Chapter 20

Auralie

The ride back to the cabin is tense and silent. Tense because this jackass is ruining everything and putting my father in danger, and silent because the minute we got in Logan’s truck and he said, “Auralie… I didn’t mean—”

And I snapped at him, “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone.”

When he pulls into the short driveway, I snatch my purse and bolt out of the passenger door. I sort of assumed he got the hint and wouldn’t follow me, but I hear him getting out and his door slamming just after mine.

“Go away, Logan,” I mutter over my shoulder as I stomp up the porch steps and dig the front door key out of my purse.

“Not going to happen,” he mutters back, close on my heels.

I slam the key in the lock, twist it viciously, and throw the door open, all while sneering at him, “Let me guess. That little job your buddy did on me at The Silo got you all worked up, right? Want to fuck me, don’t you?”

Logan snatches me by the upper arm. I anticipate he’ll spin me around to face him, but instead, he pushes me through the doorway and marches me right into the living room while growling at me, “You’re goddamn right I want to fuck you.”

I want to scream at him in frustration that he thinks so little of my anger and all he wants to do is use my body, but that need to scream wars with the insatiable need I have for him to fuck me. While I’ll never admit it to him, what Bridger did to me in that club while Logan watched with hot, needy eyes has my panties still soaked despite how mad I am at him.

“Then do it,” I hiss at him.

He makes a frustrated sound deep in his chest, but he walks me right around the back of the couch that’s positioned to separate the living area from the kitchen. “Fine. I was going to talk this shit out, but if you want fucked, I’ll fuck you. Never going to turn my nose up at that sweet pussy.”

“You asshole,” I seethe at him even as my core clenches. It clenches even harder when he pushes me right over the back of the couch so I’m bent at my pelvis with my ass is in the air.

Two seconds later, his palm is cracking down on my jean-clad ass. He mutters, “Ungrateful little snot.”

“Arrogant bast—”

His hand smacks my ass again, and my traitorous body moans in response.

“That’s right,” Logan whispers in a voice filled with lustful excitement as his hands rip my jeans and underwear over my hips and down my legs until they’re bunched tight at my ankles. His hand descends again on my bare cheeks, causing me to jerk and moan and my hands to press down hard into the couch cushions for stability and leverage.

I brace, waiting for him to spank me again, but then his face is pressed into my ass and his tongue licking at my pussy from behind as his fingers pull my cheeks apart.

“Oh, Logan,” I murmur in abandon, all thoughts of anger and fight going out of me.

His mouth leaves me and two fingers press inside. “You’re drenched, Auralie. Is that from what Bridger did to you?”

“No,” I moan as his fingers move in and out.

“From us fighting? Want a hard hate-fuck?” he taunts.

“No,” I rasp out, shaking my head vehemently. “Not hate.”

“Just a hard fuck, then?” he murmurs as he pulls his fingers out of me and slides them up the seam of my ass, causing a full-body shudder. “I can certainly give that to you.”

“Logan—”

“Shhh, Auralie,” his voice whispers across the back of my neck as he stands to bend over me. He presses the length of his cock against my butt and grinds a little. “Gonna fuck you and then we’ll fight, okay?”

I nod frantically, because I really, really need him inside of me. I’ve been carrying that low burn of lust inside of me since Bridger made me come on that St. Andrew’s cross.

I expect him to pull back, free his cock, and plunge into me from behind, but that’s just silly, because Logan never does the expected. Instead, he grasps my legs and flips me over the couch, where I twist and land on my back. I come up on my elbows and watch as he prowls around toward me, his hands working deftly at his belt and zipper, pushing his jeans down enough to free himself.

He’s thick and hard, the silky skin of his cock angry red, which is fitting… seeing as how he’s angry at me still. I can tell by the way his eyes sizzle with the promise of some type of retribution for me having the temerity to be mad at him. Just the thought causes my blood to race through my veins and my breath to hitch.

Logan pulls my legs into the air to make room on the couch. He kneels before me. If I didn’t have my ankles encumbered, I’d gladly spread my legs and wrap them around his waist.

But he has other plans.

Plans that don’t include taking the time to strip me naked.

Instead, he pulls my legs up a bit higher and leverages my calves onto his left shoulder, causing my hips to twist toward the back of the couch. He holds my legs in place with his left arm wrapped securely around them. With a dip of his own hips, he uses his other hand to help guide his cock to me.

Not sure how he’s going to do this as my legs are pressed tight to each other, but then… he’s working the head of his cock into my barely accessible pussy. He pushes and grunts and twists his hips this way and that, shoving his way past the resistance of my outer lips until he reaches the wet just inside.

The thick head breaches me a few inches before he pulls back, twists his hips again, and punches in and up. He sinks halfway in and mutters, “Christ… that’s tight.”

And God… yes, that’s so tight and I feel so full.

Ignoring the fact my legs are starting to tingle, and with no way to reach out to hold onto Logan in this position, I let my fingertips clutch onto the chenille-covered cushions as he withdraws again to the very tip. With a mighty heave, he sinks all the way into me. I know it feels good because his eyes squeeze shut and air blows so hard out of his mouth, it flutters all the way down over my face.

Logan reaches under my ass, lifts me up, and twists me more to the side so I’m laying half on my side, my body spiraled. He then leans over me, causing me to jackknife. My lungs compress and I can barely breathe, but then Logan starts pistoning in and out of me, the angle and lack of spread to my pussy causing him to grunt with every thrust.

And oh… just… oh, wow.

This feels good.

So damned good.

I suck in small pockets of air each time he pulls out, expelling the same in harsh pants when he punches back in. I’m so wet. The glide is easy and effortless, but it doesn’t stop him from giving me the hard fuck he offered and I accepted.

Logan pounds me into the couch, his face etched with pleasure and his eyes darkened to a bronzed mocha. He only ups the sex appeal when he pulls his full bottom lip between his teeth and bites down on it, a clear indication that he’s trying to control himself, but I hate to tell this man… it’s a losing proposition.

“More,” I whisper on a forced exhalation.

“Fuck me,” he mutters. “My girl wants more.”

So he gives me more, fucking me exquisitely and with no doubt that neither of us has ever had it this good.

From out of nowhere, my orgasm starts to build before curling inward for one brief, agonizing moment and then exploding so swiftly it leaves my scream far behind by virtue of the sheer force of the pleasure.

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I want to tell Logan I’m coming, but really… I don’t need to. He can feel me spasming all around his cock, and I know this because he whispers, “Fuck yeah… my girl comes hard when I’m deep inside her.”

I whimper from his words alone, because he said “my girl” twice in the last twenty seconds.

Am I?

His girl?

I’m not sure how I can be anything when he’s thrown my entire life into disarray, but I can’t think about that now. The way he continues to tunnel in and out of me is beyond distracting, and all thoughts completely abandon me when Logan slams deep, holds himself planted, and then shudders hard as he releases inside of me. I carefully study his face, the way his cheek is pressed up against the outside of my leg, still resting on his shoulder and secured to my other leg by virtue of my jeans.

Logan closes his eyes… groans… grinds against my ass and then groans again.

I want him to tell me how good that feels and how much I mean to him then I want some explanation as to why he went behind my back to Bridger and outted me. Instead, when I sense he’s empty, he opens his eyes and pins me with a hard look. Any sweet words of cherishment that might have been forthcoming during that moment of bliss right after orgasm clearly not forthcoming.

Logan pulls out of me, and I feel the rush of his semen running down the crack of my ass. He lets my legs drop unceremoniously to the couch and rolls off, tucking his half hard, glistening dick back into his jeans.

“Get dressed,” he says curtly. “We need to figure out the best way to get your dad to talk to this attorney Bridger’s friend suggested.”

He did not just say that to me.

I sit up, swing my legs off the couch, and pull my underwear and jeans up, wincing over the feel of wetness that runs down the inside of my legs before being sopped up by my pants. I give a hop, pulling my zipper up. As I’m buttoning, I tell him, “Bite me, Logan. You do not dictate my life.”

He looks at me warily. “I’m not trying to dictate your life. I’m trying to help.”

“By betraying me?” I ask incredulously. “Did it occur to you that you’ve just put my dad in very real danger… getting other people involved?”

“Bridger wouldn’t have—”

“If you would have just left well enough alone, I could have finished this last job and been free from Magnus forever,” I say, talking right over him. “I was so close to being done with that man and this life. I would have protected my dad in the process, and it would have all been okay. But you’ve screwed it all up.”

“I was trying to protect you,” Logan says as he takes a step toward me, arms stretched out in supplication.

“You were trying to protect yourself,” I sneer at him. “You couldn’t stand the thought of me being with someone else. Well, at least not with someone you deem to be unfit, but it was clearly okay to share me with your buddy.”

“That’s not—”

“You were protecting yourself because you’re being proprietary over what you consider to be your property now, you fucking caveman—”

Logan lunges toward me, grabbing me by my upper arms and giving me a little shake before he snarls, “I don’t think you’re my property. I care about you, goddamn it.”

I roll my eyes, completely disbelieving his words and the casual way he throws them about. “Oh, yeah,” I taunt him. “You care about me?”

“Yes,” he says emphatically, his hands gripping me tight.

“Then tell me what happened two years ago that caused you to run from life,” I demand hotly. “Tell me what in the hell happened that caused you to have nightmares so bad you have to fuck me with lube to get rid of them.”

Logan blanches and his hands fall away. He takes a step back and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Tell me,” I press with desperation. “You care about me so much that you’re practically taking control of my life, tell me about Logan McKay and who he was two years ago.”

He gives a shake of his head and his gaze drops to the floor, lips now pressed tight together as an indication of stubborn silence.

“You want me to trust that you’re doing the right thing by telling Bridger about Magnus and me. You want me to trust you in this plan to let the law get involved, in a move that could end up putting Dad and me in jail if things don’t work out the way your buddy thinks they will. You want me to have all this trust in you, and yet you can’t even trust me enough to give me anything of you in return.”

“I’ve given you—” he murmurs, gaze still pinned to the floor.

“You’ve given me your dick and some great orgasms, Logan,” I say quietly. “But let’s be real… that’s about all you’ve given me.”

Okay, that’s harsh and not exactly true. He’s clearly given me attention and care, as well as laughter and redirection from my plight. He’s trying to do right by me in the only way he knows how. But I can’t admit that to him right now because I’m too hurt that he’s not giving me the one thing I want.

The one thing I need if he wants me to take a very drastic turn in my life.

He doesn’t respond to my taunt, so I add on, “I told you the very most secret thing about my life, and I entrusted that to you. I thought we had something… different. I thought you were different.”

Logan’s eyes drag up slowly until they’re locked onto mine, and my heart starts to shrivel by what I see.

A completely blank, ambivalent, emotionless mask that looks a lot like Logan McKay but is nothing more than a two-dimensional image of the man I thought I had an amazing connection with.

There’s no anger.

No hardness.

No frustration with me.

No desire.

No affinity.

No… nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says in a flat voice. “I’m sorry I messed things up for you, and I’m sorry I can’t be what you need.”

Every fiber of my being wants to scream at him in denial. That he could be exactly what I need if he would just give me a little piece of himself. I really don’t need the whole thing, but I need him to show me that there’s something tangible here.

I need more than just silent messages that I can read with sure clarity.

I need him to show me what we have is real.

Instead, he turns away from me, walks to the front door, opens it, and walks out, shutting it quietly behind him.

Disbelieving at what just happened, I stare at the door for a few minutes, wondering if this is a joke and he’ll walk back in. Logan McKay has utterly turned my life upside down. This was from the moment I first locked eyes on him in The Silo. I knew deep in my heart my life would never be the same right in that exact moment. I just never imagined it would turn out like this… with him outing me to Bridger, ruining the con, putting my dad in danger, and then leaving me without so much as a backward glance.

With me falling for him and him walking out without a goddamn backward glance.

When it’s clear that Logan is really gone, I turn from the door and walk over to my purse. I need to head back to The Wicked Horse, because unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of play left. Magnus is coming back tomorrow, and he’s going to be expecting that I’ve kept the con running just fine. He has no clue that it’s been effectively shut down, because no way in hell is Bridger going to let this continue to go on in his club.

Which means I now need to get Bridger to work with me on this. The trick to sell my “virginity” is a bust—no pun intended—and the minute Magnus realizes that, he’s going to come after my father and me. I have to make plans to get my dad and me as far away from Magnus as possible and hopefully help the police put him in prison so we’ll be safe. Until that happens though, I’m going to be sleeping with one eye open and moving through the streets of New York, constantly looking over my shoulder.

Thanks a lot, Logan.