by Lulu Pratt
“Ugh,” I groan, willing myself to wake up.
“I need you,” he says as his finger slips beneath my panties, teasing my hip bone.
Wiggling my hips, I ease the lace down my legs, feeling his moist tip the second I’m naked.
“Don’t sleep in these,” Logan whispers, throwing my panties out of the bed. Still lying in the spooning position, he inches his long erection inside of me, stretching me to my max.
“Mmm,” I moan at the fullness.
There’s nothing quite like those initial strokes, when my juices first begin to coat his length, making each thrust better and slipperier than the last.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Logan groans in my ear, his voice warm and throaty.
My words are lost as my body wakes up, rocking in unison with him, while he grips my breast with one hand, using the other to gently tug a fistful of my hair.
“God,” I groan, pushing my ass back to meet him for more.
“Ugh,” he grunts, urging my head forward to bend me over, as we remain on our sides.
“Ahh, Logan,” I cry out. He’s even deeper from this angle, penetrating a new spot he’s yet to reach and it feels amazing.
“You’re so juicy in the morning,” he groans, tugging at my hair harder now as his pace increases and my climax peaks its head from the depths of my stomach.
“You’re so deep,” I sigh, feeling him in every inch of my soul.
“That’s where I’m supposed to be,” he growls, growing more aggressive by the second, and it turns me on.
Without a word of instruction, or a break in rhythm, we switch positions as I climb onto my knees and he slams into me even harder, his balls slapping my clitoris.
“Yes!” I yell unexpectedly, but he feels so good, stimulating all my hot spots.
“I need to feel you come, Ava,” Logan barks between plunges into the depths of my sweetness.
“Ahh! Logan!”
“What, baby?” he asks in the sweetest voice as he tears into me recklessly, his balls slapping the epicenter of my pleasure rapidly.
“Fuck,” I bite out, the pleasure too good to bear.
“Watch your mouth!” he says, slapping my ass hard, and it hurts so good.
“Ahh!” I cry, my climax inching to the edge.
“You like that?” he asks, gripping my hips to pull me into him as I arch my back seductively. His hand slaps across my ass again and I groan in pleasure, launching my body back.
“You want more?” he yells while fucking me hard and fast.
“Yes!” I plead, my waves of pleasure just inches from an explosion.
“Tell me you like it.”
“I like it!” I moan desperately, needing the pain to cut the overload of sensation.
His hand drops swiftly on my ass again, a loud smack ringing in my ears as my skin stings from the impact.
“Tell me you love it!” he yells, both of our bodies colliding in an urgent chase.
“I love it! Logan, I love it,” I cry and he fucks me so hard and so fast, lifting me from the bed so my knees dangle in the air. My vision blurs from the speed until I spiral out of control, an orgasm so intense I feel dizzy as my body overflows with emotion.
“Give it to me, Ava!” Logan yells just as I fall over the edge.
“I’m coming!”
“Good fucking girl,” he grunts, and I feel him begin to come inside me before his body slams one last time and stills, his hips slowly trying to bury his length further inside of me as he growls through his release like an animal.
My sex clenches around him, the masculine noises of pleasure carrying my climax to new levels.
“Fuck, that was good,” Logan groans, pulling out of me before climbing from the bed and walking into the bathroom while I struggle to find the energy to roll over.
Returning with a gray hand towel, Logan delicately wipes my sex with warm water before giving me a quick kiss and rushing off to shower.
Stretching out in bed, I feel nothing short of amazing as I listen to the water run while Logan gets ready for his day.
Suddenly, I have an urge to surprise him when he comes home from his meetings. If he wants to spoil me, this was the perfect way to wake me up, because now I want to continue the royal treatment.
Rolling over to Logan’s side of the bed, I pick up the phone, dialing the front desk.
“How can I help you? Are you ready for breakfast?” Our private concierge answers happily.
“Umm, yeah, sure. Please bring some small things like muffins and danishes, and then, in an hour I’d like French toast,” I bite my lip guiltily as I order for myself.
“No problem. Will that be all?”
“I’d also like to schedule a spa day, but I want the works. Massage, facial, hair, the whole package, please,” I glance over at the bathroom as the shower stops.
“I know just the place. I’ll arrange everything.”
“Great. I’ll call you back after breakfast for the details.”
“Sounds great, Mrs. Draper. Talk soon!” he says cheerily before ending the call.
My heart flutters from him calling me that, and I roll my eyes at my emotionally overloaded self.
There’s nothing like a good morning orgasm to knock you head over heels. I feel I can conquer the world. I only wish Logan could spend a little time with me.
Reminding myself that this is a work trip for him, I make a conscious effort not to be a downer. I want to be the happiness he rushes home to, not the nag he bolts to get away from.
“What are you going to do today?” Logan asks, startling me from my thoughts.
“I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”
“I want to take you out. We can spend the whole evening together. Is that okay?” he genuinely asks like there’s anything else in the world I would rather do than be with him.
Just then I hear a door close out in the common area followed by deep voices. It never occurred to me that his staff would be out there this morning.
“Did they hear us, Logan?” I ask, mortified.
“No,” Logan chuckles, drying his hair with a hand towel.
“How do you know?”
“Because I went to sleep knowing how I was going to wake you up so I told them not to come over until I called,” he raises his eyebrows mischievously.
“You’re trouble. You know that?” I say, shaking my head.
“Only the best kind,” he leans down, pressing his lips to mine as his minty breath permeates my airways.
Watching him dress is strangely erotic, and from the peculiar glares he shoots my way, I know he can tell how much I’m enjoying the show.
“See something you like?” he asks jokingly.
“Mmm-hmm. A whole lot I like, actually.”
Between our laughs and staredowns, Logan dresses in a tailored black suit that fits him like a glove. He’s handsome in anything he wears, but seeing him in a suit is mind blowing.
“Which one?” he asks, holding a black tie in one hand and a red and black tie in the other.
“All black. Classic,” I say.
“That’s what I thought too,” he agrees, hanging the other option back in the closet before tying the black one so fast it’s crooked.
“Come here,” I call him over to the bed, rising on my knees to meet him.
“What’s up?” he asks as he walks to me.
“Your tie is crooked,” I explain, loosening the knot before retightening it correctly while Logan pinches my nipples, teasing me with his fingertips.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers before kissing my cheek as I flatten out his collar, blushing from his attention.
“You couldn’t resist, could you?” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I can’t control myself when you’re naked.” He shakes his head, looking down at his bulging crotch.
“You’re an animal.”
“Only for you.” He kisses my neck and then returns to his closet, selecting a watch before grabbing his
wallet and sliding it into his suit jacket.
“What time should I be expecting you?”
“Let’s shoot for seven. I’ll try to be early, but I’ll call if I’m going to be late. Cool?” He looks over at me.
“Cool.”
“Okay, here’s this,” he holds up another envelope and I pretend to pass out on the bed.
“Don’t start,” he says softly, leaning over the bed to kiss me.
“We never did talk about it like we said we would.”
“I thought I settled everything this morning,” he slides his palm down my belly as he speaks, and my legs fall apart for him to barely graze my sex.
“You did.”
“Then have fun with it since I can’t have fun with you,” he kisses me once more.
“Miss me,” I bite my lip, completely smitten with him.
“Always,” is the last thing he says before winking at me on his way out the door.
The happiness I feel is debilitating. My body is numb, yet over stimulated all at the same time. I’m sad to see him leave, but excited to be able to surprise him when he gets back.
Everything is moving so fast, but I’d be lying if I said I wanted it to slow the least bit. Things are perfect, and I feel completely encompassed in a cocoon of unadulterated bliss.
Chapter 28
Ava
As I step out of the shower, the bell to our suite sounds throughout our room. It’s so much like an apartment that they’ve decided to include a doorbell. The thought makes me shake my head as I hurry to answer.
“Good morning, Ava,” Joey, our concierge, greets me correctly this time. As much as I enjoyed being referred to as Logan’s wife, I prefer my first name.
“Good morning,” I smile, stepping aside to welcome Joey and the young bellboy behind him into the suite.
The younger man rolls a small table covered with a white tablecloth, topped with a covered dish that is sure to be my breakfast.
“I’ve set appointments for everything you requested,” Joey says as he grips his notebook tightly, excited to share his plans.
After Logan left, I called back to include shopping for a dress to my itinerary, and Joey recommended a full-on make-over. Never shying away from a day of pampering, I agreed.
“After breakfast, you’ll head to your spa and beauty treatment. From there, you’ll be transported to the Intersection at Paddington, which is one of the best shopping districts in the city.” He is reading from his list as I pour maple syrup over my French toast, nodding along.
“Your personal shopper will have everything lined up so you don’t have to spend time hopping from store to store, but upon Mr. Draper’s request, I’ve given her an unlimited budget,” he nervously glances up at me as I freeze with the fork full of sugary goodness on the way to my mouth.
“Joey! I told you this was a secret!”
“No, no, Ava. Mr. Draper told me this before you even arrived – no expense is to be spared for you. I think he knew you’d be into some good trouble like this,” he says.
Logan told me the Four Seasons is known for their high-end restaurants, but I really wasn’t expecting everything to be so delicious. Between dinner last night and this thick French toast, which Joey was sure to inform me was made from freshly baked bread, I could live here forever just for the food.
“It won’t be a lot of moving around, as you requested, but the first half of your beauty portion will take up the bulk of the day,” he says.
“What’d you tell Rodrick?” I ask, after using him as a cover to ditch my tail for the day.
“I’ve told him about your plans for the most part, but I don’t think it made much sense to him. In his book, you’re taking a girl day. So, he’ll always know where you are, but I’ve made it so he has no idea any of it is specifically for tonight,” Joey beams. I can tell he loves what he does, and I honestly can’t blame him – planning for the rich and famous must be a fun job.
My spa day begins with an hour-long massage, as I groan and stretch out all the kinks from Logan bending and twisting me all morning.
I can sense the confusion on my young massage therapist’s face when she registers the bright pink mark on my ass, but thankfully she doesn’t mention it.
Afterwards, another woman walks in, applying a thick paste-like substance to my face, which smells of peppermint. With her hand extended, she offers to help me off the bed, but I’m full naked, under my towel, so I freeze with insecurity.
“We’ll just go into your exfoliation. You can bring your towel,” she smiles kindly, probably having to deal with people’s apprehensions daily.
Carefully wrapping myself in the thick brown towel, I follow her to the next room, which includes a large white tub that appears to float above a bed of rocks. It’s so beautiful that I pause as the woman readies all her accessories on a side table.
“You’ll just need to step into the tub,” she says with a smile.
I smile at her professionalism while giving such basic instructions. I’m quite confident she scrubs every cell of dead flesh from my body, and it feels incredible to be pampered. The spa is completely top of the line, fancier than anywhere I’ve ever been for sure. Once I’m finished, she takes me to a salon area, where a bubbling blonde greets me at the door.
“You must be Ava, I’m Sherry, it’s so nice to meet you.” She grins so wide it almost makes me uncomfortable.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I extend my hand, but she wraps me in a bear hug instead.
“Your hair is gorgeous, but I think we should add some highlights to give it a bit of volume,” she talks more to my hair than me as her hands ruffle through my waves.
“Whatever you think is best,” I shrug, never one to care too much about my hair.
“Okay, so we’ll do some layers, and undertones, you’ll love it!” She smiles and I nod, giving her free rein on the decisions.
“Should I just take a seat?” I look to the salon behind her as she continues to study my hair. There are three other women having their hair dyed or blow dried, so I figure that’s where I’ll be heading. Sherry looks behind her before returning to me with an odd look.
She leans in and says quietly, “Oh no, they’re just typical clients. You’re in the VIP room, just pick your polish, and let me know when you’re ready,” she says, gesturing to a wall of colors.
There are so many options, it’s difficult to choose, but I decide on a pale pink before returning to Sherry, who then walks me to a small room in the back of the salon.
Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, the salon chair sits on a circular-shaped pedestal that appears to move as one unit, with a foot spa attached, as well as small vibrating bowls of warm water at the end of the armrests.
Two other women quickly join the room, one kneeling to give me a pedicure, while the other tends to my nails as Sherry runs her fingers through my hair.
Sherry begins by applying a strong-smelling dye to sections of my hair as she rambles on about Sydney between her questions regarding my stay.
“So, you’ve never been here before?” she asks.
“No, it’s a first for me,” I reveal as she tugs on a piece of my hair before coating it in the concoction and wrapping it in aluminum foil.
“One day I have to come and visit Los Angeles. It’s the city of angels!”
“Oh, you have to. I’ll happily show you around,” I boast as if I know more about the city than I do.
It makes me think of Petra, my tour guide and confidant throughout my years in the city people dream about visiting just as I had as a child. Although I’ve checked my email daily, I haven’t heard a peep from her, and I’ve stayed mum on my side as well. There’s so much to be said, but each time I attempt to write her a message, I get lost and find myself speechless. Perhaps it’s just something that must be discussed in person, and so I decide to put it off until I get home.
Spinning the chair around, Sherry lowers the backrest until my head relaxes on the dip of a
porcelain sink, warm water washing over my hair as she massages my scalp while the other women continue to work.
Throughout blow drying and styling, we continue to discuss parts of our lives while comparing travel stories about the common places we’ve visited.
My nails and feet dry well before Sherry finally spins me to see what she calls her masterpiece, and my mouth drops as I see the new me.
My hair is soft and fluffy, falling in beautiful layers like never before. I feel like a supermodel, so intrigued that I stand from my seat for a better look before turning to thank Sherry.
“It’s beautiful!” I compliment her and she blushes a bit before introducing the last of my beauty assistants for the day.
Alicia is here to do my make-up, and she looks a bit disappointed when I tell her I’m going for the no make-up look. Most likely, she was hoping for full-on glam for a movie premiere or something, but nevertheless, she does an amazing job hiding my flaws while adding a bit of highlight and a small pop of color at the edges of my eyelids.
Walking out to the waiting Bentley, I feel like a million bucks, and from my reflection, I’d have to say I look the part as well.
Arriving at the shopping center, I’m revitalized as I meet with Trish, a trendy girl who looks fresh out of college, fully engulfed in a life of fashion.
“Joey said you had curves, but you’re tiny.” She shakes her head before walking back to the rack of clothes standing behind her. Looking upon my figure, I try to decide which argument I agree with more.
“I have some looks that are going to work perfectly for you,” she returns, pinching at my waist as I stand as still as a tree watching her in awe. Moving between the clothes, plucking hangers off the rack and throwing them over her shoulder, she whirls around me like a tornado, selecting options.
“Let’s go for the first look,” she grabs my wrist, leading me to a dressing room with a draped curtain, before hanging three items on a wooden post. “Put those on and come out,” she says before pulling the curtain closed behind her.
Running my fingers across the fabrics, I see that the first piece of is a white lace bodysuit, intended to go underneath the red dress that also hangs from the wooden post.
