Logan
“What the hell is this for again?” Logan frowned down at the assorted collection of silverware around his plate. It looked like someone dumped a silverware drawer in front of him and tried to make some sort of nouveau art project with it. One person didn’t need this many plates, spoons, or forks. One of each was plenty.
Nikki laughed at his confusion. “Sit up straight and don’t say ‘hell,’” she said with mock seriousness. “Now, for the fifteenth time, that’s a salad fork. It’s for the salad.”
Logan just stared at her, unable to comprehend why the salad needed its own fork. “Why are we doing this again?”
Nikki flipped her long, black hair from her eyes. It fell in massive, voluminous waves from the crown of her head well past her shoulders. Logan had never seen such a full head of hair on anyone, and he wondered how she ever got a brush through it. The edges of her hair glowed with streaks of random colors, like she’d tumbled into a rainbow. Her eyes with the same, glowing green as Francesca’s, but Nikki’s were obviously contacts. Her skin was the deep brown of someone who owed their heritage to somewhere in Central America. She even had a touch of the accent.
Nikki was wearing something designer that looked like it is cost more than Logan’s bike did. She looked perfectly at home in this upscale restaurant. Both she and Francesca looked completely relaxed.
He felt as out of place in this crystal-and-china-infested cafe as a badger in a ballroom. It didn’t matter that they’d dressed him up again in a suit that was worth more than his entire life back home, he still felt like he stood out like a sore thumb. It was unbearable.
But Francesca needed him to do this so he could go to the Gala with her. It was incredibly important to her, so he made an effort to find it important, too. But all these rules seemed intricate and difficult for the sake of being intricate and difficult. None of the rules seemed to have a purpose other than to make Logan as confused and angry as possible.
“Whoever came up with this system obviously never had to wash dishes,” Logan grumbled, waiting for the waiter to bring what the girls had called the “Next Course.” It sounded incredibly ominous to him.
Both Nikki and Francesca broke down in a fit of giggles, their eyes pricked with tears and glittering with laughter. Francesca looked like an angel when she smiled, a goddess when she laughed, but Logan wasn’t sure he liked her laughing at his expense.
“It’s simple; for each course they bring out, use the utensil that is furthest from your plate and work your way in. If you’re not sure what to use, watch the people on either side of you. They’ll know which fork or spoon to use.”
Nikki nodded. “I think the hardest part is knowing whether to use a spoon or a fork for what food,” she said her eyes trained on her phone’s screen. Never in his life had he ever seen adults so involved in their phones. Well, I guess that’s because most of the people I know can’t afford smartphones. “Like, the soup is easy, but there are some other things that you could eat either with easily. Just watch the people around you; it’ll be fine.”
“This is ridiculous.” He pulled at the too-tight neck of his dress shirt. Glancing down at his plate, Logan studied the tiny serving of something completely unrecognizable as food.
“If you think this is crazy, wait ‘til you see the Gala,” Francesca said. She looked happy here, all of the tension melting out of her shoulders the longer she sat here. And Logan didn’t think it had anything to do with the service or the food.
Francesca needed Nikki in her life. There was a part of Francesca that never completely relaxed until her best friend was around. Nikki seemed to remind her of everything that was important that wasn’t work, the TV show, or her too-demanding mother.
“Why?” he asked cautiously. “What is the Gala like?” Not sure he wanted to know the answer, Logan braced himself for the answer.
“Crystal glasses, outfits worth a million dollars, and some of the richest snobs in the world,” Nikki said, snorting delicately.
“Unimaginable wealth and power, a ballroom-style dance floor made of marble, and crystal chandeliers,” Francesca added, seeming to get a rise out of Logan’s obvious discomfort.
Nikki lifted one, gold-tipped hand off of the table, stretching it above her as far as she could. “The ceilings are like miles away from you, and the windows are so tall, you feel like an ant in front of them.”
Francesca nodded, the smile fading from her face. “It’s supposed to be for charity, but most people spend ten times their donation money on their clothes and shoes.” Sighing, she stared at the floor. Logan could feel that stupid, protective feeling rising up in him, wanting to shield her from all of the things that made her unhappy.
But in all honesty, he was the one in need of reassurance.
Spending the last few days with Nikki and Francesca, going to every fancy restaurant within a fifty-mile radius, made him miss his people back home with a sharpness he didn’t expect.
Although he didn’t miss Zook, his backstabbing friend from the Club, he did miss many of the others. Those who had stood by him for so long. He wondered if any of them had figured out what had happened, or if they had just assumed Zook’s story was the truth and dismissed him as guilty.
“No. I can see some of them, maybe, but I feel like Marrow and Pyro and Blade would never believe I did such a thing.” Sighing, he wished he could see them again, hear their voices. But there was nothing for it. They would have to get on with their lives without ever knowing what happened to him.
“Because as soon as Davis crawls back to Francesca, I won’t want to be anywhere near this place.” The thought of her in his arms made Logan furious, but he pushed that feeling down. It was what Francesca wanted, so Logan would abide by it.
# # #
Francesca
Francesca breathed a heavy sigh of relief the moment she waved goodbye to Nikki and closed her front door. Silence reigned in her pretty house; Paula must have already come and gone. Smiling, Francesca inhaled deeply. There was something wonderful about a clean, quiet house that soothed her soul.
But right now, she wanted her house to be anything but quiet. She had a few ideas of how she wanted to spend her evening with Logan, and she was really hoping he was thinking the same thing.
She couldn’t stop thinking about that amazing night they had spent together, how he had literally fucked her all the way up the stairs to her bedroom. His sex drive seemed to be as insatiable as hers, and she needed that sort of drive again. She needed him again.
Feeling a little shy, she turned around, coming face to face with Logan. His wild brown eyes were filled with something she couldn’t read, his teeth holding his bottom lip hostage. OMG, he’s so hot. How on earth did Francesca get so damned lucky? Who knew that one day, a literal sex god would just wander into her life right when she needed him most and would make love to her until she passed out?
“We have the evening free, Logan. Is there anything in particular you wanted to do?” Francesca could feel that wicked smile coming back to her face as her gaze roamed over Logan’s perfect body wrapped up in that tailored suit.
Logan’s eyes nearly glowed as he took her in, his lips parting as his gaze drank up what would soon be his. His voice was rough with lust as he said, “I should, uh, hang up the suit first.”
Francesca laughed. He had such mundane concerns! “It’s just clothing, Logan.” She closed the distance between them, her eyes hooded with desire. “But I promise to be gentle when I take it off of you. Deal?”
She didn’t give him a second to argue; before he could say a thing, she was down on her knees, her lips brushing against his already hardening member through the silk fabric of his pants. He groaned in the back of his throat, his hands coming up to bury themselves in her long blonde hair.
Pulling his zipper down, Francesca freed his cock, admiring the soft skin and his perfect length for a just a second before exploring it more fully with her tongue. She caressed him, sucking hard, then soft, swallowing the length of him down her very willing throat. His hips began to move, his member hard and throbbing inside of her mouth.
Logan’s fingers caressed Francesca’s scalp in time with the flicks of her tongue over the head of him. She opened up her throat to his willing member, feeling the length of him brush past her lips and her tongue and into her. Closing his eyes with delight, Logan moaned low and loud in the back of his throat as Francesca grabbed him with both hands, sliding her fingers down the length of him, his cock wet with her saliva. She slid her fingers behind him, closing her fist gently around the soft, wrinkled skin of his balls.
He moved his hips faster, his head thrown back as his clothing grew sticky with sweat. Francesca opened her mouth to him, letting his thrusting hips pick the pace. He grabbed hold of her head harder, and Francesca let him, caressing his cock with her tongue as it slid by over and over.
When he came in her mouth, she was ready, swallowing down all of his seed with delight. It slid down her throat as she licked him clean, her tongue sending violent shivers through his whole body.
“I have a present for you,” she purred, squeezing him gently in her hand.
“So I noticed,” he gasped, his legs wobbling a little with the power of his orgasm.
Francesca chuckled and got to her feet, catching one of his big hands in hers. “No, I got you something else. Come upstairs.”
So he followed her obediently, his fly still open and his beautiful cock still on display. He followed her into her bedroom, his eyes growing wide as he saw her present to them both. Handcuffs hung from the headboard, just waiting for a pair of hands to clasp in them. “You’ve been following rules all day,” she whispered into his ear, sending shivers through his whole body. “Let’s break some.”
She wasn’t wholly prepared when Logan picked her up off of the floor and threw her onto the bed. Much to her delight, his cock was already hardening again. She was so ready for him.