by Aubrey Irons
But of course, we’re also still sneaking around and playing this big game of secrets about the whole thing. I mean, Reagan obviously knows by this point, but I’m still pretty sure that she hasn’t told her husband yet as evident by the distinct lack of Hudson beating me to death with my own arms. Secrets in-and-of themselves aren’t new to me; years of assuming a new name and a new life is a pretty good classroom for keeping truths hidden away. But there’s also not a whole lot I don’t tell Hudson and Bryce, so to be adding this on top of the whole Javier thing gets under my skin in this weird way.
But it’s fun, and it’s wild, and I know somewhere deep inside that it’s probably more than that, but neither Quinn or I are touching on that particular facet of it. I catch myself worrying that the thrill of it being this secret affair type thing is what’s fueling the fire between. I wonder if Quinn is just viewing this whole thing as some sort of ongoing casual fling; that little good-girl Quinn’s got a temporary taste for playing with the bad boy. But that train of thought of course leads down an entirely new rabbit hole; one where I’m actually having thoughts about whether some girl likes me or not.
Yeah, there’s nothing about any of that kind of thinking that’s me. But then of course, there’s nothing “some girl” about Quinn, either. She’s just too amazing, in that way where it’s clear she doesn’t quite see that herself. Beyond that, fuck is she sexy; again, in a way where it’s clear she doesn’t quite get that either.
So yeah, generally you could say there’s nothing normal about this relationship.
Yeah, relationship; because sneaking around like we’re having some sort of illicit affair and fucking around like teenagers in every private and even semi-public place we can find is exactly how you’d define a healthy a relationship, right?
Right.
“Stop!” Quinn looks at me with wide, wild looking eyes as she covers the phone receiver and hisses at me.
“What?” I whisper right back, shrugging and resuming the slow advance of my hand up the inside of her thigh under her skirt.
“Absolutely, absolutely; well, we’ll need to monitor infection rates in the clinical trials, but it does look promising.”
Quinn’s on some phone call - actually on what I gather is a fairly important phone call - with someone in D.C. about a vaccination we might be investing in. Of course the importance of this call does nothing to curb the fact that I’m still alone in a room with Quinn Archer, and as such, I’m naturally taking every liberty I can to be as inappropriately hands-y as possible.
Naturally.
Because lingering worries about the nature of our “relationship” aside, I can’t get enough of this girl. It’s bad enough in public, or while we’re in a meeting or something. But here in her office with the door shut and her wearing that little pin-stripe pencil skirt? Yeah, forget it. Her ass just looks too fucking incredible in that thing as she stands by the window talking on the phone, and I am apparently not a strong-willed man when it comes to forbidden, auburn-haired girls wearing ass-hugging pencil skirts.
“Logan!” She hisses again, looking at me like I’m insane as she nods at something to do with the phone conversation; “Certainly, certainly. No, I’ve got time to go over the analysis now; sure.”
Let’s hope you can multitask, Doc, I grin to myself.
My hand slides up even higher, and she shivers as my fingers find the warm front of her panties. I push gently against the softness there, feeling her squirm as I start to slowly rub her slit through the cotton of her underwear. Feeling how wet she is immediately has me rock hard in seconds.
“Well, preliminary testing has positive neurological feedback.” Quinn’s eyes close as she clearly struggles to keep the even tone in her voice while I rub her pussy; “Mhmm, no, the Watson trials for sure.” Her lip trembles as I hook my finger through the gusset of her panties and slowly begin to tug them down to her mid thighs. But she’s still talking over the phone, and I grin, actually impressed with how normal her voice is sounding despite the fact that her face and her body look like she’s dying to get fucked right here and now.
I push her forward, one of her palms flat against the glass of her big office window as she bends at the waist while still holding the phone. She turns over her shoulder, her eyes wide in shock and arousal as she stares at me before nodding at something to do with her conversation and turning back. I drop to my knees behind her, pushing her skirt up over her ass and pulling her back towards me. I take a second to appreciate the pure, unbridled eroticism of this view.
“Well, the secondary analysis could be an indication of- oh!” Quinn does her best to cover her moan as my mouth finds her dripping wet lips; “Mhmm, no, just some hot coffee.” She whirls her head back to stare at me mouthing “oh my God” at me as I grin before pushing my face back between her thighs.
I inhale the intoxicating scent of her, slipping my tongue through her folds to taste her sweetness as I feel her shudder against me. My hands grab her ass, kneading the flesh there and coaxing her back and forth against my mouth, as if fucking her with my tongue. She’s rocking back against me, her fingers scratching at the windowpane in front of her as she arches her back and pushed against my tongue.
“Mhmm, yes absolutely. The research is- uh, it’s there, we just- mmm, we just need to- um, expand on it.”
I slip lower, teasing her clit with the tip of my tongue before wrapping my lips around her there and sucking as I feel her shudder against me. She’s putting up a valiant fight to keep this phone call going, but its’s a fight I’m doing my damnedest to make her lose sooner or later. And when I curl my tongue around her hard little clit and slide a finger deep into her channel, she actually has to hold the phone away from her mouth as she gasps out loud.
“I- I’m sorry, but I have to call you back in a minute,” She manages to gasp out, before hanging up and dropping the phone to the floor; “Fuck, Logan!” She moans, pressing her hands against the glass in front of her and crying out as she pushes back against my tongue and my finger.
And all it take is five more seconds of my tongue sliding over her hard little nub and my finger curling against that spot inside before she’s turning her head to bite her own shoulder. Her muffled moans come ragged against the sleeve of her blouse as I push her over the edge, and she comes in shuddering, exploding elegance against my tongue.
Her hair is loosed from the normally conservative bun atop her head and cascades over her face as she closes her eyes and sucks in breaths of air, but I’m already standing and tearing at my belt buckle. I’m rock hard as my pants hit the ground, and as I slip the head of my cock against her opening, I lean over her to whisper into her ear; “You can go ahead and call them back in a minute, darlin, but something tells me it’s going to be a bit longer than that.”
And it damn well is.
“So, you two seem like you’re fitting together nicely.”
I almost choke on my steak as I quickly glance up across the table at Hudson. He’s grinning at me, but I’m certain it’s more of a ‘I told you so’ look than a ‘hey buddy, I know you’re fucking Quinn’ look. He’s also not jumping over the table to murder me with his salad fork, so that’s a pretty good indication of choice number one.
Of course, that doesn’t mean my pulse isn’t pounding like a fucking racehorse now. Yeah, dinner out with Hudson and Reagan, and Quinn was probably not a great plan. I’m sure this has double-date written all over it to anyone else in the restaurant, or our waiter for that matter, and that simple fact has me on wild edge right now. Fooling around like teenagers all over town and in the office is one thing, but playing couple out in public has this strange sort of serious undertone to it that has me more confused than it should.
And then there’s also something about the way that Reagan’s curious gaze keeps lingering a little longer on me than necessary. I know she’s no idiot; even if she doesn’t explicitly know - and I’m pretty sure she does - she pretty obviously has a good idea. I’ll grant t
hough that she probably hasn’t said anything to Hudson yet or he’d have tossed me out a window already.
The thought of that actually pisses me off a little bit. Here I am sneaking around with this girl like it’s a big damn taboo thing, when he’s up and married another of the Old Man’s daughters. But he and Reagan look so fucking happy, and hell, he broke whatever rules we had first. ‘Protect them’; I mean don’t think William exactly meant ‘don’t date my daughters’ with those words, but I seriously doubt he’d be impressed with a roughneck grunt like me fooling around with Quinn like this. It’s different with Hudson and Reagan. Hud’s learned to deal with his shit, instead of like me who just hides it.
My cellphone buzzes in my pocket, and as I take it out and glance at it, I’m suddenly reminded of exactly what I’m hiding; reminded like a slug to the gut.
I scowl at Javier’s text under the table, gritting my teeth. Fighting has always been a thrill to me; there’s this rush of pure reality when you connect, or even when someone connects with you. But now, fuck, now it’s just this thing I have to do; like a jail sentence I just can’t get through. I’m over it, but its not over me, apparently.
I glance at the address on my screen - some shit-hole part of the South Bronx - and stand from the table as I clear my throat; “I, uh, I’ve gotta run and do something.”
Hudson frowns; “Aw, what the hell, man? We went over those shipping contracts all afternoon; we’re done with business for the day.” He shakes his head; “Sit your ass down and be normal.”
“It’s- uh, it’s a date actually.” I say, raking my hand through my hair and trying not to look as guilty as I feel.
“Oh!” Hudson looks up from his plate and grins at me; “Well, shit, get going then!”
Reagan’s eyes narrow at me; “Good for you, Logan,” She says dryly, and I swallow and clear my throat again uncomfortably. Yeah, she definitely knows.
I glance quickly at Quinn and see the frozen look on her face as she avoids my eyes and pushes food around her plate with her fork. She knows what this is.
“Uh, so, OK then. I’ll see you guys later on?” I force a casual smile out at the table, but my eyes keep darting back to Quinn, who still won’t look at me.
“Yeah, see ya,” She finally mumbles out, looking away and taking a sip of wine.
*****
It’s not until I’m about to climb into my car at the valet stand when I hear her shout my name as she comes running out of the restaurant. Her face looks white as she shakes her head when I turn to her, and it feels like a stab through my chest.
“Don’t go,” She says pleadingly.
“Quinn-”
“Just don’t go? You don’t have to fucking do this! Please, Logan! Please don’t do this.”
“I have to.”
And I can’t tell you why, and I know you’re going to hate me for that.
I can’t, though. Telling her everything would mean losing her. This might mean the same thing, but at least this way she just thinks I’m an asshole instead of knowing the utter piece of scum I was before. And if I have to lose her anyways, I’m sure as hell not going to let her into that part of me if I can help it; for her sake.
“I have to go, Quinn.” I say quietly.
“Please.” Her eyes are wide and searching my face for something that I know she’s just not going to find; not right now. “For me,” She says, and it’s like someone’s just punched me in the face; “For me, don’t go.”
It’s all for you, I think, tightening my jaw as I look into those deep pools of her eyes.
“Here,” I fish the keys to my penthouse out of my jacket pocket and push them into her hands; “It’s still partially under construction, but you can stay at my place.” She’s shaking her head and looking away from me with all the pain I know she’s feeling in her eyes; “Quinn, I’ll meet you there later; it’ll be fine.”
She takes the keys, but she’s turning and slipping out of my hands and walking back inside; “It’s going to be fine!” I lie, calling out to her. She turns and gives me one last lingering look full of hurt and pain, and it kills me because lying to her face hurts the worst, worse than I know its going to hurt later.
*****
When I’m stepping into the ring later, sweat already pouring down my bare chest in the rush of the moment, the lights bright and the guy across from me looking like he wants to bury me, that last look from Quinn is the only thing I can see.
I’m supposed to win this one, but I just don’t fucking care anymore. Javier is screaming bloody murder at me from outside the ropes, but I ignore him and just take the beating. I barely put up blocks as the guy I’m fighting hits me again, and again, and again, numbing the pain. It’s sweet release with every hit; like the punishment I get and deserve for fucking up my own rules and breaking her heart.
Quinn-
I stagger back from the solid hit, blinking as the guy advances on me, his fists raised.
Quinn, I’m sorry.
It’s the last thought I have before I hit the ground, and it all goes black.
I’m awake when he comes home later. Well, I’m fairly sure I’m asleep at first actually, curled up in the large couch in his study. But the loud crash and the sound of shattering glass has me bolting from my sleep and from the couch with wide eyes and my breath in my throat as I dash towards the sounds. A cold chill seizes my heart as I round the corner, and my hands fly to my mouth when I see Logan slumped over on the floor next to a broken lamp.
Oh, God-
I’m running into the room, and I’m at least four steps in when I shriek as I realize we’re not alone, and the scream hitches like cold water in my throat.
“Well hello there, bonita.” Javier has his arms crossed over his chest and a predatory glint in his eyes as he grins at me, backed by two big looking guys who look incapable of smiling. I’m freezing mid step, and I glance back towards the doorway as Javier laughs; “Aww, now don’t go leavin the party just yet, chica. You just got here!”
He blows me a kiss that has my skin crawling, and one of his guys is stepping behind me to block the doorway.
“Get the fuck away from her, or I’ll-“
I scream and Logan grunts as Javier strides over and cuts him off with a kick to the ribs; “You’ll do what now?” He says with a leering grin down at Logan; “So sorry cabrón, I think you mumbled that last bit.” Logan grits his teeth and glares up the man, but Javier only laughs again and turns towards me. I can feel the blood pounding in my ears.
I’m suddenly keenly aware that this is a world I know nothing about, and that I’m so far out of my element with seeing actual mobsters - or whatever these guys are - inflicting real violence. I immediately think of my time as a med student working the late-night E.R. shift and patching up all manner of stabbings, or busted faces, or cracked ribs from people fighting. But I’ve only ever seen the aftermath, and seeing the first part being enacted right here in the supposed safety of Logan’s home is almost too surreal to even take in.
“Sorry if we woke you, baby,” Javier says, his eyes drifting down over my t-shirt and making me shiver uncomfortably; “We just had to bring your boyfriend back home.” He mimes tossing a drink back; “Think he had a bit too many,” he finished with a wink. “But hey, listen, I could do with a little nightcap if you wanted, honey.” The wicked look on his face has my heart pounding in my ears like a freight train as I slowly take a step back and narrow my eyes at him; “Don’t you fucking touch me.” I hiss.
Logan makes another move on the floor, but one of Javier’s guys keeps him down with a booted foot on his chest as they all laugh.
