More, Please (21 page)

~ ALLIE ~

In her dropped waist gown of ivory lace and
English net, Bess Foster Griffon must be the most beautiful bride I’ve seen in
my life.

Enchanted by the romantic image, I watch
her and her new husband in his Army dress blues walk beneath an arch of sabers raised
by men in uniform. Some wear Navy uniforms, and some Army, Logan points out.

“We call it a sword arch, but they call
it a saber arch. It’s pretty much the same thing. You’ll want to get your
camera ready for the next moment,” he adds as Bess and Tyler reach the final
set of sabers and they drop in front of them, entrapping them momentarily, as
the couple kisses.

Grinning, I snap a photo on my phone.

“Not for that moment,” Logan corrects.
“For this one.”

The sabers rise and Bess gets swatted
gently on her rear with a saber by one of the saber bearers. “Welcome to the
Army, Mrs. Griffon,” he says and everyone applauds.

Taking a photo again, I find myself
laughing and crying at the same time, and I don’t even know the couple. But I’m
pulling for them. Something about being here, a part of these traditions, makes
me feel closer to them. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be married
to the military, but I’m betting this is a couple who will survive it.

Bess’s daughter walks toward a
horse-drawn carriage with Bess and Tyler following her. She looks like a little
angel, dressed in the purest of whites, with her flower’s girl gown cascading
behind her as she piles herself into the carriage.

A second carriage picks up the wedding
party and I spot Maeve and her husband among them, looking even more stunning
than in the photo I saw of them. The carriages take a ride along the historic
buildings that surround the traffic circle and then the horses pick up a trot
as they head down Duke of Gloucester Street toward the dock where they will
meet the reception boat.

“Is it my imagination, or does the whole
wedding party seem to be made up of happy couples?” I comment, watching how
they all seem joined at the hip.

Logan laughs, watching the horse pick up pace.
“Not your imagination at all. Maeve and Jack are a couple, of course. Then
there’s Lacey and Mick, and Lacey’s sister Vi and Joe—or Captain Shey to
me.”

“Captain?”

“Yep. A SEAL commander. I may be out of
the military, but the guy will always be Captain Shey to me. The other two couples
in the party I don’t know. Must be from the groom’s side.” He gives a nod at the
crowd of people headed toward Main Street. “Do you want to walk to the boat? Or
we could catch a cab.”

“Let’s walk,” I say, content to tuck my
arm inside the crook of his and enjoy the evening. I’m wobbly on Cass’s
borrowed heels, but the sight of the stars sparkling above us as we saunter
slowly down the brick-paved street is the perfect remedy for my aching toes.

Logan doesn’t seem in a rush, and neither
am I, as we pick up conversation with a few of the other guests headed toward
the reception.

There are so many people here who recognize
Logan from his time in the Navy. Again, I try to envision him as the Lieutenant
Commander he once was, wiping my mind clear of images of him in his t-shirts
streaked with dirt and paint and the khaki shorts that always are stuffed with
things like drywall screws or a tape measure. My eyes gaze at him in the light
offered by the streetlamps and I can imagine it somehow now—him in a
crisp white uniform issuing commands and taking charge. Taking risks I can’t
even fathom, simply because he is proud to serve our country.

How strange it still must be for him to
have separated from the Navy and the SEALs. The military is more than a job; it
seems to be a way of life. And even to my untrained eyes, I can see how foreign
a civilian lifestyle must seem in comparison.

By the time we reach the boat dock, Maeve
swoops Logan into a hug. I would feel a hint of jealousy—she’s simply
that gorgeous and I’m only human—but before I can, she tosses him aside
and pulls me in for an embrace, too. “So glad you could come, Allie,” she says.

She knows my name?

“Logan has told me so much about you.”

Logan told her about me?

“This is my husband Jack.” She guides me
to Jack before I can even answer her, and her husband gives me a warm hug. The
guy is built from steel beneath his uniform, and I wonder if he’s a SEAL, too.
If I knew anything about all those shiny emblems they wear on their uniforms, I
bet I’d be able to tell. But to me, they are simply eye candy.

“Thanks so much for coming, Allie,” he
says.

“I’m just so happy to be invited,” I
finally answer. “Bess is such a beautiful bride and they look perfect together.
And her little girl is precious.”

“She
is
precious, isn’t she? She’s
my goddaughter, you know.” Maeve tugs me away from Logan while sending him a
playful wink, and he follows close behind as she introduces me around. My head
spins from trying to remember all the names, but no one seems to mind if I
forget a name or two in this crowd.

“They’re so welcoming, Logan,” I comment
when we’re finally able to sit down for dinner.

“It’s a good crowd. Military tends to
stick together around here, and on most bases that I’ve been on.”

“It’s like a big family,” one of the
other bridesmaids chimes in, leaning into our conversation as she approaches.
Lacey, I think is her name, and she bobs her head lower toward us to talk. She
and her husband were stationed in San Diego for a while, she tells me, and Logan
and she talk fondly of the place he still calls home.

After the boat leaves the dock, I’m
mesmerized by how beautiful Annapolis looks from the water in the nighttime. Logan
points out the landmarks as we pass—the Capitol, the steeple of St.
Mary’s, and the yacht club, unmistakable by the swarm of expensive boats docked
in front of it.

We later pass the Naval Academy skyline
and he shows me Bancroft Hall, and the dome of the chapel illuminated against
the dark sky.

I’m enchanted by this city, unable to
pull my eyes from it until I smell the crab cakes that have just been placed in
front of me by a white-gloved waiter, making my mouth water. As I take my first
bite, my eyes press shut as the taste of the lightly seasoned blue crab floods
my taste buds.

That does it. Hell with Newton’s Creek. I’m
an Annapolitan now.

Later, Logan drags
me—literally—onto the dance floor. I should be completely
humiliated by the spectacle I’m making of myself. I’m a horrific dancer. But
I’m having too much fun to even care as I stand next to Bess’s little girl who
is admirably trying to teach me the Electric Slide.

Logan pulls me close when a slow song
starts, and I’m grateful to let the world slip away for a few minutes while I’m
lost in his arms. For all the loud music, I can barely hear him speak. But when
he holds me, I can feel his heart beat and I swear mine beats in perfect
synchronicity.

After the bride tosses the bouquet, Logan
whispers in my ear, “I’m dying to get you alone.” The goodbyes and good wishes
we share with the people I’ve met tonight are said in the haze of champagne, and
we’re on the water taxi again before I know it, snuggling close as the boat
takes us toward our B&B in Eastport.

I must have staggered a little getting
off the boat—I’ve always been a lightweight when it comes to
champagne—because Logan lifts me into his arms and carries me the two
blocks to our inn. I start to doze in his arms. But just as I do, I feel the
soft bed beneath me as he sets me down.

I’m going to have a hangover tomorrow. And
I don’t even care.

~ ALLIE ~

The upside of being a lightweight is that
I get drunk off so little, I barely feel the pain the next day.

I’m lying naked in the soft queen size
bed with Logan’s arms wrapped around me and his chest at my back. He kisses my
neck softly, murmuring words that have me moist with desire. I roll to my back
to face him. His smile is like morning coffee to me; I need it for the day to
officially begin.

“No headache?” he asks.

I shake my head no. What I’m feeling in
my skull could barely be classified as a headache, and I don’t want him holding
back with me this morning.

There’s something about waking up in a
cozy hotel room with him, the bed a little too small to share with a man as
tall and broad-shouldered as him. I love the way I feel more of his skin
against me in this bed, and I’m ready to ask him to swap his king size mattress
for something smaller.

“I can barely remember getting back here
last night,” I comment, images of the reception surfacing in my brain the same
way champagne bubbles rise to the top. I’ve been to a few weddings, but
honestly haven’t ever been to one as much fun as Bess and Tyler’s.

“You were a little tipsy.”

“I don’t remember. Did we…?” My voice
trails as he grins at me.

“I’d like to think that if we did, you’d
remember.”

I laugh because he’s right. “Well, I’m
sober now, so I’m hoping you’ll make it up to me.”

An eyebrow raises. “Make it up to you?
You’re the one who drank too much. Not me.”

“Oooh,” I say quietly, nudging him onto
his back. “You’re absolutely right.” I touch my lips to his chest and plant
kisses down his abs leading to where he is already hard and ready for me. “So
sorry about that, Logan.”

“I’ll forgive—” His eyelids slam
shut and he silences himself as my tongue touches his cock. I taste his
saltiness as I trace the head with the tip of my tongue and slide it downward along
the outer edge of him to his root. A curse escapes him as I take him in my
mouth. I can’t take him in fully. He’s too big for that. So I tap into my
creativity and stroke the base of him with my hand as I move his cock in and
out of my mouth.

My eyes look upward to see his reaction.
His neck is arched as he reaches his hand to my hair. He’s gentle with me, and not
insistent that I even try to take him in deeper. But I’m desperate to bring him
satisfaction and I ease him in a little more. I swallow as the tip of him
reaches the back of my mouth and he fires off a curse, pulling me off him.

“Keep that up and I won’t be able to stop.”
His voice is gravelly as he reaches for the box on the nightstand.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do. The best part of sex with you is feeling
you shatter when I’m inside you. You won’t deprive me of that.”

He’s sheathed himself and I’m still on
top of him, straddling him as I take him in. I moan in satisfaction, feeling
myself stretch to accommodate him. He feels so different when he’s beneath me
and I’m the one in control. I whimper at the feel of him throbbing inside me.
Sliding upward, my body immediately craves his length again, and I drop myself
down on him so hard I feel him ram against my depths.

“Careful, baby. I don’t want to hurt
you.” His voice, his tenderness, nearly have me coming undone in that very
moment.

My lips meet his as my body moves again
upward and then down again. I’m so wet around him, it’s stunning, making the
motion so smooth and erotic. I wonder how fast he wants me to do this. Despite
my vast knowledge of sex toys, there are so many things I really have yet to
learn about pleasing a man with my own body. I want to learn all these things.
From him.

Only from him.

“Tell me what to do,” I say.

His eyes widen slightly as he looks at
me.

“Do you like it fast or slow?” I ask,
hoping he won’t laugh at my question.

His smile is seductive. “Slow at first is
nice, then fast just before I’m going to come. Fast and hard then.”

“And what else? What else do you like?”
I’m curious now.

“I love to suck on you when you’re on top
like this,” he says, arching his neck and taking a nipple in his mouth. His
saliva practically sizzles on my skin as I move my breasts closer to him.

I murmur, “I like that,” and slide up and
down on him slowly now, pressing him against my clit when he’s deep inside me. My
muscles start to tighten up around him at the sensation. I drive him in deep
again and again till I feel my eyelids lower, caught up in the sensation of
having him throbbing inside of me as I feel his teeth and tongue toying with my
nipple.

He pulls his mouth away from my breast
and I nearly cry in protest. My nipple is wet with his saliva and my breast is
pink from the pressure. Against the chill of the AC, the bud gets even harder,
just as he takes my other breast in his mouth and suckles.

I’m so caught up in the sensation, that I
nearly have to remind myself to move again. He’s spoiled me, I realize, always
taking over in bed, letting me feel all the sensations without any of the effort.
I crack a smile just at the thought of it.

What a wonderful way to be spoiled.

Lowering myself onto him again, I linger
a little longer in the position, enjoying the pressure of where our bodies meet,
and feeling my own need growing.

His mouth leaves my body again. “And I
love to feel you come when I’m inside of you. It’s the most incredible
sensation, Allie.”

I feel his cock throbbing just at the
mention of it.

“Let me feel that now, baby,” he says.

I rub against him more, with him so deep
inside me. He grabs my ass and shifts me slightly, causing his cock to ram up
against my G spot. “Logan,” I cry out at the rush of need that suddenly consumes
me. My channel seizes up around him.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it,” he urges,
as I ride each wave of sensation, thrusting my body against him. The moment my pulsating
ceases, he pushes me onto my back and thrusts deep and hard inside of me.

“What you do to me, Allie,” he says as he
chases his own need now, driving himself into me so hard I can feel my own
climax within reach again. Our bodies are slick as they move against each
other, and every sensation seems magnified. Every nerve ending of my body is
firing as my toes curl up and my pelvis arches.

My hands move to the span of muscles on
his chest, then grazing along to his shoulders and over to his rippled back. So
much power I feel beneath my fingertips as I caress him. So much power inside
me, hard and desperate.

I can tell when he’s going to come now—I
know the feel of him that well. I can sense the moment when his cock gets so
hard that there’s no way he can hold back. And my own body instinctively rises
to the same apex, ready to release the moment I feel him let go.

And let go he does, breathing out my name
in unison with my cry as my body shudders beneath him, milking the orgasm for
the pleasure it brings to every square inch of my flesh.

***

I’ve never actually had to run to catch
an airplane. Most of the time, I tend to arrive way too early, playing games on
my phone for at least an hour because I overestimated, again, how long it would
take me to get through security.

Not so, today. Logan and I spent a little
too long enjoying those last moments in our hotel room and found ourselves
tearing across the airport corridor toward our gate. We literally made it
within seconds before they shut the gate on us.

Well, maybe it was a minute or two. But
when I tell the story to my friends, I’ll definitely say it was seconds.

Now, safe in our seats, I can only laugh
as my heart pounds in my chest.

“I really need to workout more if I’m
going to be chasing airplanes like this,” I say as I turn to him.

“I think our problem was that I gave you
too much of a workout this morning as it is,” he responds with a chuckle,
giving my seatbelt a tug to make sure it’s secure before he checks his own.

It’s little things like that that I love
most about him.

My heart pinches slightly at that
thought.

My eyes catch a glimpse of the Chesapeake
Bay after the plane takes off, and then it turns to soar toward the landlocked
Midwest where I’ve spent my entire life.

Logan belongs near the water—in a
place like Annapolis or his beloved San Diego. And it’s only a matter of time
before he outgrows this land-tolerant phase he’s going through and realizes
it’s time for him to be where he is destined to be.

Far away from me.

I love my life in Ohio. Even though the
lure of the Bay and the incredible scenery I enjoyed this weekend is tempting,
Newton’s Creek is where I’ve started planting my roots. I have my organization
there, my two jobs, my wonderful friends. My memories of my dad.

I glance at him as he puts his seat in
the reclining position, struggling to stretch his legs in the tight quarters.
“Next time, you’re not talking me out of first class,” he says, darting me a
meaningful look.

A smile eases up my face at the sound of
his low, teasing laughter.

I’d leave the Midwest in a heartbeat to
be with Logan, I realize. But would I regret it?

I give my head a slight shake. No matter.
Logan’s never even told me he loves me, much less asked if I’d be comfortable
following him someplace other than Ohio.

The flight attendant passes me a soda and
I thank her, grateful for the cool liquid to snap me back to reality.

It’s hard to not think about the future
after going to a wedding, so I cut myself some slack, ripping into the small
plastic bag of pretzels I’ve just been handed.

Logan passes me his bag. “I’m sorry we
didn’t leave in time to catch lunch.”

“I’m fine. I’d much rather have been in
bed with you than sitting in some airport food court.” I can feel my heartbeat
picking up its pace even at the recollection.

He intertwines his fingers with mine, and
I look down at our hands, realizing how perfectly they fit together. His hands
are so much bigger than mine, it should look like I’m being swallowed up in his
grasp. Yet it doesn’t. It just looks
right
.

“Thank you so much for taking me, Logan.”

“You’ve said that enough already. Thank
you for going. I never would have come if you hadn’t joined me. Maeve told me specifically
that she owes you for that. Anytime you want to visit wherever they happened to
be living, you’ll have a place to stay.”

I grin. “Any chance I could convince Jack
to take a job in Hawaii, then?”

He laughs. “Plenty of Navy presence
there. Is that where you’d like to live one day?”

I shrug. “I’ve never even been there, so
I can’t really say. But I think it would at least be a nice place to visit.”

“Beyond nice. It’s paradise. Quite
literally, paradise.”

As our flight soars away from the
coastline, Logan tells me all about the places he lived while he was in the
Navy. I love to hear him talk about his past this way, with joy in his eyes
rather than the fury and guilt I see when he talks about his final year with
the SEALs.

His words have me on a journey to Monterey
and Miami. To Germany and Australia. I settle into my seat, resting my head
against his shoulder as he talks, his calm voice lulling me to sleep and my
hormones getting me riled up at the same time.

I wonder how one would go about getting
into the mile-high club while flying coach? A laugh bubbles up inside of me at
the thought, but I tamp it back down, not anxious to interrupt the images of
faraway places that Logan is painting in my head.

 I am completely lost to him.

The landscape outside my window starts to
look more familiar, vast stretches of crops sliced into perfect geometric
shapes by rural roads. I’m excited to see home approaching, anxious to check my
email and phone messages, find out how our dogs are doing, and tell my friends
about the incredible weekend I had.

The best weekend of my life, actually.

I grip the armrests tightly as we begin
our final approach. I don’t mind flying. But the landing part kind of throws
me. Seeing my white knuckles, Logan takes my hand in his, and immediately all
the anxiety flows outward from my body. His presence has so much power over me.

Our plane touches down and the brakes
slam, and I squeeze Logan’s hand in response till we come to a near stop,
taxiing slowly to the gate. He looks at me. “Welcome home, Allie.”

“It’s good to be home.” With you, I want
to add, but I don’t. But it’s undeniable. Home is so much better with Logan.

We’re herded like cattle off the plane
and toward baggage claim, and I pull my phone from my purse to check in.

I turn it back on and see a text message
from my realtor pop up.
“Allie, I’ve got news. Call me.”