Francesca
Francesca stood in front of the hotel room number that Logan had given her, feeling like she was tearing herself to pieces for this meeting. Her hand was poised to knock, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Seeing him one last time: is it worth the pain?
“Yes,” she realized after a moment. “I want to see him again, this once. I need to memorize the lines of his face, the sound of his voice.”
Even though it pulled at her heart to do it, Francesca knocked, holding her breath as she waited for him to answer. When Logan opened the door, she still wasn’t quite ready to see him again. It hurt to see his face, so empty and lifeless. The chiseled jaw of his was tight, his eyes void of emotion.
Logan gestured for her to come in, closing the door behind them. Francesca turned to him, but Logan had pressed his forehead to the hotel’s door like he couldn’t stand to see her face again.
Foundations crumbling under her feet, Francesca had to force herself to stand up straight, to look him right in the eye when he turned around to face her.
“I’m sorry, Francesca. I’m sorry for everything. I — You were owed an apology, in person.” Logan stepped away from the door and turned around, his eyes like ice. She swallowed hard, but managed to keep her eyes locked with his. “I never should have come home with you; I never wanted to make your life harder. I’m going to leave, go back home to the MC.”
She was quiet for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice came out ragged and unhappy. “I don’t — I mean, thank you. For the apology. I never wanted to — ” she started, then stopped, unable to keep talking. Tears overwhelmed her, cutting off her words.
“It’s okay, Francesca. I’m going to find something to do with my life that will make you and our child proud, even if you don’t want me as part of both of your lives.”
Hearing him speak so nonchalantly about their child carved deep cracks into her heart, wounds that would likely never heal. “I want you part of your child’s life, Logan, but not until you clean your act up. I can’t have a criminal around my kid that thinks nothing of starting fist fights in my living room. That’s not a role model.”
“I agree. I’m going to do whatever it takes.” Logan stepped toward her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her face. Francesca had to close her eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers, blocking the sight of him so close to her. But there wasn’t anything she could do about the scent of him, the spicy cigarette smell that permeated his skin. She inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he smelled, so close to her as he was now.
Because after this, she would most likely never see him again.
“Promise me you’ll give me a chance to prove myself,” he whispered. Before she could answer, his lips eased over hers, his fingers buried deep in her hair. She wanted to push him away, lecture him about how inappropriate this kiss was in their situation, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
This was the last time they would be together, and she decided to let him have her one more time.
His mouth traced every inch of her, his arms and hands wrapping close, massaging her skin. Shivering, Francesca cried out his name again as they came together, bodies pressing close. Mouths pressed together not in hunger, but in quiet contemplation. There was silence between them; no words passed their lips. There was nothing that could be said to make the situation any better than it was.
Francesca sat down in his lap, her naked legs wrapped close around his waist. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she held him close, feeling the head of his cock probe her willing opening. She wrapped her arms close around him, pressing her face into his muscled shoulder.
They moved together, Logan wrapped tight around her like bonds. For the last time in her life, Francesca felt whole, protected. She felt loved and cherished. Every inch of Logan’s body seemed to worship hers, his eyes lit up with awe at her body and her soul.
Nothing was as bitterly beautiful as this moment. Never again would Francesca hold him, but this was the perfect memory to carry with her for the rest of her miserable life. Francesca wished he could stay, that they could build the life together she had always dreamed of. But he was a bad boy on a bike, and nothing in the world could change that. And although his rebel image lit her body on fire, bad boys made bad fathers. It was time to let him go, for good.
I love you. She tried to whisper it, but the words wouldn’t come. They hid behind her tongue as she moaned instead, feeling the length of him slide in and out of her willing body. She was hungry for him, and wanted to feel every last inch of him. She wanted to feel the hot splash of his cum inside, feel the feather-light caresses of his fingers down her back.
He gave her all of that and more. So much more…
# # #
Logan
“I’m sorry, Francesca. I’m sorry I’m not who you wanted me to be. That I’ll never be the right man for you.”
Francesca was straddling his hips with her perfect legs, her face buried in the curve of his shoulder. All he could do was hold her, make love to her, and then let her go. But he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet; first, he needed to make her cry his name. No matter what, he wouldn’t leave her without pleasing her first. One last time.
He couldn’t tell her how much he cared, he couldn’t explain what was spilling through his mind, but he could show her. He kissed his message into every inch of her skin, his mouth drawing out moans and gasps of pleasure that filled him with lust, love, and something bittersweet.
I love you, Francesca. I’m so sorry… He traced the words across her breasts with his mouth, caressing and teasing, making her gasp as his tongue brushed over the tips of her nipples.
Laying her down across the bed, Logan looked down on her with a sadness that filled his chest to bursting. She lay before him, spread wide and welcoming, her pussy dripping juices onto the bed’s sheets. Her hooded eyes were glittering with pleasure. Her perfect breasts formed peaks in the cool air, her usually tidy blonde hair tangled on his pillow.
A pink blush lit up her whole body, her arousal bringing her blood to the surface of her skin. He ran his eyes over every line of her, painting the portrait of her body on his mind to pull out and admire when she was long gone from him.
Then, he leaned forward and pressed a passionate kiss to her clit, exciting a yip of pleasure from her perfect, pink, cupid’s bow lips. Her eyes closed, tears spilling from the corners, dragging her mascara down the sides of her face in two, dark lines.
She shivered with emotion as Logan licked all the places she liked to be licked, sliding over her and inside of her until she shook with it, shouting his name with all of abandon he’d wanted to give her.
Eyes glowing with desire, Francesca tackled him to the bed, throwing her legs over her hips and piercing herself, sliding his cock into her unbelievably tight womanhood. She still throbbed with the ache of her last orgasm. It was perfect.
Then she was off, riding him with fervor. She threw her head back, her hands cupping her own breasts as she cried his name. Logan took firm hold of her undulating hips and guided her body as she pumped him furiously, her pussy clinging to him as though begging him never to leave.
When they came, they came together, the world shattering around them like a stained glass window, the pieces of the world glittering in the brilliant light of their love. They collapsed to the bed, sweat-soaked and panting. Words that couldn’t be spoken tainted their lips, and both remained silent.
When the shattered world began to put itself back together again, Francesca got up. Tears slid from her beautiful, green eyes as she found all of her clothing, putting each piece back on as Logan watched from the bed.
Without a single word of goodbye, Francesca walked out of the door to him hotel room forever, and Logan could do nothing but watch. He remained silent as the door slid silently closed behind her.
All of the color seemed to fade away, leaving the ugly little hotel room even uglier than before. Logan lit up a cigarette, blowing gray smoke into the gray room.