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LOGAN CARRINGTON
“Should George be eating that cracker?” I yell into the bedroom while watching George with one eye as he devours a cracker in the corner of the kitchen. I know he doesn’t like to be watched it’s another quirky habit of his that baffles me.
Inside the bedroom, Emmy’s sitting on our bed reading.
“Can you not scream that in front of George? It’s diet doggy crackers. Ever since you hit the scene, George has put on a few pounds.”
“A few?” I laugh. “The dog can’t fit through the doggy door. Last night, I had to save him from an embarrassing failure as he tried to pass through it.”
“You’re not helping his ego right now,” she complains, pouting her lips looking all cute and shit.
I grab the remote from the nightstand and climb into bed. I love the sheets are warm and that inside the bed is this sexy woman who belongs to me—my fiancée.
She’s engrossed in reading, wearing her new glasses which she complains make her look like a grandma. I think she looks like a hot librarian—a virgin at that—one who’s never had her clothes ripped off by any man.
“Are you still reading Abbi’s manuscript?”
Emmy nods, barely acknowledging me.
“And?”
She places it down, annoyed at my interruption. “It’s so good. I haven’t put it down since I began two hours ago. Except for now, because you’re needy and crave attention.”
I bury myself into her side, sliding my hand into my favorite spot—the crevice just beneath her tits. Her scent is intoxicating, and I feel myself becoming instantly hard. “I am needy,” I tell her, rubbing myself against her hip. “I need you on all fours and your ass in my face... now.”
She smacks me with the manuscript, bruising my ego only. I pull away and lie on my back. My head’s against the soft pillow, so I switch the television on until she yanks the remote out of my hands and switches it off.
“I’m ready.” There’s a nervous smile on her face and a sudden burst of energy. Odd, coming from a distracted woman who was busy reading only moments ago.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” She removes her tank exposing her tits. Fuck, they’re so fucking perfect I could cry. Seriously—tit heaven. “Oh, and I have something special.”
“A swing?”
“No.”
“Anal beads?”
“No…” she hesitates. “But I guess you could use it in my ass if you want.”
She removes something from under the bed and places it in front of me. It’s a black box. I open it and find a vibrator inside. It’s blue with pink polka dots all over it.
“Apparently, it has multiple speed settings and can get you off in less than a minute. Plus, it’s pretty, don’t you think?” she rambles on.
I can hear the anxious tone in her voice. Something isn’t quite right, and rather than lead with my dick, I watch her with curiosity. She’s on her knees, topless with her eyes wide staring back at me. The corner of her lip is trapped beneath her bite while she twists the end of her hair around her finger almost fidgeting.
“I can get you off in less than a minute,” I remind her, gazing longingly at her chest. “And your nipples are hard.”
“Yeah, they’re sensitive.”
“You’re hiding something.”
She’s quick to open her mouth. “No, I’m not.”
I know her too well, she’s definitely hiding something. But what? Then, it dawns on me.
The day of the week. Monday night. The deadliest night of the week.
