“I can’t simply move in here permanently. What would people say? How would you hide something like that from your family?”

“I don’t care about any of that!It’s my problem to figure out, not yours. I’m serious; you’re not going back there. The only options you have at this point are my reporting what happened last night, or you moving in here permanently so that there is no chance whatsoever of this happening again! I’m sorry if you don’t like the position you’re in, but I’m not taking any more chances!”

I’m sure I must sound shrill and panicked, but I can’t allow this conversation to get any further without the resolution I need. I’m pathetically desperate, and at the moment, not at all willing to look at the reasons for my desperation. But am I so desperate that I would actually report what happened last night, effectively damning myself and my career in the process? I have the somewhat despairing feeling I would, and I’m not prepared to deal with the why behind it either. She just has to agree.

Looking solemnly at me from across the table and obviously seeing the anxiety written on my face, she stands and approaches me. “Please, just let me think about it.”

I suppose it’s better than a refusal. Perhaps convincing her in a more unconventional way would better serve my agenda as well as my desires. I pull her gently down into my lap, the simple touch of our bodies releasing all of my pent-up anxiety. As I start to relax, my plan of attack starts to form in my mind. She studies me for a moment longer, concern written all over her face, and I take the opportunity to latch on to her mouth greedily and hungrily, our connection flooding through me like the strongest of aphrodisiacs.

It doesn’t take long for me to rearrange her body so she is straddling me. Once again, the warmth of her body is snug against my hardening cock. I pull her T-shirt over her head and see that her nipples are already taught and waiting for attention. I appease her needs and spend a ridiculously long time touching, licking, sucking, and nibbling at them as she looks on enthralled. I can feel the heat continue to rise between her legs. I lift her to the table in front of me, intent on fulfilling one of my most cherished fantasies of her on my kitchen table.

As I slide her underwear down over her hips and off her lean legs, I can see the now dark bruising on the backs of her thighs and a wretched flash of fury passes through my mind. I spread her legs open to me, seeing instantly how ready she is, and my anger abates in an instant as my hunger for her takes over. The slick, wet folds of her virgin pussy are begging to be touched and stroked, and I start devouring her instantly.

* * *

How can this man want me? The whirlwind of events since last night are spinning me in circles, and I can’t seem to wrap my brain around everything that has happened. After Logan consumed me again, I escaped to the bathroom to take a shower, and it is this smallest of emotional reprieves that has afforded me a short time to try to clear my brain. Honestly, I never expected such a reward for getting the shit kicked out of me. Gee, had I known that’s all a girl had to do to get a little attention… Attention? Attention is what you get for wearing a push up bra; this was more than attention. What the hell was this? Logan completely took me by surprise last night and every waking second since then. The strength of his body, the size of his erection, the incredible need between us both, watching him come and knowing it was because of me—because of my touch and nothing else. I just didn’t realize how strong desire could be. And it wasn’t just me! His desire was equally strong, or at least it sure seemed to me to be, but how?

Is it possible he could really be attracted to someone like me? I’m not beautiful, I’m not curvy, I’m not boobalicious, and I’m certainly not knowledgeable in any of the many ways that he’s toyed with me over the past twelve hours, but when he touches me and looks at me, I feel like I’m the beautiful one. But if he’s really attracted to me, why won’t he make love to me? That’s what I want from him more than anything. I want to give myself to him and for him to own that part of me. I want him to need me so much he can’t bear not to have me in the most intimate way possible. I want him that much. I just wish he wanted me the same way.

I’ve been standing under the hot jets of water long enough for my body to turn into a wrinkled prune, but I’m still no closer to wrapping my head around this new and incredibly erotic dynamic to our relationship. Relationship… Is that what we have? No. He’s leaving so soon to start a brand new life in Denver, and I’ll be off to Ann Arbor to begin a life of my own soon enough—away from insane drunk fathers and away from memories of dead mothers and away from him… My heart hurts at the very thought, and my breath is sucked right from my chest as the idea hits hard. It isn’t as though it’s occurring to me for the first time. I’ve thought about it often, but I always manage to push it away, rationalizing it’s happening later, later, later… But it’s not later, it’s almost here—now!

My shower’s done nothing but convinced me confusion really is the only way to feel, so I give up on the hot water and decide more caffeine is in order. As I look at my naked body in the mirror, I see my nipples looking rather abused and bruised, and I blush at the memory of how many places and how many times his mouth has been on my body since last night. It’s hard not to think of the many past memories I have of Logan—memories that so completely conflict with these new memories of him—him with his family, playing as children, him and his friends hanging out playing video games while Sara and I played dolls and dress up. And not in one of those memories could I have ever imagined where I’d be now.

As I turn to dress, I catch the ugly black bruises running up the back of my legs to my rear, and I’m reminded of just what Logan has given up for me. He was desperate when I questioned staying with him full time. I hadn’t even told him no, and he was suddenly ready to throttle me. He’s gone beyond any measure I could imagine to protect me and keep me safe, so why should I balk at the idea of staying here with him? It’s not as if I want to be anywhere else. I have a car now, so it’s not as if I rely on Sara to pick me up for school any more. What’s more, Logan seems to like his life quiet and simple. He has many friends and always has, but he seems to like his home to be a quiet one. I’ve not ever seen friends or even his family pop over unannounced. He’s independent and in control of his life. Maybe we could get away with it for another couple months…

As I wander back out to the kitchen, feeling overly waterlogged but refreshed, I see Logan is working on breakfast. I slide my hand up the back of his T-shirt, wondering all the while where I suddenly got such nerve as to so boldly touch a man. Oh yeah, picked up a little nerve last night … and maybe a bit more this morning. He reaches his arm around me, pulling me gently to his side before leaning down and kissing me on my forehead. I blush as that word pops in my mind again, “relationship.” Is this what a relationship feels like, I wonder—close, comfortable, warm, safe, thrilling, erotic, and smelling deliciously of pancakes…

As we sit to breakfast, I decide to set Logan’s mind at ease. “Logan, I’ll stay here. Full time.” And the look that comes over his face is all the appreciation that I need, and quite frankly, don’t deserve. Relief floods over him, and the tension is suddenly gone from his beautiful features.

Chapter 13

We can’t get to the trailer to pick up my car and clothing until my father leaves, which likely won’t be until the evening when he heads out to paint the town in drunken vomit. Since I have to work, Logan decides he’ll take me and pick me up, and we’ll go over to the trailer together after I’m off. And the moment I step out of the back door of the bistro at closing time, I sense his anxiety. I know he’s nervous my father will come home, and after the night before, I am, too.

As we enter the trailer, he pulls me hastily down the hall toward my room. It is still disheveled and torn apart from our little one-sided boxing match the night before, and Logan sets to work immediately. Collecting clothes and any other personal items I might need goes a lot quicker than I expect; I suppose it has more to do with the fact I really don’t own much of anything. And within fifteen minutes, we’re out the door and loading my bags into the back of my Wagoneer. There’s a better than good chance my father won’t even notice I’m missing from his life. And quite frankly, I’m counting on it.

Sara calls while I’m on my way back to Logan’s, asking if I want to come over for the night. I’ve spent less time with Sara recently than I ever have in the past, and as much as I want to be with Logan, I also really want to see Sara. It is agony not being able to share my life with Sara the way I always have, and because Logan has become such a big part of my life, I feel as though I never spend any real time with Sara anymore. I miss her terribly, and while I know I can’t talk to her about any of the things I desperately need to talk to her about, I also know I need to spend time with her all the same.

After we carry my meager worldly possessions inside and dump them on the spare room bed, I tell Logan I’m going to stay with Sara for the night. He looks momentarily stunned before shaking it off and pulling me into his arms. He leans down and kisses me deeply, pulling gently on my bottom lip with his mouth. “Well, at least your lip doesn’t look too bad.” Of course, I’d forgotten about my lip, but after a bit of lip gloss I’m looking as good as new, and I’m out the door.