Francesca
“It’s unfortunately a necessity. I did sign a contract,” Francesca said, curling a little closer to Logan. “If I don’t fly home in the next few days, they will come after us here, and that is the last thing I want. Having a camera crew follow me around, we’d get all sorts of extra attention.”
Sighing, Francesca secretly wished she could just quit the show. But she’d already put most of the money they paid her for this next season into Diamond Savoy, getting ready for the next fall season of fashion. “Perhaps after that, I’ll quit the show. Let them film without me. I’m tired of playing the dumb blonde celebutante with way more money than sense.”
But she didn’t tell Logan that. Not yet. “Besides, you’re a free man now, so you can come with me. We can fly out tomorrow and be home before shooting on Thursday.”
Logan frowned at the ceiling. “You really want me to be a part of your reality TV show?”
Francesca sat up in bed to look down at him, the sheets sliding off of her naked body to reveal her breasts. She watched with amusement as Logan’s eyes immediately slipped to her nipples, then back to her face. There was a wicked grin on his lips as Logan sat up just enough to run a teasing tongue around the nipple of her left breast, sending lightning bolts through her veins.
Francesca leaned forward, giving Logan better access to her breasts. She closed her eyes, sighing happily as Logan continued to suckle her, his lips and tongue teasing every sensitive inch of her breast. “Oh course I want you to be part of it,” she moaned, throwing her head back. “You are my reality.”
Logan sat up, his lips moving north to find her neck, but his hands moved lower. She was already wet for him by the time his fingers had gotten far enough down her body to slip inside of her. All of her breath went out of her in a rush. “Yes,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck, “but I am not really reality show material.”
Gasping, Francesca clung to Logan as he slid another finger inside of her body. It felt amazing, even though she was still sore from all of the sex they’d had the night before. Logan was an endurance man, always trying to make her cum as many times as possible before finishing himself. Never in her life had Francesca ever met a man who could satisfy her so completely or took so much pleasure in doing so.
“I think,” she gasped out as he threw her back against the bed and buried his face between her legs without warning, “that the producers would — Ah! — love you as much as I do.”
His mouth plundered her over and over, bringing her over the edge in record time before diving in again. “I’m not sure I want to be in reality TV, Francesca,” Logan answered, his voice rough with desire. His tongue continued to shake her whole body as he slid his index finger into her pussy and his thumb into her ass, stroking both in sync.
She screamed something, her body throbbing in time with his tongue and his fingers. He was playing her like a harp, exciting all sorts of exquisite sounds with his very talented hands and mouth. “What do I have to do,” she moaned, her hands clawing at the sheets as Logan picked up the pace, “to get you to come home with me?”
He chuckled, and the sound of it vibrated through her body through his tongue, sending her over the edge again. As she screamed and cried out, Logan said, “You could beg; that usually gets me to do whatever you want.”
She begged and pleaded, crying out his name as he slipped inside of her body once again.
It was several hours before they finished, cleaned up, and packed up the hotel room. Francesca had been in this awful city for so long, she’d actually come to like it, and felt a pang of regret leaving the ugly little thing behind. “I mean, I’ve been here for what, almost a month? And that whole time, Logan has been trying to make me like this hell hole. Maybe he succeeded a little.”
She chuckled to herself, picking up one of her dresses from the floor and bundling it into her bag. Logan was in the shower, humming softly to himself as he washed up. Francesca smiled at the sound. Until something stopped her cold in her tracks. She stopped dead in the middle of packing, her mouth agape as she remembered what she had just been thinking a second ago.
“A month. We’ve been here a month.” It was true; she’d run out of birth control pills two weeks ago and had to have her prescription sent over here. But in the intervening week, while she took the placebo pill, she hadn’t had a period.
Her hands shook as she glanced through her bag; she was remembering right; the box of tampons in her luggage was completely untouched.
“This is worse than late; I missed the whole period all together. Maybe it was stress?” Panic rose in her chest, and Francesca had to sit down. Forcing herself to breathe, Francesca tried to calm herself. “Yes, it must have been stress. From everything going on with Logan and him being arrested.”
But her hands still quivered.
She stood back up again, trying to push the thought from her mind. But there was a very insistent voice in the back of her head that wondered if she was going to have Logan’s child.
Logan’s child. The thought didn’t fill her with fear, but excitement. If there was a child on the way, she would be ready for it. And she would keep it, no matter what.
Running her fingers over her stomach, she smiled a secret smile before going back to packing for their trip.
# # #
Logan
“I wish I knew something about reality TV.”
Somehow, Francesca had convinced him to take the flight home with her. Somehow, he’d gotten on this plane without even considering what being on a TV show about their lives would be like. Now, somehow, he was sitting on the couch, listening to the camera crew talk about how they would introduce him into the show.
Surprise, surprise, there was little about “reality” TV that was actually real. They spent an unbelievable amount of time choreographing certain scenes to make each and every moment of the Savoy family’s life into some exciting montage. It wasn’t the fact that scenes were incredibly fake that bothered him, it was the bickering between the writers and producers and Diane that eventually started to get under his skin. Irritated, Logan went outside for a smoke, only to have the cameras follow him to catch a few candid shots of him “being a badass.” Unsure of how smoking made him a badass, Logan shrugged and let them do whatever they wanted. If he was going to stay with Francesca, this would be his new reality, so he would have to force himself to get used to it.
Even more irritated than he was before his smoke, Logan stepped back into the Savoy household in an uproar. Diane was screaming at the top of her voice about “cowards” and Francesca’s brother Marston was watching the scene with amusement from the sidelines. Francesca looked so angry, her face blood red and twisted with fury.
Logan wanted to protect her from whatever had happened to make her so mad, so he took a step forward before he had to stop himself.
Because the person who had set Francesca off turned out to be Davis Thorne.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Logan asked, crossing his massive arms over his chest, standing up as straight as he could to try and intimidate the asshole out of the Savoy house.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Davis responded, his upper lip curled into a sneer. “What is this trash doing back here with you, Francesca?”
“None of your business, Davis,” she answered coldly, flipping her long, white-blonde hair over one shoulder, her emerald eyes blazing.
The asshole turned his anger on Logan for one, rage-inducing second. “I thought you were in jail?”
“They acquitted me of all charges. The police know I didn’t do it.”
Davis deflated a tiny bit at that, his mouth turning down into a frown. “A shame; they should have kept you in prison anyway and thrown away the key.”
Logan took another calming breath, trying not to show Davis how much he was getting under his skin. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”
Davis opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unsure of how to respond. Logan chuckled darkly, but didn’t say anything else, opting instead to stand behind Francesca, resuming the bodyguard duties she so obviously needed when Davis was around. He didn’t want Davis dripping any more of his poison into her ears; he was so good at saying just the right thing to make Francesca feel like shit. “I hate that power he has over her.”
Filming started, and they had Francesca and Logan ride in on a motorcycle, posing several times for the camera before they were happy with the takes. Davis remained on set somehow, grumbling the whole time about shitty acting skills, which Logan pointedly ignored.
“This kid is really trying to start a fight, and I don’t think he knows what he’s begging for. Little shit has probably never been in a real fight; I’d punch him through a wall.”
But instead of allowing his baser instincts to take hold, Logan took a deep breath and buckled down, forcing himself to ignore everything that came out of Davis’s mouth. Unhappy, he and Francesca got to work, doing the best they could to block the sound of Davis’s whining.