up the list of accommodations for the guest. Watching her now, I can tell she takes her job very seriously, particularly from the way she carries herself and her demeanor; I would dare to say, she would have made a very sharp businesswoman.

  After dismissing her staff, she starts to head towards us. I can’t help watching her legs as she makes her way over. There’s something striking about the way she moves. It’s reminds me of the ladies I grew up watching on television, the ones in old commercials. They were always rail thin, with long legs and wearing the tight pencil skirts that went right past the knee, silk blouses and a round hat. I distinctly recall when they walked in the commercials, it was as if they were gliding and floating. It’s the same way Michael’s mother walks, classic and timeless.

  She softly asks, “Are you two leaving?”

  Michael hurriedly answers, “Yes, we are running a little late. We just wanted to let you know we won’t be back until later in the evening.”

  Her soft smile never leaves her face as she says, “Well, make sure you two stay safe out in the woods. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

  Before Michael can respond, I jump in the conversation, “We will. Hopefully, we won’t be too late.”

  After she gives us both a small hug, we head out to the car. Exiting the bed and breakfast, I look up to the sky, noticing dark clouds starting to build. While opening my door to the passenger side of the car, I quickly say, “I sure hope it doesn’t rain on us today. Sugar melts, you know.”

  He begins to laugh and says, “Well, I better keep an umbrella on hand. I don’t want to risk ending up in a puddle on the ground. But don’t worry, Logan; shit floats.”

  “Oh Michael, aren’t you the smart ass this morning?”

  He looks at me for a split second, silently shaking his head as he starts the car and drives off. Subconsciously, I begin doing my ritual of playing with the radio, switching from station to station, never really stopping on one particular song, until it dawns on me to ask, “Do you know where the medical examiner’s office is located?”