by Kate Aster
“Keep that up and I won’t be able to stop.” His voice is gravelly as he reaches for the box on the nightstand.
“You don’t have to.”
“I do. The best part of sex with you is feeling you shatter when I’m inside you. You won’t deprive me of that.”
He’s sheathed himself and I’m still on top of him, straddling him as I take him in. I moan in satisfaction, feeling myself stretch to accommodate him. He feels so different when he’s beneath me and I’m the one in control. I whimper at the feel of him throbbing inside me. Sliding upward, my body immediately craves his length again, and I drop myself down on him so hard I feel him ram against my depths.
“Careful, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice, his tenderness, nearly have me coming undone in that very moment.
My lips meet his as my body moves again upward and then down again. I’m so wet around him, it’s stunning, making the motion so smooth and erotic. I wonder how fast he wants me to do this. Despite my vast knowledge of sex toys, there are so many things I really have yet to learn about pleasing a man with my own body. I want to learn all these things. From him.
Only from him.
“Tell me what to do,” I say.
His eyes widen slightly as he looks at me.
“Do you like it fast or slow?” I ask, hoping he won’t laugh at my question.
His smile is seductive. “Slow at first is nice, then fast just before I’m going to come. Fast and hard then.”
“And what else? What else do you like?” I’m curious now.
“I love to suck on you when you’re on top like this,” he says, arching his neck and taking a nipple in his mouth. His saliva practically sizzles on my skin as I move my breasts closer to him.
I murmur, “I like that,” and slide up and down on him slowly now, pressing him against my clit when he’s deep inside me. My muscles start to tighten up around him at the sensation. I drive him in deep again and again till I feel my eyelids lower, caught up in the sensation of having him throbbing inside of me as I feel his teeth and tongue toying with my nipple.
He pulls his mouth away from my breast and I nearly cry in protest. My nipple is wet with his saliva and my breast is pink from the pressure. Against the chill of the AC, the bud gets even harder, just as he takes my other breast in his mouth and suckles.
I’m so caught up in the sensation, that I nearly have to remind myself to move again. He’s spoiled me, I realize, always taking over in bed, letting me feel all the sensations without any of the effort. I crack a smile just at the thought of it.
What a wonderful way to be spoiled.
Lowering myself onto him again, I linger a little longer in the position, enjoying the pressure of where our bodies meet, and feeling my own need growing.
His mouth leaves my body again. “And I love to feel you come when I’m inside of you. It’s the most incredible sensation, Allie.”
I feel his cock throbbing just at the mention of it.
“Let me feel that now, baby,” he says.
I rub against him more, with him so deep inside me. He grabs my ass and shifts me slightly, causing his cock to ram up against my G spot. “Logan,” I cry out at the rush of need that suddenly consumes me. My channel seizes up around him.
“That’s it, baby. That’s it,” he urges, as I ride each wave of sensation, thrusting my body against him. The moment my pulsating ceases, he pushes me onto my back and thrusts deep and hard inside of me.
“What you do to me, Allie,” he says as he chases his own need now, driving himself into me so hard I can feel my own climax within reach again. Our bodies are slick as they move against each other, and every sensation seems magnified. Every nerve ending of my body is firing as my toes curl up and my pelvis arches.
My hands move to the span of muscles on his chest, then grazing along to his shoulders and over to his rippled back. So much power I feel beneath my fingertips as I caress him. So much power inside me, hard and desperate.
I can tell when he’s going to come now—I know the feel of him that well. I can sense the moment when his cock gets so hard that there’s no way he can hold back. And my own body instinctively rises to the same apex, ready to release the moment I feel him let go.
And let go he does, breathing out my name in unison with my cry as my body shudders beneath him, milking the orgasm for the pleasure it brings to every square inch of my flesh.
***
I’ve never actually had to run to catch an airplane. Most of the time, I tend to arrive way too early, playing games on my phone for at least an hour because I overestimated, again, how long it would take me to get through security.
Not so, today. Logan and I spent a little too long enjoying those last moments in our hotel room and found ourselves tearing across the airport corridor toward our gate. We literally made it within seconds before they shut the gate on us.
Well, maybe it was a minute or two. But when I tell the story to my friends, I’ll definitely say it was seconds.
Now, safe in our seats, I can only laugh as my heart pounds in my chest.
“I really need to workout more if I’m going to be chasing airplanes like this,” I say as I turn to him.
“I think our problem was that I gave you too much of a workout this morning as it is,” he responds with a chuckle, giving my seatbelt a tug to make sure it’s secure before he checks his own.
It’s little things like that that I love most about him.
My heart pinches slightly at that thought.
My eyes catch a glimpse of the Chesapeake Bay after the plane takes off, and then it turns to soar toward the landlocked Midwest where I’ve spent my entire life.
Logan belongs near the water—in a place like Annapolis or his beloved San Diego. And it’s only a matter of time before he outgrows this land-tolerant phase he’s going through and realizes it’s time for him to be where he is destined to be.
Far away from me.
I love my life in Ohio. Even though the lure of the Bay and the incredible scenery I enjoyed this weekend is tempting, Newton’s Creek is where I’ve started planting my roots. I have my organization there, my two jobs, my wonderful friends. My memories of my dad.
I glance at him as he puts his seat in the reclining position, struggling to stretch his legs in the tight quarters. “Next time, you’re not talking me out of first class,” he says, darting me a meaningful look.
A smile eases up my face at the sound of his low, teasing laughter.
I’d leave the Midwest in a heartbeat to be with Logan, I realize. But would I regret it?
I give my head a slight shake. No matter. Logan’s never even told me he loves me, much less asked if I’d be comfortable following him someplace other than Ohio.
The flight attendant passes me a soda and I thank her, grateful for the cool liquid to snap me back to reality.
It’s hard to not think about the future after going to a wedding, so I cut myself some slack, ripping into the small plastic bag of pretzels I’ve just been handed.
Logan passes me his bag. “I’m sorry we didn’t leave in time to catch lunch.”
“I’m fine. I’d much rather have been in bed with you than sitting in some airport food court.” I can feel my heartbeat picking up its pace even at the recollection.
He intertwines his fingers with mine, and I look down at our hands, realizing how perfectly they fit together. His hands are so much bigger than mine, it should look like I’m being swallowed up in his grasp. Yet it doesn’t. It just looks right.
“Thank you so much for taking me, Logan.”
“You’ve said that enough already. Thank you for going. I never would have come if you hadn’t joined me. Maeve told me specifically that she owes you for that. Anytime you want to visit wherever they happened to be living, you’ll have a place to stay.”
I grin. “Any chance I could convince Jack to take a job in Hawaii, then?”
He laughs. “Plenty of Navy presence there. Is
that where you’d like to live one day?”
I shrug. “I’ve never even been there, so I can’t really say. But I think it would at least be a nice place to visit.”
“Beyond nice. It’s paradise. Quite literally, paradise.”
As our flight soars away from the coastline, Logan tells me all about the places he lived while he was in the Navy. I love to hear him talk about his past this way, with joy in his eyes rather than the fury and guilt I see when he talks about his final year with the SEALs.
His words have me on a journey to Monterey and Miami. To Germany and Australia. I settle into my seat, resting my head against his shoulder as he talks, his calm voice lulling me to sleep and my hormones getting me riled up at the same time.
I wonder how one would go about getting into the mile-high club while flying coach? A laugh bubbles up inside of me at the thought, but I tamp it back down, not anxious to interrupt the images of faraway places that Logan is painting in my head.
I am completely lost to him.
The landscape outside my window starts to look more familiar, vast stretches of crops sliced into perfect geometric shapes by rural roads. I’m excited to see home approaching, anxious to check my email and phone messages, find out how our dogs are doing, and tell my friends about the incredible weekend I had.
The best weekend of my life, actually.
I grip the armrests tightly as we begin our final approach. I don’t mind flying. But the landing part kind of throws me. Seeing my white knuckles, Logan takes my hand in his, and immediately all the anxiety flows outward from my body. His presence has so much power over me.
Our plane touches down and the brakes slam, and I squeeze Logan’s hand in response till we come to a near stop, taxiing slowly to the gate. He looks at me. “Welcome home, Allie.”
“It’s good to be home.” With you, I want to add, but I don’t. But it’s undeniable. Home is so much better with Logan.
We’re herded like cattle off the plane and toward baggage claim, and I pull my phone from my purse to check in.
I turn it back on and see a text message from my realtor pop up. “Allie, I’ve got news. Call me.”
My heart lurches and I grab Logan to steady myself.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I heard from my realtor.”
“What did she say?”
“Just that she has news and to call her.”
His eyes light up, and he seems as excited as I am right now. “Well, call her. Right now. I’ll keep an eye out for the bags.”
I punch in her number. As her phone rings, I overanalyze her text. If it is good news, wouldn’t she just write it in the text? Or maybe she’d be more likely to want to tell me good news directly? I have no idea, and panic as she doesn’t answer. It will kill me if I have to leave a message and wait for her reply.
“Jackie Swanson,” she finally answers, and I sigh with relief.
“Jackie, it’s Allie. I just got off the plane and got your message.”
“Oh, Allie, I’m afraid it’s not good. You were outbid. The property has gone to someone else.”
I feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I search for Logan, needing to cling to something, someone. He’s headed back my way, dragging our bags, with concern in his eyes when he sees my face.
As a tear drops onto my cheek, his face falls. He knows.
“I’m so sorry, Allie,” I hear Jackie’s voice in my ear, but I can barely respond. “I know how much you wanted that property.”
I nod, even though I know she can’t see it. “Thanks, Jackie.” My eyes are locked on Logan and he wraps his arm over my shoulder and gives me a reassuring squeeze. At least I have Logan. The thought flits through my mind, as though a life preserver has been tossed to me as I drown.
But I wanted that kennel so badly I could taste it. It was my dream. And now that’s all it will ever be.
“If it makes you feel any better, you never could have outbid the buyer,” Jackie says in my ear. “It was JLS Heartland. You know, that big housing developer. They’re tearing it down and building some houses.”
My blood drains from my face. “Who? Who did you say?” I ask her, unwilling to believe it.
“JLS Heartland. They’re huge around here. They’re buying up a lot of land in Newton’s Creek, I guess because it’s caught the eye of commuters and land’s cheap here. I’m so sorry, Allie. You can’t win against a company like that.”
I hear a whirring sound in my head as blood saturates my brain, making me light-headed. It’s the same loud noise between my ears that I heard on the airplane from the engines. But my feet are flat on the ground. I reach out and touch the handle of my suitcase just to see if I can feel it, to convince myself I’m not having a bad dream. But I can feel the cool, hard plastic in my hand.
Logan’s family’s company outbid me. My mind races, trying to remember if I ever told his family about my plans for the bankrupt kennel. But I didn’t.
I only told Logan.
“Again, I’m so sorry, Allie. You call me if you want to start looking at some other property for your rescue. I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
A wonderful idea that will never come to pass. I can’t afford to buy land and build something new. I could barely afford the lowball bid I made on the foreclosure. “Thanks, Jackie.”
I turn off the phone and am unable to look Logan in the eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Allie. I take it you didn’t get it,” he says.
“No.” My voice is soft, breathless, with the wind knocked from my lungs.
“Someone else bid more?”
I can’t answer him for a moment. I just stare at the dirty floor of the baggage claim and let the sounds of people coming and going flow over me. Finally opening my mouth, I whisper, “JLS Heartland.”
In my peripheral vision, I can see his head tilt with awareness. “What?”
“JLS Heartland,” I repeat, finally looking at his eyes, trying to see if he had any idea this could have happened. “JLS Heartland bought the land. They’re tearing it down and building a housing development.”
“Son of a bitch.” The curse escapes him, and his eyes are daggers as he looks off into the distance somewhere. “Dammit, Allie. I had no idea they were eyeing that property.”
I search his eyes, looking for deceit. But as always, there’s none there. This is as much a shock to him as it is to me. “Did you tell your family what I was planning?”
He presses his lips together in thought, and shakes his head slowly. “No. No, I—” he pauses. “I know I told them you wanted to build a rescue kennel for your dogs.” His brow furrows sharply. “I might have told them you bid on a foreclosure, though. Dammit, Allie, I’m not sure if I gave any details. But it would be natural for me to tell them.”
He takes my chilled hand in his. “They never would have done this if they knew you were the other bidder, Allie. Even Ryan wouldn’t. He’s all business, but he doesn’t skulk around behind people’s backs. If he knew you were bidding on something they were interested in, he would have said something.”
I look at him, my heart aching, knowing that he’s trying to convince himself as much as me.
“I’ll figure this out, Allie. I’ll find a way to fix this.”
I hear his words, but I know it’s futile. I wrapped up everything I had in that dream, and now I have nothing to show for it but heartbreak.
- LOGAN -
I step into the massive complex that is the heart of my family heritage and feel nothing but anger as I storm toward the directory. It says a lot about how often I come into this building that I have to look at the directory to even know what floor my brother’s office is on. I haven’t been in here in years. Nearly a decade, actually, and the place looks completely different now. It’s a sleek modern fortress, intimidating and pretentious.
I spot the office of the CEO listed. Top floor, of course, I think, realizing I should have been able to guess that. My feet pound against marble
floors that glimmer in the sun that shines through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lobby.
Not a single fingerprint mars the mirrored elevator as I step in and press the button. My fingers are cold, wanting desperately to curl into a fist and punch my brother. Did he know? I want so much to believe that he didn’t.
As the elevator doors open, I’m greeted by a slick granite reception desk and a young woman in the tight ponytail and trim suit who asks if she can help me.
“Yes, I’m Jacob Sheridan, Jr. and I’m here to see my brother.”
Her eyes widen at that, and I’m partly surprised, having wondered if the people here even knew I existed. It wouldn’t be their fault if they didn’t. I’ve been the family recluse for so long, hiding out under the auspices of the U.S. Navy.
Nodding, she lifts her phone and tells someone I’m here.
She offers a seat to me, but I prefer to stand. I’ve got too much rage coursing inside my veins to sit in the soft chair she gestures toward, or sip on the coffee she offers to bring me.
An older woman approaches. “Mr. Sheridan?” she asks.
“Call me Logan, actually. I go by my middle name.”
“Of course. I’m Deborah, your brother’s assistant. Let me walk you back.” She signals for me to enter the long hallway and I spot the imposing double doors at the end. So this is where my brother hangs out these days, I ponder.
“You look so much like your mother. You have her eyes,” she says. She looks to be in her early sixties, the kind of woman who might have photos of her grandchildren framed and sitting on her desk. I decide to like her. “She’s such a lovely woman—your mother,” she continues.
We stop outside his door and she taps before she opens it for me. I spot him on the other side of a large mahogany desk, a desk I can imagine my father sat behind in the not-too-distant past.
“Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Sheridan,” she says and shuts the door behind me.
