The Revenge Games Duet

I scream. I yell. I curse at Wesley Rich for breaking my trust. For tearing my heart into a million pieces and for making me believe what we had was love. And when I pull myself up for air, Logan’s standing in front of me, breathing heavily with my cell in his hand.

“Are you psycho? Seriously, Emmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” I shout back in his face.

“Well, you are. So, the dickhead cheated? Move on. He didn’t deserve you to begin with. Marriage is for the weak. Don’t fall into that whole love bullshit. You can have a good life without it.”

“What would you know?” I argue, ungrateful he found my cell. “You’ve never been in love. At least, I took a chance.”

“Geez woman, will you listen to yourself? Here’s your damn cell. Don’t throw an expensive phone in the lake.” He pushes it toward my chest, eyes wide and fueled with anger.

“You’re all the same, that’s the problem,” I mouth off, not sure where I’m going with this because anger only sees one path—destruction.

“You need to cool off. I’m surprised this cold water ain’t doing that. And for the record, Emmy, we’re not all the same.”

“Yes, you are. It’s all about the pussy. The more you get the bigger you feel. There’s no good men out there who actually believe in love and being faithful. Ash will fuck up. He’s just like you, can’t keep his dick in his fucking pants.”

“Emerson,” he rasps, holding onto my wrist and watching me carefully. “You’re angry. You have every right to be angry. Just don’t destroy the people who love you because of how he treated you. He’s the dick. He doesn’t deserve you. End of story.”

“Doesn’t deserve me?” I laugh again. “Who am I? I don’t even know who I am. Everything I do in life is for everyone else. Make everyone else happy. Entertain the world. My whole life is in the tabloids. Nothing I do is private. I’m sick of it, sick of it all! And it’s my fault. Dad warned me and I didn’t listen. I was so pissed off that you and Ash left me t

o be big stars that I wanted to rival you.”

“And you did,” he admits with a smirk. “You’re the most wanted TV star. I know men that jerk off just talking about you.”

I cringe, aware that something foreign has brushed against my leg. “That’s gross,” I say flatly, calming down. “Well, it depends who, but still… you really like to paint that picture and distract one’s thoughts.”

“I’m just saying you’re gorgeous.”

I keep my breathing still until the slimy, furry thing brushes against my leg again and I scream, jumping into Logan’s body and wrapping my arms around his neck. Without even thinking, I also wrap my legs around his waist scared half out of my mind.

“Oh. My. God! What the hell is that? An anaconda?”

His arms lace around my entire body, protecting me from the beast. “Emmy,” he whispers, the sound of his smooth voice calming my racing heart. “Stop living the lie. Do something for you. You owe it to yourself.”

This is the most serious conversation we’ve ever had. I’m waiting for him to laugh, or give me a wet-willy and drop me into the beast’s mouth. But it doesn’t happen.

“I’m scared,” I admit in the softest voice.

“Of what?”

“That you’ll give me a wedgie.”

The stupidity of the situation has slapped me in the face. First, I throw my cell like a tantrum-throwing toddler. Then, I find myself in the arms of Logan Carrington, who no doubt, is plotting something wicked in his sadistic mind.

Between the moon which reflects off the water and the darkness that surrounds us, the sounds of his hitched breathing echo enough for me to remain still. In some crazy way, my heart begins to beat wildly, mirroring his breathing.

“Will you just shut up for once?” he grunts out with a sullen glare. The complete opposite to the calm demeanor he showed only moments ago.

I exhale as if his threats don’t affect me, challenging him because he hasn’t changed one bit. Still, a stubborn know-it-all who thinks he’s king. Rule the world and everyone around him must bow down.

“Yeah? Well… make me,” I say in defiance, holding my arms out so we stare face-to-face.

Something in the way his eyes bore into me, warns me again that Logan never plays fair. He always takes things to the next level. His hand slides down my back and over my ass. My dress is floating, and with one move, his palm is against my bare cheek after he scrunches my panties aside in his hand. It doesn’t help that my reflexes are slow. With my hands ready to push him away, the jolt of my body from his fingers brushing against the entrance of my pussy startles me—the moan barely at bay as he repeats the movement again.

Is this happening?

You’re dreaming...