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“Hmm,” she nods. “L-Logan.”
“My tight, horny woman,” I grunt. “My tight, perfect woman. Nobody else touches your wet little pussy, do they, Emma? Just me.”
“Just you,” she moans. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Her walls flutter witheachyes, just enough to let me push and slide my dick inside. I gasp, staring down, forgetting about everything else. The ice. My friend. All I can feel is her tight heat clasping my end, stroking further down my cock as I glide inside her.
She closes her eyes and clenches her fists. Her lips twitch into a cute smile once I’m all the way in. I look down at our bodies, completely joined. It seemsright,as if this is what we were made for—to be together.
I lean down, my skin getting hotter as I approach the fire. Her body is temptingly warm. I lay against her, slowly pull out, then thrust in, quicker this time. She gasps right in my ear.
I turn my cheek and catch the noise. I fixate on it. It moves my gaze to the living room, too. So I can watch for Michael? I don’t think about that, just her. As I drive deep, her moans get more and more passionate. I lean up again, watching her breasts bounce for me.
“Just for me,” I grunt. “You never moan like this for anybody else. Those tits never bounce like that for anybody else. Understand?”
“Yes, yes,” she gasps. “Oh, L-L-L…”
“Your pussy’s getting tighter,” I groan. “Oh, fuck, are you close already?”
“I don’t know,” she whimpers. “Just don’t stop. Puh-pl…”
Please, she’s trying to say, but neither of us can talk. I thrust into her faster, causing the table to jump around. Pressing down against it with my hand, I hold it still, pounding into her. I want her so bad—the future. I need to explode inside her. My seed belongs inside of her.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she gasps, then bites down.
I watch as she experiences her second orgasm. I can feel this one pulsing around my dick as I push into her. Her pussy is clenching around my cock. I’m not sure how much longer I can take it.
She grabs my shoulders and digs her fingernails in. “Are… you…”
That’s all the encouragement my body needs. With a snarl, I pump into her harder, savoring every inch of her pussy, her warmth. The walls of her slit squeeze onto me as though coaxing my seed out, as though part of her knows this is where this has to end.
I almost roar when my length fills with intense pressure. Then, my ability to think is gone. All that exists is the pleasure—ten seconds or ten hours of feeling utterly connected to my woman, of not having to doubt. As I come, I know we will make this work… somehow.
A moment later, I collapse against her, heaving. The fire seems to flicker. The balcony seems to get darker, but nothing has changed physically. It’s just the aftermath of what we’ve done.
Quickly, we get dressed. We don’t even look at each other. It feels so seedy. It’s wrong. I hope she doesn’t think I’m using her. But what’s the alternative? I tell her the truth, that I want her, that I need her?
Her clothes are messy. She hasn’t replaced her tights. She looks up at me, biting her lip. Looking so damn sexy, I could do it all again, even if that would mean doubling the risk.
She looks at me and then at the floor. I try to think of something to say. Then I remember the ice, just me andMichel, the hours and hours we played. The video chats more recently, the laughter, and feeling like I could let my guard down. What have I done? What thefuckhave I done?
“Logan—”
But I don’t hear the rest if she says anything else. I throw the door open and almost run across the suite. I’m being a coward. That’s twice today that I’ve failed to be the man I should be. There was the tantrum in the locker room, and now this, but this is so much worse.
I’ve left her out there. Just as bad, I know I’ll have to lie to Michael again and invent an excuse. He’s only here one more day, but I can’t see him. I don’t know how I’d look him in the eye. I’ve betrayed him. Maybe I’ll have to let the friendship fade. Go back to being alone, just me and the ice.
CHAPTERSEVEN
SIX WEEKS LATER
Emma
I don’t think Chrissy knows she’s digging her fingernails into my arm as we stare at the pregnancy test. Chrissy is my best friend, the only person I’ve told about the crazy night with Logan. I was starting to think it was a wild fantasy, but the test proves it was real.
“This is nuts,” she says, letting my arm go and dropping onto my computer chair.
It’s November, but the sun shines through the window, making me almost long for Quebec. But why? Logan left, then ditched Dad the next day. He hasn’t had a single video call with Dad since. Dad has mentioned he thinks it might be because of how drunk he got that night, but mostly, he doesn’t talk about it. He just focuses on his work.
