Chapter 29
LOGAN
The slick stranger looks up at me, taking in my size, and his expression falters. “Are you with her?”
Yes, I want to snarl. Now I know how the badass assassin feels every time his frustrating little fae mate catches the eye of other men simply by being her radiant self and having the bad luck of existing in a world—much like our own—where men have no respect for personal boundaries.
But instead of staking a public claim, I glance sideways at Frankie as if we’ve just met. “I can tell she’s not with you.”
He scoffs and drops his hand to her shoulder.
I wasn’t going to touch him, but he touched her first. Reaching down, I grab the front of his shirt and haul him out of the booth. “You were just leaving.”
“Hey, man—”
I lower my voice and tighten my grip. “All the way gone, asshole. Or I’ll personally escort you outside and introduce your face to the pavement.”
“Jesus Christ, she’s not worth it.”
He’s so fucking wrong. But that’s for me to know and for him to never understand. I let go of his shirt and watch him nervously look left and right, then head straight for the door.
Good choice.
Then I turn back to the booth, realizing belatedly that I don’t know how Frankie would feel about the caveman display. But the wide-eyed look of surprise she gives me is warm and appreciative.
And that’s the limit of my ability to stay away from my gentle-hearted girl tonight.
“I need to borrow her,” I say to Liz, curving my hand over Frankie’s shoulder possessively, wanting to erase any lingering vibes from his brief contact with her.
Her roommate waves us on. “Take her away, no need to return her. I’m going home with the bartender, and Sloane has already left, so…”
Thank fuck.
“Let’s get out of here, then.” I offer Frankie my hand and help her out of the booth.
She bumps into me and I wrap my arm around her, brushing my lips against her ear. “Sorry for being jealous of that guy touching you.”
“That’s…” She twists around and plants her hands against my chest.
Then she glances past me, probably calculating what kind of an audience we have.
Fuck me.
“This way.” She tugs me in the direction of a narrow hallway heading behind the patio.
It leads outside, to an alley, and while we can hear the raucous laughter of my teammates from the other side of the wall, we’re in the shadows and this is as private as I can ask for.
She spins around and backs herself up against the wall, giving me the green light to brace myself against the brick and finally be alone with her.
“You didn’t have to come to my rescue,” she whispers.
“Agree to disagree.”
“You were pretty…” She winds her arms around my neck and searches for the right word as she arches against me. “Brutish.”
It sounds like a compliment, and it makes my dick hard.
“Didn’t like someone else touching my wife, that’s for fucking sure.” I stroke my fingertips along the side of her neck, making her eyelids flutter half shut as I sink my hand into her hair and tug gently. “You’re mine to protect, Frankie. Mine to rescue. Mine to touch.”
“Yes,” she whispers.
I crush my mouth against hers with a kiss, pouring every bit of pent-up need from the last few hours into it, since I saw her in my jersey during warmups.
The pride I felt playing in front of her, knowing she was cheering me on when I scored, the frustration of not being able to go to her after the game, the possessive fury of watching that asshole touch her.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.” Her fingers burrow into my hair. Electric sparks of pleasure race beneath my scalp as she pulls me down for another kiss.
“I want the whole world to know you’re my wife,” I mumble against her lips. Her pulse races under my lips as I drag the kiss down her neck. “I know, not yet. But I don’t want there to be any doubt in your heart that I’ll be proud to claim you publicly when the time comes.”
She whimpers, and the sound nearly undoes me.
I haul her tighter against me, spinning us around so my back is against the brick and my hands can slide up under the jersey to squeeze her denim-clad ass. My jersey. My number on her back, my name emblazoned across her shoulders.
My tongue in her mouth.
“Let’s get you home,” I grind out between kisses. “I need to be inside you.”
Her hands are already working at my belt. “Home? That’s so far away.”
“Francesca…” I mean it as a warning, but it sounds like a plea.
She unzips my fly and squeezes my cock through my boxers, her fingers clever and sure.
Yes, I want her like this. Yes, I want her now. Yes, yes, fucking yes.
“I know it’s bad,” she pants. Now her fingers are in my shorts, stroking my bare flesh, and my brain short circuits.
My hips snap, driving my dick against her hand, taking that pleasure for a moment before I fight my baser instincts for control.
Gripping her wrist, I pull her incredible touch away from my cock.
“Bad?” I shake my head. “It’s not bad to want your husband inside you.”
I yank her hand up to my mouth so I can kiss the inside of her forearm and think for a second. She giggles as my chest heaves, but her laughter fades to barely contained micro moans as I nose the loose arm of the jersey up, up, up until my mouth is on the inside of her elbow.
I suck the skin there, my tongue ravenous for any taste of her.
She thinks this is bad, and she wants it anyway.
Fuck it.
I find her gaze, glittering in the dim light of the alley as I set her hands on my chest and squeeze my fingers around the intoxicating curve of her hips. “Is that what you want, Frankie? I need you to say it.”
She holds my eyes, unwavering and clear. “I want you inside me.”
“Good girl. You have to be quiet,” I rasp as I work her jeans and panties down. “You can be loud when we’re finally in your bed, baby. But right now you need to press your lips together to keep those pretty moans inside, understand?”
She nods frantically.
I work my fingers between her thighs, stroking around her pussy first, then more directly over her plump, aroused lips already coated in slick honey for me. “Horny girl,” I whisper. “Ride my hand.”
She rocks her hips, grinding into my touch, pushing my finger between her lips, against her clit, and then—fuck—right to her slick, tight entrance, where she’s even hotter, softer, and wetter.
“You feel so fucking good. What a treat for me, getting to finger you in secret like this…” I work one finger into her, up to the knuckle, then a second.
“That’s it, that’s the way. This can’t be bad, Frankie.
Not when you feel this good. Can you take another finger?
Yes you can, you sexy thing. I’m going to fill you to the brim. ”
She clutches at my shirt, anchoring herself to me as her thighs start to shake.
I find her clit with my thumb, making her jump like a live wire.
“Shhh.”
But she is being quiet, so quiet.
“Are you going to come on my hand? I can feel you clenching. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? You need to come like this, because once I’m inside you, I’m not going to last long.”
I curve over her, burying my face in her neck as I whisper pure filthy truth to her. Her skin is so soft and I can’t get enough of how she tastes, how she smells. The sounds she makes, trying so hard to be good but fully needy and willing to be bad to satisfy her desperate cravings.
Her lips brush my beard, my cheek, and then we’re kissing again, sharing breath and spit and secrets so hot they could burn everything down if we aren’t careful.
And we aren’t being fucking careful right now.
I’m playing with fire as she rolls her hips beneath me, spreading her hot little legs as much as her jeans allow. Her cunt is fucking soaked.
I should make her come like this, and then take her home. Wait until I can stretch her out beneath me, bury my face in the soft skin of her throat and keep it there instead of having to keep my head up, aware of anyone interrupting us.
But I’m not going to. The second she clamps down on my fingers, I’ll spin her around and notch my cock into place.
I’m needy, too.
Desperate, in fact. Willing to be terrible tonight, the last night I get with my bride for months.
“Always want to make you come twice.” I don’t mean to say that out loud, exactly, but it’s true. I’ll always want more, want her to make those sounds again and again. “I fucking love feeling you come for me.”
With a gasping cry that I cover with another rough kiss, Frankie starts fluttering around my fingers, her clit stiffening and her pussy crushing my hand.
Fuck yeah.
“That’s my girl,” I whisper, holding her clit, feeling her pleasure pulse in waves through her body. She shudders once, twice, and then sucks in a deep, fortifying breath.
I ease my fingers out of her cunt.
“Push your pants down more.” I fist my cock into the night air as she wriggles them down to her knees, then I spin her around and bend her over. My erection slaps against her ass. “Show me where you want this.”
Bracing herself against the wall, she pushes up on her toes and arches her back, my jersey sliding up to her waist.
My. Jersey.
Her ass is lush and round and perfect beneath my number. I palm one round globe, creating space for my cock, and I sink into her honey. From the first hot clench of her cunt around my cock, bare and perfect and mine, nothing else matters.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, my head falling forward, curving over her, hunching my back like a rutting beast. “Frankie—”
She trembles between me and the wall, her hips shoving back against me. I grip her waist tight, holding her where I need her.
It’s desperate and raw and the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
“So good,” I manage, my thumbs digging into her hips. “So fucking perfect for me. Taking me so well. Give me another orgasm. Your pussy feels so good when you come.”
“Logan, I’m—” She’s already close, I can feel it in the way she’s tightening around me.
“That’s it, baby. Come on my cock. Let me feel it.” I slide one hand around to her belly, then over her mound, finding her clit again, and it’s so sensitive she shatters immediately.
The feeling of her pulsing around me, the sound of her pleasure, drags me into my release right along with her. I wrench out just in time to spill on the ground, my knees buckling, wrapping myself around her as we both shake through it.
I don’t want to let her go.
She starts to twist away, to straighten up. I hold on to her hips as she turns around, my jersey falling over my hands.
“You feel so good,” I whisper as I kiss her forehead.
I mean the soft lushness of her ass, I mean the little shape of her, folding fully in against my chest. Mine to protect, mine to worship.
But I also mean what we just did, too. She feels so good on me, around me, every damn time.
Better than anything I’ve ever experienced before. Better than I ever imagined.
You feel like love, I want to say, but that’s not alley talk.
“I can’t believe we…” She laughs, breathless.
“We’re fine.” I cup her face and kiss her mouth softly. “Let me help you.”
I kneel and slide her panties up her thighs, followed by her jeans. Dressing her again, but only for as long as it will take us to get to her bed.
I almost tell her that I love her when we stumble down the hallway in her little house and I ricochet off the doorframe of her bedroom.
But then we’re kissing, and we’re naked, and she’s stroking me against her belly, until I’ve slicked her with enough precum that she scrambles for a condom so she can ride me.
You feel like love, I say with my eyes and my hands.
But I’m groping her lovely tits at the same time, so that would be crass.
And then she’s coming, an unexpected peak that steals my breath, and this time I don’t have to pull out, so I can snap my hips up, thrusting all the way into her belly, and lose myself in the release.
Feels like forever, too. Forever. That’s something to hang on to as I think about getting on an airplane tomorrow.There’s time later for the l-word. I’m still in the woo-ing my wife stage.
“Hey, so I wanted to ask you something…” She walks her fingers up my sweat-slicked chest once she’s tucked her naked little body in against my side. “Two things, actually.”
“Anything.”
“I want to meet your family before your sister’s wedding. We can’t spring hey I’ve got a secret wife on your family at your sister’s wedding.”
Startled, I laugh. “Fuck, yeah, of course not. We’ll work on the logistics. And it kind of depends on when you want more people to know…”
“Liz told Merry tonight. The bartender?”
“Oh, well if Merry knows…” I tickle her side, then chuck her under the chin, notching her head up so she can see my face. “Are you coming around to the idea of people finding out that I honey trapped you in Vegas?”
“Stop.” She pushes up, resting her hands on my chest, then her chin on her hands. “But yes. Not until the season is over, because I couldn’t bear it if this turned into a drama while you’re chasing down a playoff spot.”
“It won’t be a drama.” I sink my hand into her hair, rubbing her scalp, wanting to make her purr. “What’s the other thing you want? Is it an on-demand car service because you shouldn’t have to take the train anywhere?”
“Didn’t your forty-eight hours here show you that taking a car anywhere is just as bad?” She sticks out her tongue. “That’s why I have a bike.”
“Great, now I’m having nightmares about you being sideswiped while on a bicycle.”
Now it’s her turn to try to tickle me, but I’m not ticklish at all, and I also have fifty pounds of muscle on her, so I let her do her worst, then flip her onto her back and pin her down.
Breathlessly, she licks her lips as she stares up at me.
“You wanted to ask me something?” I prompt her again.
“Will you come to my graduation? I mean, unless you’re playing in the Cup Finals, of course. It’s the first week of June, and there’s a ceremony and I need to put in ticket requests for family, which until this week was going to be a big fat zero tickets needed, but—”
“Yes.” My voice scratches, rough and emotional. “Yes, I’ll be there.”