Kicking Reality
Reliable sources are never reliable. Logan should have known that. I wasn’t sure why he continues to believe the lies floating around.
“Does it look like I’m pregnant to my ex-fiancé?”
He bows his head, chin down with his voice low yet full of rage. “Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Or answer any of my texts?”
I begin to walk away where the guests can’t see us, annoyed at having to defend myself once again to a man that knew the real me. “Because it didn’t warrant a response. We’ve been over this and yet you refuse to trust me!”
“You don’t leave me much options!” he shouts back, startling me. “I fucking have to live with watching the two of you. Do you even know what that’s like?!”
“Probably the same as being told that Louisa dropped by your apartment.” I laugh out of spite. “And knowing you, you would have lapped that up. Taken her to your room and shown her a good ol’ time.”
“I can’t do this.” He shakes his head while running his hands nervously through his hair. “I can’t even think straight anymore. You’re on the front of a magazine—Happily Engaged Emerson Chase. How the hell do you want me to deal with that?”
“I don’t know, okay? Everything is against us. We are very wrong for each other. We are like fire and gasoline. A deadly combination.”
“We should stop this, all of this.”
“We should,” I say quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat and keeping my head low so he didn’t see the pain that tore through me when he said those words.
Outside the property, there is a gap between the house and the neighbor’s yard. There appears to be no one home next door; the lights off and nothing but darkness. In between the houses, we stand in the dark with a full moon above us. Although he is standing an arm’s length away, his scent is smothering all my senses and allowing my body to drown in his presence.
The music is loud and plays around us. I make the decision to tell him we’re over, that I need to sort everything out before anything else. The next few weeks would be stressful enough and I didn’t need a complicated love triangle to be confusing the situation.
I begin to open my mouth when the cold hits my back and Logan has slammed me up against the concrete wall. I draw his chin to my lips, kissing him deeply and losing myself in his touch. He made me come alive; a simple kiss that ignited all of me despite the wrong that followed us. The heat of his hands wrap around my ass, lifting me up, as his heavy kisses ravage my neckline.
“Logan,” I pant, straightening my back, trying to gather some clarity. “We shouldn’t do it here.”
“I can’t wait,” he responds between kisses; the sound of his belt hitting the ground as he pulls me into him, sliding my panties towards the side.
“Arms against the wall.” He lifts them and places them flat, demanding they stay there. “Why do you keep torturing me?”
The desperation in his voice echoes in my ears, accelerating the beating of my heart until there is nothing to say but the honest truth. “Because you torture me with your obsessive need to control what I do.”
He bows his head, running his tongue down the middle of my chest. His jaw is prominent; a slight moan escaping between his perfect lips.
“I’m not going to ask you.” His tone changes, rough and demanding. “I’m going to be the only man in your life. No more bullshit. No more questions. It’s just us now. You and me and no one else.”
The weight of his words kickstarts my emotions, and with him buried inside me penetrating that persistent ache, the intensity of what we’re both feeling drives me into a blissful orgasm, my body screaming in delight as I ride it out through his deep thrusts.
The rise and fall of my chest consumes me, my eyesight blinded by the stars that shone bright during my explosive finish. He rests his body against mine, keeping himself inside as he kisses my breasts.
I push him off with care, adjusting my dress and panties while he pulls his jeans up and buckles his belt. When our breathing stabilizes, he scoops my face into his hands and kisses my mouth softly.
“I thought I would find you here.”
The sound of Wesley’s voice breaks this moment. It has finally come to this—no more lies, no more secrets. Instinctively, I position myself between Logan and Wesley. Even behind me, I could hear the growl escaping Logan’s throat.
“What are you doing here?” I ask nervously, watching Wesley move closer. He is a complete mess. Shirt half unbuttoned and hair a wild mess. In one hand, he holds a bottle of bourbon and brings it to his mouth, drinking straight from the bottle.
“Why am I here?” An evil laugh escapes his drunken lips. “Because I needed to see for myself. You see, your perfect new boyfriend isn’t so perfect.”
“Wesley, it’s over. You’ve seen it now.”
“Oh,” he m
ouths, stumbling forward. “I’ve seen it alright. I saw the way he fucked that tight little pussy of yours against the wall. You did that nice moan, the one when you’re just about to cum. I just wish I could have joined in, you know, double team you.”
I shake my head, shocked at his callous words. “You’re drunk.”