Some Kind of Hell (7 page)

His eyes were wide like he had overstepped the lines and as though he were about to get shut down.

Not at all, not even close.

“Logan... touch me...”

That was all I needed to say. I hated the feeling of his hand leaving my breast, but as his fingers spread wide and made their purpose well known, moving down my body and stomach, I knew where he was going. When he touched the top of my jeans again, I shuddered and sighed obviously loud. At this point, Logan and I weren’t kissing but just staring at each other. That was perhaps even hotter than kissing. I could only focus on how my body felt and reacted to his touches. He moved with such confidence and ease, it left me melting for him, feeling as though I was succumbing to his every need and command.

When he opened my jeans, he slipped his hand down but stayed over my panties. Again, he was confident enough to enjoy my body and not have to hurry up. My hands touched his back again to feel the way his muscles flexed and moved with each movement he made. His fingers curled down and around between my legs, pressing against my panties. I could feel the burning heat transferring to his fingers. I was so wet by then that my panties clung to my body. I wondered if Logan could feel it. Then one of Logan’s fingers touched the side of my panties. He moved my panties out of the way, allowing the tips of his fingers to graze along my delicate, wet folds. My legs jumped and I thrust at his fingers, not expecting the move.

Logan smiled, his eyes radiating and capturing me with some kind of sweetness yet his fingers between my legs were anything but. He continued to play, touching me, rubbing me, and just when I thought I was reaching my breaking point to cry out for more, Logan pressed his lips to mine and inserted one of his fingers into me. I cried out as we kissed and his finger slid deep. My body welcomed him and welcomed the movement that came next as he fingered me. His other hand pressed against my back, forcing me tight to him. He took his finger out of me and away for a second. Now Logan hurried, going down the front of my panties. His fingers glided along my smooth skin until he touched me again. This time he wasn’t so slow and gentle. His middle finger touched my clit and rubbed for a few seconds, almost sending me over the edge. I buried my face into his neck, crying for him, wanting more.

So much more.

Two fingers touched me at my tender center and were lost in me. He pressed hard and began to move, slowly at first, gently working himself into a faster motion. I heard him breathing and felt his heart racing. This wasn’t just some hookup and I wasn’t just some girl to finger. It had more meaning. What the meaning was I didn’t know, and quite honestly, I didn’t care. I just wanted Logan to keep touching me, to keep enjoying me.

I gripped the top of his jeans and pulled. The space I created by pulling made it easy for my hand to slip into his pants. I was over his boxers and felt him a second later. The thickness. The hardness. Logan groaned and pushed at me. His fingers moved faster, almost pulling, wanting our bodies touching. I was ready to do anything for him. Anything he wanted.

Logan moved so his lips touched my ear again.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

“What?” I asked, almost out of breath.

“Don’t do any more,” he said.

My hand squeezed over his boxers.

How could I not do anymore to him? My hand was right there?

“This is about you,” he whispered.

I had no idea what that meant, but it teetered on the thin line between erotic and romantic. It didn’t matter though, because the soaring pleasure through my body started to take over. I could feel myself already there, ready to explode.

Logan picked his head up and touched his forehead to mine again. We played some kind of flirty game with the tips of our noses touching, our mouths open, teasing each other with the possibility of another kiss. All the while my hand touched him over his boxers and his fingers pleasured me.

“Lift your shirt,” Logan commanded. “Right now.”

The sweet romantic guy suddenly became the wild rockstar guy. In the blink of an eye. But honestly, nothing sounded hotter than when he said that to me.

I had to take my hand from his pants and I moved to my back, finally, and lifted my shirt. I only did it a little, teasing Logan, but he wasn’t buying into it at all. His fingers exited my body and he purposely kept his wet fingers against my skin as he moved his hand up. I felt the wetness of my own body being spread against my skin. He took a handful of my shirt and lifted it, exposing my breasts. I gasped as I watched it happen, wanting it, feeling my body aching for his touch again.

“There,” he said and slowly crept his hand back down my body.

When he returned to my slit, his fingers picked up where they left off. He pleasured me hard, and fast, enjoying the way my chest moved as he did so. His eyes were battling between staring at my face and at my chest and body. He made his decision when he slid down a few inches and placed his lips to my right nipple. I cried Logan’s name and gripped the bed sheets. He had no idea what the move did to me until he found out a minute later...

“Logan,” I whispered, “oh, Logan, I’m...”

Logan’s mouth opened, his lips spreading beyond my nipple. His tongue tasted me now, circling around my erect nipple. I tried to moan but as I did, Logan closed his mouth and pulled a little, taking everything with him.

His fingers were fast and perfect, his kisses amazing on my chest. My fingers were tight around the sheets, pulling at them. If I had still been touching Logan’s back, I would scratch him to the point of bleeding by then. My body lifted and rocked, needing and wanting it. I realized we were alone in the house so I let out a long cry of relief as my body came to a climax. The rush was everywhere, head to toe, everywhere in between. I throbbed as I came, Logan’s fingers still moving, ushering all the pleasure out of me. He then began to kiss up my chest, only stopping to lift his head over my shirt, before he kissed my neck. His fingers gently circled around the folds of my body. He brought me up and eased me down.

At my lips he lingered. His fingers came to a stop, but they didn’t move. His hand gripped me between my legs. It was like a commanding sign that he now had me.

“Logan.” It was all I could say.

“You don’t need to say a thing,” Logan said.

His lips touched mine, gently, almost fluttering.

His hand was gone and he rolled to his side. I was left a hot mess for a few minutes, the room spinning from the vodka and the orgasm. I sat up and fixed my bra, wishing it was Logan’s hands holding my chest tight and not some garment I bought at the mall. I fixed my jeans but knew there would be no real comfort there until everything dried. Even then... the wild mess...

I put my head back to the pillow and turned to face Logan. I stared at the back of his head and body. I touched his shoulder with the very tips of my fingers. His shoulder moved for a second and that was it.

My eyes grew heavy and I tried to fight it off.

I didn’t want the night - or morning, or whatever the hell it really was by then - to end. It was the first time I felt truly alive in a long time.

More than Logan could understand.

~7~

I woke to the sound of beeping.

It was so freaking annoying that I put my head under the pillow and moaned. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet and my head felt like I had hit a brick wall.

The beeping continued and I thought maybe I had set the alarm on my phone and it was going off. I’m sure it would have stopped in a minute if my head could have handled a minute. As far the pounding in my head was concerned, the beeping had been going on for hours, maybe days.

I finally reached for the sound and found my phone on the floor.

The beeping wasn’t a voicemail or text message, it was a reminder.

On my calendar.

The screen flashed as it beeped, reminding me that today I’d find out about my grandfather. I promised myself I’d call him to check on him and keep his spirits high. He was so close to finding out if he still had cancer. I hated not being there with him and for him, but he was the one who didn’t want me there, sitting around with him. I understood what he wanted, but I promised him that I would bother him all the time.

I pressed the button on my phone to get the calendar to stop beeping.

“What the hell was that?” a groggy voice asked.

I froze, the night rushing back to me in the matter of a second. Not that I had actually forgotten about the night before. Thinking about Logan and his hands all over me made it that much more real.

“Reminder,” I whispered as I rolled towards him. “I have to call my grandfather today.”

“I hope he’s good,” Logan said.

“He will be,” I said. “He’s tough.”

Logan blinked a few times, the sleep leaving his body. “Was he important to you?”

“Very,” I said.

I didn’t want to get into the details of my own childhood, but I knew if anyone would understand it, it would be Logan.

He nodded.

He touched my cheek and moved the wild strands of hair out of my face and tucked them behind my ear.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Like hell,” I admitted. “Totally worth it though.”

“Whatever,” Logan said and smiled.

I shook the bed and moved closer to him. “Shut up, Logan.”

He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me on top of him. Everything in my body reacted. His hands were just below my breasts, almost tickling me at my ribs as he positioned me over him.

“Thanks for staying last night.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said.

“I told you we’d cuddle.”

“I didn’t know what cuddling meant to you.”

“I’m a rockstar, what did you think I’d do?”

The flicker in his eyes and the way his smile grew gave my heart a little life. I wanted to literally spend the entire day in bed with Logan, but my stomach started to growl. I needed water, coffee, and food. In that order.

And fast.

“I guess we should find the rest of the guys and girls,” Logan said.

I didn’t want to agree with him and while I never technically did agree with him, an hour later I found myself full of food, with a pounding headache, and running towards the bathroom of the apartment with Maggie behind me begging to go pee before I took a much needed shower.

I let her go first and then I showered, taking my time, not only trying to relieve my killer headache but I spent most of the time looking at myself, imagining where Logan had touched.

After the shower, I sat on my bed in a towel, my hair wet and falling wherever it wanted. My phone sat next to me. Part of me seriously wanted to look at yesterday’s date. Just to remember all that had happened. I ended up at a DownCrash show, backstage, then the band’s practice garage, and finally, in bed with Logan.

Just like that.

Without planning it.

I dressed myself in something comfortable and casual, then went to my wall. In a move that would rock the world -
or not
- I grabbed the calendars off my wall and threw them to the bed.

A second later, I heard the faked shriek of Maggie’s voice.

I was caught.

“Don’t say a word,” I said.

Maggie shook her head. “One night with Logan and look at you.”

“Cut it,” I said.

Maggie backed away and left. I didn’t see her for almost a full day.

I had work that night, a shift that was way too busy for the lingering hangover and torn feelings I had for Logan. But I managed and got home just before one in the morning with enough in tips to pay the bills for the month.

A total score for me.

As I crashed to my bed, I grabbed my phone, like I usually did before falling sleep. Usually I would check the date, the time, think about life -
fine, I would think about Jared and wonder if he was in our old bed with his pregnant girl
- and then sleep. But that night, I looked at my phone, thinking about Logan.

The next morning I woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Maggie talking. She talked loud when she was nervous or excited. I sat up and took a deep breath. I stretched what felt like every muscle in body, and finally felt good.

Back to normal.

I threw the covers off my legs and looked at the wall where the calendars used to be. It felt good not to care so much about time and what had happened.

Or what hadn’t happened...

That was my first thought when a wave of terror struck me.

I forgot to call my grandfather the day before.

I stumbled to my phone and my hands shook as I opened the calendar.

Right there, yesterday, was the little note. The note telling me to call him. The note I would have seen if I had looked a hundred times like I usually did.

Maggie knocked on the inside of my wall and said, “Good morning! I have to tal-”

“I forgot to call my grandfather!” I cried out. “Yesterday. I told him I would.”

“Calm down,” Maggie said. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“How do you know?” I asked. “Did you talk to him?”

“Whoa,” Maggie said. “First, you need coffee. Then, you need to call him. And after that, I need to talk to you.”

Maggie put her hands up and slowly backed away.

I opened my mouth to apologize for being so crazy, but I didn’t say a thing. My own guilt bothered me. Maggie disappeared into her room as I had a sip of coffee. I dialed my grandfather, knowing he’d be awake. By ten in the morning he would have been awake for at least five hours.

I waited as the phone rang.

I hated waiting.

I feared the worst.

He wasn’t there.

He was at the hospital.

There was an emergency and nobody called me.

“Hello?” his voice boomed.

I sighed and smiled.

“Grandpa!” I yelled. “How are you?”

“Ah, there she is,” he said. “My Annie Girl.”

“I’m so sorry I forgot to call you yesterday.”

“Yesterday? What was yesterday?”

“I said...”

“Was it my birthday?” my grandfather asked.

“No,” I said.

“Was it Father’s Day?”