Modern, shiny, meant to impress, that’s The W Hotel in a nutshell. I’ve never stayed in a room here, but I have been to their rooftop bar a bunch of time with my cousins.

The cast Logan and I were last in never hung out here. That’s a good thing. To have that memory is not something we need tonight. I can’t believe I was hung up on Asher, and there was Logan waiting for me to notice how he felt about me the whole time.

I’m wearing very high heels and a tiny, cherry-red dress. My hair is done in loose, wavy curls. I spent more time on my makeup than I usually do. I had to tone down the eyeliner after Mom suggested it might be a little much with this lipstick that matches my dress. Dad took one look at me, flipped around, threw up his hands and said, “I don’t want to know about this!”

I’m usually in workout clothes, jeans, or a cotton sundress that falls to flip-flops or sneakers. Steven was a gym-rat who wore pretty much the same.

Since Lexi and Zoe aren’t single anymore, we stopped going out to clubs or bars. I’m the youngest of the three of us, but they never make me feel like that. Lexi was never the overprotective type, considering we had that in the dual combo of Max and Caden. I couldn’t believe it when they wanted to be there last night, and left their wives to do so.

I smile to myself as I scan a beautiful foyer. The chandelier is more sculpture than light. There are generous bouquets of gorgeous floral arrangements in every corner. The marble tile is so shiny that if it were black you’d be able to see up my dress from the reflection.

I got here a little early.

Forty-five minutes early.

I’m supposed to meet him in the bar so we can have dinner in the restaurant. He didn’t want me coming up to his room first, because he wanted to do this the right way.

I have other plans.

With my pulse quickening I walk past the front desk, sparkly clutch bag in my hand as I head for the elevator. This I can see my reflection in, and I look damn good. Manicured and pedicured. My legs are as smooth as the softest parts of me. I trimmed that special place he’s never seen. I don’t like waxing or shaving inside the bikini line. I like my blonde, soft curly hairs, because they make me feel like a woman. But I do tidy them up until I feel my sexiest.

Like right now.

I knock with three soft taps.

Shift my weight.

Run my fingers down my curls.

Glance to the floor.

Bite my lip.

I hear the door unlocking, and it opens with Logan wearing only a towel. His long hair is wet, sinewy muscles rippling with surprise as he tucks his towel a little tighter. Cobalt eyes travel down my body, igniting my nervous spark into fire with a hungry look. “Wow.”

I saunter into the room, and he backs up to watch as I shut the door and lock it. Logan recovers from his shock at seeing me arrive before our scheduled date, looking like this, and he steps closer as his gaze slowly travels down to enjoy the journey even more this time.

I stand very still as he reaches toward me, and briefly hesitates before touching my bare shoulder. He looks into my eyes. “You’re holding your breath.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Me too,” he thickly whispers as he touches my breasts for the first time. The dress is silky, and his fingers travel over it and make little circles over my hardening nipples. My chest rises with a hitched breath and I stare at him as his fingertips slide lower, touching my stomach, gliding over my hips to give them a surprising squeeze before moving to my thighs. He takes hold of my dress and pulls it up ever so slightly as his eyelashes rise.

The towel is tented and I reach for him but Logan swats my hand away. My eyebrows rise as he smirks, “Tsk tsk tsk.”

Taking hold of my wrists he lifts them over my head and backs me against the wall, lips hovering near mine, so close I can smell fresh toothpaste. His gaze is hooded as an ache pulses in my core, thickening as he slides his free hand down between my thighs and pushes them open. He buries his face in my hair, takes hold of my earlobe with his teeth, and sends warmth down my side as he rasps, “Thought you’d surprise me? Is that what you thought?”

I’m dripping as I breathe, “Uh huh.”

“Wearing this come-fuck-me dress, and these heels that are made to hook around my neck?”

“Logan,” I moan as his fingertips trace the outline of my panties, barely touching me. I close my eyes as a thick ache spreads my legs a little bit more.

My best friend brushes the pad of his middle finger over my panties’s wet crotch in tiny circles as he groans in my ear, gives it a lick. “Were you wet before you got here?”

“No.”

“You didn’t touch yourself in the car on the way over?” His fingers dip under the flimsy fabric and hover.

“Did you want me to?” I ask pressing my cheek to his.

He pushes back, nibbles my ear some more, and gives my pussy one teasing stroke. “I want you to touch yourself whenever you think of me. I want you to remember my fingers touching you like this, when you do it. I want you to remember the first time I ever touched your clit. How I caressed the sides of it like…this. How I listened to you moan and learned that you’re more sensitive on this side.” He chuckles with the power he’s got over me. “When you turn yourself on, remember how I slid down and pressed my finger into your body up until the first knuckle like this, then the second, then…all the way.” We turn our faces and start kissing. He tears away, eyes locked with mine as I wince with pleasure. “I want the image of my cock pressed against you while you begged for me to show you what it looked like.”

“Please show me what it looks like!”

“Stick your tongue out.”

I do as I’m told and he flicks it with his, just one lick before Logan stares into my eyes and slowly withdraws his finger to circle my throbbing clit. My moans become higher pitched, breathy, my breasts heaving as he holds my wrists above my head.

“Which side was it that you prefer,” he smirks, finding it, teasing me to distraction, but just shy of relief.

“You bastard.”

“Now Samantha, that’s not very nice. I thought you were supposed to be a nice girl.”

“You thought wrong.” Our lips lock and mold each other as our tongues lick, taste, dance. He’s cupping my pussy, only vibrating a couple times so that I can’t come until he wants me to.

Logan chews on my lip and demands, “Do you have any clue how many times I fantasized about fucking you?” His finger slips into my folds. “Think I’m gonna let you run the show? I want you to beg for me to finish you. I want tingles concentrated between your inner thighs, traveling up to your neck, the top of your head, until you can’t think straight anymore. I want the ache so deep, so intense that you can’t keep your eyes open or your pulse intact. I’m going to add a little bit more pressure to the side of your clit, increase my flicks while I barely touch you and then double down just a half second. You like that?”

“Please!” I whimper.

He brushes his lips against mine, and pulls away as I reach for a kiss. “Please what?”

I want to tell him to please fuck me, but I think if I say that, he won’t do it. And I want it so badly. “Nothing.”

“Okay.” He releases me and walks away, gorgeous back undulating as he opens his towel and closes it again. He did that because he knows I want to see him, and he’s facing away from me! “I’m going to get ready for dinner.”

Still pressed against the wall, I drive my hands under my dress hem. “Come back.”

Logan cuts a look over his shoulder, wet strands of hair hanging over his eyes as he sees what I’m going to do. He runs back so fast that the towel unlatches and his cock bounces free.

My breath hitches at the sight.

Much larger than I expected.

I moan, staring at it.

Dropping to one knee, Logan takes my hand. “Will you marry me, Sam?”

“Ask me again,” I smirk, “when you have a ring.”

Blue eyes smoke up as he shakes his head like he’s angry at me. Staying down there, he slowly pulls up my dress and gazes at my matching panties. Tugging them down inch by inch, he leaves them mid thigh as he stares at my pussy. “You're beautiful.” I inhale deeply as he spreads me with his fingers and gives my clit a little lick. “So wet. Salty sweet.” He tugs the panties out of the way, leaving them hooked on only my right ankle. His tongue goes to work just like his fingers did. They quicken and slow their pace like he knows me.

And he does.

My tummy clenches as the burn starts pounding in my walls. I want something inside me. Anything! His finger would be okay. But I’ve got my eye on the length that hangs between his thighs as he squats with a dancer’s strength, never losing balance or focus. “Going to cum for me, Sammy? You going to cum on my tongue?” I spread my right leg open a little more. He’s sucking and licking my pussy until I cry out, heat coming in thick hot bursts of pleasure. Logan growls like some primal beast who’s caged with his prey on the other side taunting him. He wants to be fucking me right now, but making me cum like this is so satisfying since he’s in control of us both.

Unwrapping my pussy against his tongue, he groans and slides a finger inside to give me really slow pumps as a seed bursts inside me. I start swearing under my breath because the contractions are so sweet.

This is Logan doing this to me.

My friend since childhood.

The best friend I almost lost.

Because I didn’t see real love had been staring me in the face all along.