Tell Me No Secrets: Secret Baby Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  I didn't know for sure that Logan was single at this point, but I was pretty sure he was. If he wasn’t, Kristen would have known about it and wouldn't have tried to set us up in that clever way. I really had to hand it to her. While she may have been a bit misguided, her heart was in the right place.

  When I reached Calista’s, I saw that somehow Logan had gotten here first. For all I knew, he had called from the back of his limo on his way to the quite nice wine bar which just so happened to be a few blocks from my house. Or maybe he just had his driver run all the red lights.

  Either way, there he sat, in a suit that didn't look the least bit disheveled. I couldn't see the label so I couldn't quite tell if it was also a Ralph Lauren. For all I knew, he had a closet full of identical, black Ralph Lauren suits, lined up like soldiers, waiting to do their duty of making him look both classy and sexy at the same time. I saw him at what I assumed to be his usual table, looking at the menu, apparently having sobered up considerably.

  Taking a breath of courage, I strode over to him, doing my best to walk straight and also to ignore the sudden warmth and tingling in my pussy.

  "Anything look good?" I asked, approaching the table.

  "Aside from you?" Logan asked, looking me up and down.

  "Oh, stop it," I said, blushing.

  It wasn't an act. I actually felt my cheeks get warm.

  "I speak nothing but the truth," he said, "I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before. Unless you had to dress up for a band or choir performance at school."

  "You don't look so bad yourself," I said, siting down across from him. It hadn’t escaped me that he had admitted to paying attention to what I wore at band concerts. "I don't think I’ve seen you in a suit before either. Very nice."

  "I do my best," he said, "my dad recommended the tailor, who is well known for taking high class suits and making them bespoke. But I had actually never heard of him until about a year ago. Like you said, I was more likely to wear khakis than to couture but here we are."

  "Both looking sexy," I said.

  "I can only speak for my impression but definitely," he said, his eyes wandering down to my breasts.

  "I haven't really been to a wine bar before," I said, "not even this one that’s so close to my house. What do you suggest?"

  "I was thinking of the ice wine."

  "Isn't that expensive?"

  "Oh yes, and worth every dime. You'll know what I mean when you taste it," he said.

  "I assume we're not going Dutch," I said, teasing.

  "Oh no, I'm buying," he confirmed.

  "How traditional."

  "I asked you out. And made you get dressed up and leave your place on a moment’s notice to boot. It's only fair," Logan said with a shrug.

  "And you have buckets of money," I added.

  "Well, yes, but I wasn't going to mention that."

  "How noble of you," I said, feeling a bit of a sting I couldn’t quite place. "There was a time I could have done it."

  "Become a billionaire?"

  "Well, no, maybe not a billionaire, but I was voted most likely to succeed and had so many friends it was just silly. I could have done anything. Or at least felt like I could. Now I'm working at a spa for not much more than minimum wage. Watching life pass me by from behind a desk, barely making enough money to scrape by. I guess it's true what they say. High school isn't real life."

  "Too true. I've heard the same argument about college too and I think I know what you mean. I was considered a hotshot jock. Girls falling over me. Guys wanting to be me. At least when they weren't trying to kick my ass, I assumed out of envy. But really, what did I have? A pretty face, nice hair and money given to me by my grandpa. Basically everything I have is because of the family I happened to be born into. I didn't really earn any of it and a lot of it I got by pretending to be someone I'm not. Or at least living up to someone else's standards."

  I wanted to ask if those standards had been his grandpa's but I knew that was a sore spot for him. Kristen had told me a bit about what happened and it sounded really nasty.

  I couldn't help how much of Logan's attitude had come from his grandpa's influence. It didn't make up for the shitty way he had treated me but at least there would have been some kind of explanation. He hadn't seemed like that much of an asshole before and he didn't then at the wine bar or at the dinner party either.

  His grandpa dying seemed to have had an affect on him. Maybe it was for the better. It was an awful thing to think but that didn't stop it from being true.

  I had noticed that we had both had yet to touch on the elephant in the room. Our relationship, such as it was, in high school and how it had all ended.

  I was trying to stay positive and was avoiding it on purpose, even though it was on my mind. Near the back. Where I kept reminders for appointments and mom’s banana bread recipe Things I knew but didn't think about all the time.

  A look at his sparking blue eyes was pushing the nastiness even further back into the darkness between remembering and forgetting. I wanted him so bad. I crossed my legs feeling the warmth between my legs. I had neglected to wear panties under the dress. I thought it would be more fun that way, knowing something that he didn't.

  I wondered if his cock was getting hard. I imagined it swelling in his pants, trying to break free and be taken in and taken care of by a loving mouth or tender pussy.

  My imagination had been going pretty wild with what I wanted to do to him and him to do to me. I thought that might end now that we were back in touch but that only made the fantasies more real and intense. They could always strike at any time and one did right then.

  I imaged crawling under the table and going over to him. Running my hands up over his thighs, I would have stroked his hard, warm cock through his suit pants, careful not to make it too loud, and haul out his huge cock, his hard-on making it look like he was smuggling salami.

  Taking a moment to really appreciate the sight and even the smell of him, I would gently suck his balls while tenderly stroking his gorgeous cock. Right when he was about to cum, I would stop, squeezing the head. When he had settled and we were out of the danger zone, I would lick his cock from bottom to top several times before swirling my tongue around the head, savouring the sweet, warm saltiness.

  Eventually, when I had driven him to the point of madness, I would drop my mouth over the head, taking it in. Holding it there for a moment, I would start to suck lightly, not moving my head much, moving ever so slightly down until a full half of his cock was in my mouth.

  This is when I went for it, in my mind. Moving my soft lips up and down his throwing shaft. Slowly at first and then harder and harder until I was throat-fucking myself.

  I imagined Logan putting a hand on my head to keep me from hurting myself. I imagined cupping his balls, gripping and stroking his shaft and sucking him until the moment of truth when he flooded my mouth with his tasty cum, so I could swallow it all down.

  I didn't know why so many of my fantasies featured oral. I had never even really sucked a cock before except that one time I tried to suck Logan’s and he stopped but I sure did seem to want to try it again. Though that well could have been part of it. Want to experience something I never really had.

  I had always heard that it was pretty awesome. Not only for the guy but for the person sucking their cock. Kristen, in a moment of candor, had told me it felt surprisingly comforting. Something about the feeling of a hard, warm cock in her mouth helping her to relax. Which in turn helped her do it better because she wasn't worried.

  I really hoped that was true. Particularly with what I had decided to do.

  "I think, in a way, grandpa dying set me free," Logan said, breaking me from my reverie.

  “That’s good,” I told him. “I was just wondering whether that might have been the case.”

  Along with wondering about some other things…

  I was no longer in any mood to rehash the past, s
o, that was a good thing.

  “I’m glad you understand,” Logan said.

  "I do. But, hey, we came here for a good time, right?" I asked, by then horny as hell.

  "Right," he agreed.

  "So, no more talking about how our lives peaked in high school, okay?”

  "Agreed," he said with a smile, "so, a fun time, hey?"

  "Right."

  "Your place or mine?" he asked.

  "Yours. I want to see how the rich live," I said.

  "Serious?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

  "What? You don't think I’d really do it this time?"

  "Let's just see what happens, okay?" he asked.

  Let’s just see, indeed.

  Chapter Ten - Kora

  We took the bottle of ice wine to go. As luck would have it, Logan's limo was waiting for us at the curb outside.

  "M'lady," he said, opening the back door for me.

  He waited until I had scooted across the real leather seat to the opposite door. He was right. The seat was rather slippery. When I was securely in the seat, Logan got in, closing high the door behind him.

  "Home, Timothy," Logan said to the driver.

  The car started up and moved out carefully onto the street. There wasn't much traffic at that time of night so, despite the length, it was fairly easy to go out onto the road and out into the night.

  Once we were on our way, Logan reached down near my legs. I thought he was going for me and was just about to spread my legs, making it easy for him, when he reached around me and opened a cupboard I hand't seen before.

  He took out two crystal wine glasses. Handing me one, he pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured us both a glass. I had only had one glass at the restaurant and was far from drunk.

  The alcohol would help get rid of my qualms and let me do what I really wanted to do but I also wanted to keep my wits about me. I was planning to finally lose my virginity and I really wanted to remember it.

  Logan's house was way out in the sticks. I didn't just mean the suburbs. There was actual forest. Trees looming ominously in the dark.

  I could have sworn I saw an owl in one of them. The full moon shone in through the open moon roof, lighting us almost as much as the interior lights. Had it been a movie, that would have been the point where Logan revealed himself to being either a werewolf or Batman. I certainly knew which one I would have preferred as well as which seemed more likely.

  The limo pulled up to the bottom of the looming marble steps. Logan got out first and came around to the other side to open my door for me, offering his hand.

  Helping me out of the limo, Logan closed the door and led me toward the house as the driver closed the other door before driving away and around the rear. I looked up at the steps as we approached, doubting my ability to scale them in heels.

  Walking in a straight line was one thing but I couldn't quite see doing a Rocky Balboa. Logan waited patiently as I paused to slip off my shoes, carrying one in each hand. When I was ready, he led the way up the steps, the ancient marble cold and smooth under my bare feet.

  The house didn't have a lock in the traditional sense. Logan didn't take out a huge metal ring of keys with only two teeth on the end, as the door suggested. Instead, he took out his wallet and swiped a keycard through a reader built into the wall beside the door.

  "What's that?" I asked, pointing to a small lens, just above the card reader.

  "Retinal scanner," Logan said casually, as the reader let out a melodic chime and the door unlocked, opening before us.

  "Of course you have a back-up retinal scanner built into the state-of-the-art security system at your centuries old stately home in the woods. How silly of me."

  "Fair comment," he said, with a shrug.

  I really hadn't been prepared for what I found inside the house, the exterior really giving little indication of the splendor the lay within.

  "Did you buy all this?" I asked, wondering at the artifacts of history that surrounded me.

  "Hell no. Grandpa did. He felt really self-conscious about new money, so he bought all of this, including the house, to try and give him a air of old world respectability."

  "Oh," I said, that really not being the answer I had expected.

  I thought his parents’ house when we were in high school was big. I had spent most of my life in apartments, so I guess it made sense. But this makes that house, the one with the Olympic sized swilling pool, look like a shack by comparison.

  I was suddenly really glad to have Logan there to get me through it. Otherwise I would have definitely gotten lost, probably never to be heard from again. Just another ghost in the shadows and whisper in the night.

  After what honestly felt like hours, or at least an hour at any rate, we finally ended up in the living room. Or I guess what would have been called the parlor back when the house was built.

  It, like everything else, was absolutely massive. It looked like everything I had been taught to expect about a mansion. Vaulted ceiling, bookcases so high you needed a ladder to get to the top shelf, a roaring fire.

  The sight of the bookshelves set my mind running again. I couldn't help but imagine claiming up it in my dress, looking for a book Logan thought I would like, only to have him hike up my dress from behind and bury his face in my aching little cunt, licking me to a huge orgasm as I clung to the rungs of the ladder so I wouldn't fall.

  "Sit anywhere," Logan said, going over to the sound system, it being much more than a simple stereo in every possible way.

  I was just about to say "how about on your face?" but stopped myself in the nick of time, my cheeks growing warm with the naughtiness of the thought. That was part of the reason I didn't like Logan as much as I also loved him. Just being around him turned me into a total nympho!

  Pulling myself together, I went over and sat in the leather lounge chair across from the couch, keeping my legs pressed tight before carefully crossing them, afraid he might find out I had gone commando. Not that the idea didn't give give me a little thrill. I had considered sitting down right next to him on the couch. Hell, I had wanted to but resisted, not sure how long it would have been before I jumped him if I got that close.

  Better to keep a physical distance. Particularly since I was failing to keep an emotional one. The positive emotions matching the negative ones were just enough to make it dangerous, probably for both of us.

  Logan had always been difficult to read and I really didn't know what he wanted.

  Had this all been a ruse so he could get me here and fuck me?

  Or was he really as cool as he seemed, wanting to see where things went?

  I really didn't know which one was better, the first fulfilling my immediate physical need, which was getting more desperate by the minute, the other showing some real growth on his part. Maybe he really wasn't the guy he was in high school. Maybe he really had grown up.

  I decided that the question as to whether this was a booty call or an honest invitation to talk would be answered by the music he put on. Music selection could really tell you a lot about a person and their intentions.

  Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" and he really did want to fuck me like an animal.

  Some soft classical music and he wanted to drink and chat.

  Hozier's "Take Me to Church" and he was likely as conflicted as I was.

  The Cure's "Love Song" or even "Just Like Heaven" and I would have to reassess the last seven or so years of my life.

  Like so many things in life, it really wasn't that simple. What came out of the speakers was some quite elaborate and surprisingly melodic guitar tones, devoid of either vocals or drums but with this heavy gain and distortion associated with Black Metal from Norway. We could talk with it on. It didn't get in the way, but it would also be a pretty good soundtrack for an epic fuck session.

  Logan went over to the minibar, leaving me to ponder the implications of his eccentric musical choice. It was compl
etely unexpected; I’ll give him that.

  We had long finished what we wanted of the ice wine, Logan gifting the rest of the bottle to the driver, who seemed quite happy to accept it. That didn't stop Logan from getting out a bottle of very expensive looking red, however.

  I didn't really know wines that well. All the French names and types and regions. Where I grew up, there were only two types, red and white, both of them dreadfully sinful and completely off limits.

  The first thing I did when I went away to college, of course, was to buy a bottle of wine. I really had no idea what I was doing but had heard the red was better, so I got the least expensive bottle of red in the store. My tastes had refined since that first stumbling, rebellion-fuelled experiment but I still hadn’t really gotten around to learning all the nuances of the thing.

  The cork came out of the bottle with a satisfying pop. That was one of my favorite things about drinking wine, other than the drinking itself, of course. Taking out two more crystal wine glasses which seemed to have been stockpiled just in case, Logan poured out a bit each and headed back to the couch, handing me one of the glasses on the way.

  I sipped the wine carefully, not wanting to get drunk. He was a bit more liberal with his intake, still not seeming to be affected much by it.

  "Would you like something to eat?" he asked.

  "All I really want is to fuck your brains out," I blurted, surprising myself with my forwardness.

  I didn't usually talk like that, particularly about sex, but I had said it and there was no way to take it back.

  "Oh?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow in surprise.

  "Y-you don't seem to think I really want to do it. I want to prove you wrong."

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  "Fuck yes!" I nearly screamed, all the pent-up frustration and horniness coming out at once.

  Seemingly unphased, Logan put down his wine glass and stood up. His hard-on was then apparent in his pants. Without a word he came over to me and scooped me up into his arms as though I weighed nothing.