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My Tiny Dancer looked at home as she practiced her ballet moves. Quietly, I made my way to the bottom step of basement and sat down. As much as the others hated the amount of time the two girls had been spending together, I was grateful Phee had her. She had helped my Tiny Dancer so much, in such a short space of time.
As ‘Citizen Soldiers Would Anyone Care’ filtered through the room, I watched her transition from practicing her movements, into a routine. It was captivating. The last time I’d watched her dance, I was full of hate, unable to fully appreciate it. But now, it was like watching a story unfold in front of my eyes.
There was so much emotion, it was raw. I watched as she lost herself in the music. The way she spun on the tips of her toes, she moved with an air of grace. As the song hit the bridge, Phee twirled into a body roll, and dropped to the floor. Sliding backwards, she pushed herself off, coming to a halt when she saw me.
“Don’t stop,” I pleaded with her, as I got up and made my way to her. I felt a little guilty that I’d stolen that moment from her. It was the first time in a long time she’d looked like her old self. “It was beautiful.”
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to creep on people?” She was annoyed, which I guess was to be expected. I had encroached on her practice. “It doesn’t matter anyway; I’m not feeling it anymore.”
I had to do something. I got why she was mad, but that didn’t mean she had to stop. As she stormed by me, something inside me snapped. Reaching out, I took a hold of her arm and spun her around.
“Stop running, Phee,” I whispered against her lips. I watched her pupils dilate as the same spark of electricity pulsed through our bodies.
“Who said I was running, Logan,” she said as a smirk started to form on her lips and she stepped into me. I could feel the warmth of her body that I so desperately craved. “The only person here that runs is you.”
Chapter Twenty Three - Phoenix
I didn't even get two feet from him before he grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall. Breathing heavily, I thought that I must have hit a nerve, but I could fucking care less, much like he didn’t when he treated me like shit. It was unfair of me; I knew that. Logan had been trying harder than he probably should.
“I fucking hate you, Ducane,” I grated out as he trapped me against the wall.
“No, you don’t, Phee, but keep telling yourself that. If hate is all you have to give me at the moment, Tiny Dancer, then I’ll take it.” My heart was beating rapidly as he leaned in. Cheek to cheek, he whispered in my ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down my spine. His right hand cradled my face. “Because that just means you felt something more than that once.”
I inhaled sharply, the scent of his woodsy cologne hitting me hard, that warm sensation pooling in my belly. I didn’t understand how he could elicit these feelings, and I didn’t care, because the need to be touched was stronger, to feel anything but the helplessness I had been drowning in.
Staring him in the eyes, I saw the same wild look I had reflected back. This was happening, consequences be damned. Embrace the darkness, that was the advice Paige gave me, so that wasexactly what I was going to do. Reaching up, I grabbed Logan by the shirt and pulled him in until our lips crashed together, teeth clashed against each other, in a frenzied race to devour the other.
Pushing off the wall, I walked him back until we’d swapped places.
“This means nothing,” I panted breathlessly, pulling at his shirt and tossing it aside. I nipped at his neck, as he fumbled with my bra.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, baby,” he growled into my neck, as he bent down and picked me up. “Just know that this is not a one-time thing, Phee. We do this, then it’s going to be a permanent kind of arrangement.”
Flipping us around, he pushed me up against the wall, trapping my hands above my head with one hand as he used the other to deftly stroke my aching pussy. I could feel the delicious pressure building as he brought me closer to the edge. The touch of his skin set mine alight. This thing between us was like fire and ice. It had been building for a while, just waiting to explode.
Our lips found each other once more as he frantically devoured my mouth, like it was his last meal. There was nothing romantic about what we were doing, just two people fulfilling carnal needs. His need to conquer something that was not on offer, and mine to escape from the painful memories.
Swallowing my groan, I couldn’t help but grind against his hand. I hated being teased, and he kept me hanging on the edge. With a feather’s touch, Logan trailed his fingers slowly down my arm, before fisting my hair, tugging my head to the side, where he kissed and sucked his way to that sweet spot. Using the distraction, I arched off the wall as he slid a finger through my wet folds.
“Are you soaked for me, Tiny Dancer?” His voice was heavy with lust as he started pumping in and out slowly, curling his finger so it scraped across my inner walls, sending me cascading over the edge. “Fuck, that’s a beautiful sight.”
“Oh God,” I couldn’t help my breathy moan as I soared high with my orgasm. Snaking one hand around his neck and pulling him close for another hungry kiss, I skimmed my other down the hard planes of his abdomen until I reached his jeans. Fumbling with the buckle, I managed to get them undone and free his rock-hard cock.
Wrapping my hand around it, I started to stroke, up and down, matching his pace as he added another finger inside of me.
“I can’t wait to feel your pussy clenching around my dick,” he groaned against my lips as he continued his frenzied attack on my pussy. He needed to shut the fuck up and just fuck me already. Did he think talking was going to change how I felt? Not fucking likely.
I pushed my own confusion down as I pushed his hand out of the way and lined him up to my dripping pussy. Taking the hint, Logan impaled me hard and fast. The sudden invasion of his length stretching me had sweet pain ricocheting throughout my body. Something that I should have been ashamed of, but I had come to realize that there was pleasure to be had with a little controlled pain.
We stilled against the wall for a minute, as he let me adjust to his length, before he slowly started to thrust in and out, his hand squeezing my side.
“Faster,” I moaned into his neck before I bit down, stifling my cries. This wasn’t a sweet love-making session; it was just sex. Raw, unadulterated, hate sex. I needed to get off, and he was just a means to an end. “Harder.”
Raking my fingers down his back seemed to snap his resolve; as his thrusts went deeper, my back pushed up against the wall with a bruising pleasure. He needed this as much as I did. Each thrust hit the same spot, which had me seeing stars. Our skin slapping together, and our not so quiet cries of pleasure were the only sounds that could be heard. I was thankful our other roommates had left.
“Fuck, Phee. You. Feel. Like. Heaven.” Each word was accompanied with a thrust, as his hand trailed up my body until he got to my breasts. Taking my nipple, he pinched, hard. I cried out as fireworks exploded in front of my eyes. The orgasm that took hold had me shaking. I started to feel his cock twitching as I came undone, and with one final, hard thrust, he released a soft groan, and his dick throbbed inside me as he reached his own release.
Slowing his thrusts as I rode the last of my orgasm, he rested his forehead against mine. The myriad of emotions swarming between the two of us was loud. Deep down, I knew he was right. This wouldn’t be a one-time thing.
