Chapter - 10
ELOISE
My phone buzzed again as soon as the movie started. Susan was settled in one of her ugly accent chairs, me in the other, while Courtney and Josh were cuddled on the couch. It was Friday night, and we were too tired from our weeks to go out and do anything fun or exciting.
Logan: Was that not a good enough apology?
I blinked, confused. Then I realized I hadn’t ever responded to his apology earlier today. I quirked my lips to the side and flicked my gaze up at the TV, pondering how to best respond. I liked that we weren’t at each other’s throats and that we were texting as if we were actually friends.
My heart was starting to pick up its pace for an entirely different form of anticipation as I settled deeper into the ugly accent chair, bundled in a throw blanket, and tapped my response back to him.
Me: It was a solid 6/10, not bad.
I was holding my breath as I waited for his response, hoping that my little text didn’t come off as snobby or truly irritated. The teasing hadn’t ever worked out for us in the past, but a certain type of consensual teasing clearly needed to happen.
Logan: A 6/10 is basically a D, which could be argued as a bad grade.
Me: It’s not an F, though.
Logan: What kind of apology would earn me an A?
Me: You were one of those high-strung A+ students in school, weren’t you?
Logan: I wasn’t high-strung. I just earned perfect grades.
I smirked a little, happy with the tone of the conversation. What was he up to right now? It was late at night, and Susan would be in bed if we weren’t formally having a movie night together. Was Logan out with the guys from his team? Was he home alone, watching some sports channel as he texted me?
Did he want to text me?
Me: A handwritten letter goes a long way, I think.
Logan: Like, with a pen and paper? Do you have any idea how much would have to go into me acquiring a pen and paper to simply write a letter?
Me: How badly do you want that A?
I bit my bottom lip after I sent that text, my pulse picking up a little bit as the movie in front of me was completely forgotten. I had been reading an absurd amount of romance novels the last few weeks, so I had that to blame for the fact that our conversation discussing giving grades seemed like the lead into an innuendo.
I had already told Logan I would let “him” do “things” to me in the voice memos that still haunted me with embarrassment at random times in my day, and we had recovered from that to some degree. Therefore, I didn’t let myself spiral too much about this.
Logan: Hypothetically, if I didn’t have supplies to write a letter at my apartment, what other options would I have to earn that A?
I popped my lip out from between my teeth.
Was this flirty?
Was Logan flirting with me?
Did he want me to say something flirty back?
I pressed my phone against my chest, my brain struggling to come up with something that balanced the line between flirty and friendly. Or should I take a leap and lean flirtier? This felt flirty. It had to be flirty. No grown man texted a grown woman this kind of question in total innocence.
Holy shit. Logan was probably flirting with me.
I didn’t want to think too hard about the excitement I felt at the thought.
Me: Well, unfortunately for you I’m not interested in signed hockey merch or anything.
Logan: That would have made things a little easier on my end.
Me: I’m open to ideas if you have any.
There, the ball was thrown into his court. Or the puck into his rink? The point was, I had thrown the option back to him. I wanted to see if he would get flirty again, or if I was going crazy and misreading the tone of this conversation.
Logan: I have a few, but I’m not sure you would be interested in them.
Me: Oh?
Oh? Good job Eloise. I rattled off something else in an attempt to sound less lame.
Me: Feel free to share with the class.
That…didn’t make me sound less lame. But it was better than a one-word response.
Logan: Are you alone?
I blinked, my mind racing with hypotheticals as to why Logan would ask that question right now.
Me: I’m in the living room watching TV with Susan, Court, and Josh. But they don’t know who I am texting.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Josh fast asleep in Courtney’s lap as she combed her fingers through his hair. Her eyes were glued to the TV. Susan’s as well.
Me: Actually, I don’t think that they even know I’m texting someone.
Me: Why?
Logan: Because what I had in mind is probably best kept private, just between us.
Holy fucking shit. Was he thinking what I thought he was thinking? Was this conversation flirtier than I anticipated? Dare I say, becoming spicy?
Me: Like a secret handshake?
Logan: No, not like that.
Logan: First, I need to know something.
Logan: Were you serious when you sent me those voice messages?
I felt my heart jump up into my throat. Holy shit, he was bringing that up? I thought we were supposed to be talking about ways he could apologize to me. What did those have to do with this?
Oh.
Me: When you say serious, what do you mean?
Because I was a lame, lame person who didn’t know how to properly text a grown man to save my life.
Logan: Do you want me?
My face and neck flushed at the words he had intentionally typed out. I felt a little odd having this conversation over text message, but then I remembered who I was talking to, and realized that being able to write down our messages instead of blurting out words without thought was probably for the best. I gnawed at my bottom lip again, struggling to decide whether to lie or tell the truth. Or come up with an odd gray area between the two.
Me: In the spirit of being honest, I didn’t mean to send those voice memos to you.
Logan: I figured.
Me: But.
Me: To answer your question.
I was such an ass. I hesitated for a few minutes before typing out the rest of my response. I closed my eyes and focused on controlling my body’s physical reaction to the experience of telling Logan this version of the truth. How vulnerable I would be, and how I knew there was a possibility that I would be turned down yet again. Rejected. But I was okay with that. I was Eloise Bane 2.0, the Eloise who didn’t mold herself to make others comfortable around her. I was the Eloise who laid it all out there and let people take it or leave it, in love with myself first.
Me: I do want you, even though I feel like I shouldn’t.
I pressed send before I could talk myself out of it. I swore I felt my heart stop at the sight of the little “delivered” message underneath my text, letting me know he for sure saw it by now. I watched the three longest minutes of my life tick by on the clock on my phone before I saw those three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen, letting me know that he was replying to my confession.
Logan: Well.
Logan: That makes the ideas that I had in mind for ways to apologize to you significantly more fun, then.
Air rushed out of my lungs.
Was he…? Was he talking about sex? With me? He had to have been talking about sex. Was Logan saying that he wanted to have sex with me? Apologize to me with orgasms that I didn’t have to give myself? The thought made a swarm of butterflies take off in my stomach.
Me: Feel free to describe your ideas in vivid detail.
Wow, bold much, Eloise? I was grinning to myself, rereading his last message over and over and over again as I eagerly, anxiously waited for his reply.
Logan: I would if you weren’t sitting in a room with other people right now.
I frowned, not taking the time to second guess my actions before I sat up from my chair and abruptly announced that I was tired and going to bed. Susan simply lifted her mug up to me in farewell whereas Courtney asked if I was okay before I waved her question off and sprinted upstairs. I jogged to my bedroom, quickly shut the door, and locked it (I had heard many stories of Courtney and Beck almost walking in on each other at inopportune times), and got underneath the covers of my bed, and responded to him.
Me: What if I told you I was alone in my room, hiding under my blankets?
Logan: I would like the sound of that, but I would probably want proof.
I smiled, the dirty dog.
I glanced down at my tank top and sleep shorts set, wondering how I could make it look more appealing. I ended up tugging my tank lower, adjusting my breasts in the built-in camisole bra thing so that they looked nice and plump. I also lifted the bottom a little and tried to make it fall naturally on my stomach, showing off my belly button, and tugged the legs of my sleep shorts up a little more to show off my flower tattoo as well as more thigh. I then quickly lifted my phone, bit my lip the tiniest bit, and snapped a picture. I glanced at the image, glad to see some of my face cut off so that only my nose and mouth showed. I was propped up on the elbow of my other arm, which helped my body look a little curvier than it was in reality.
Though Logan had seen me in a skimpy little bikini, so he already knew what I looked like.
I sent the picture to him anyway, adrenaline pumping in my veins from the excitement of what I was doing with him.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had sent a flirty selfie to a guy.
His response came in quickly.
Logan: Fuck, Eloise.
Me: Your turn.
I grinned and smiled even wider when a picture message came in from him.
Logan was also in his bed, making heat flood in my lower belly at the image he had taken just for me. Logan was shirtless, his covers pulled low on his waist so that the band of his boxer shorts was peeking out the top. His head was cut off, but the jagged scar on his pec proved that it really was him. He was all golden skin and sharp muscle definition, with a light dusting of dark hair on his chest. His large hand rested low on his abdomen, just an inch or two away from the band of his boxers.
A second image came in.
I tapped on it with greedy fingers.
His hand was lower, the tips of his fingers tucked just underneath his boxers.
I gasped, my hand naturally falling towards my lower belly where excitement was burning throughout my skin.
Me: Would your apology include letting me touch you?
Me: I think it’s only fair, after all.
Logan: I think it would make more sense if my apology included me touching you.
Logan: You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.
Holy mother of god.
Me: Oh, of course. If you must. But I would probably get distracted if you were shirtless like that in front of me.
Me: I don’t think I could resist touching you back.
Logan: I would distract you well enough.
I believed him. I reached underneath my bed and opened my DIY box, finding my favorite hot pink vibrator.
Feeling bold, I decided to take another picture of myself holding the toy. Then I decided to tug my sleep shorts down just enough to press the tip of it just where I was planning on using it, over the fabric of my panties. I took a second picture.
I sent the images before I could talk myself out of it.
Logan: You’re killing me, sweetheart.
My heart thumped at the term of endearment, but I also chastised myself and reminded myself that this was spicy time, not lovey-romantic time.
Me: Where is your hand now, Logan?
I turned on the toy, teasing myself with it over my panties as my cheeks flushed and I anxiously waited for his reply.
Instead of a message, my phone started buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call.
Oh god, oh god, oh god, I thought as I hesitated. Texting felt safe, like there was a barrier between us as we teased each other. For some reason, a FaceTime call where we could both see each other in real time felt a little too real.
Don’t be a chicken shit, Eloise. I chastised myself before I answered.
My toy was still buzzing in my other hand under my shorts, so I set my phone down next to me propped up against some spare throw pillows I set up before I settled back in my bed and took in the image on Logan’s screen. He was holding his phone with one hand, his handsome face and shoulders taking up the image as he stared at me with a very hooded and flushed expression.
His other arm was moving off-screen, and I zeroed in on the movement.
“Let me see,” I panted, focusing on working myself over with my toy while also enjoying the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I had with Logan right now. “Let me see what you’re doing.”
Logan made a gasping sort of moan that sounded strained, due to his damaged voice. He glanced down at himself before he met my eyes through the phone again. An aroused challenge in his heavy gaze as he lowered the phone down to show his hand hiding underneath his black boxers.
Holy fucking shit. I was watching Logan masturbate. To me. He was looking at me and touching himself from it.
Suddenly, the image became fuzzy as he fixed something on his shorts and pulled the screen back.
He had pulled himself out of his boxers, gripping himself as he pumped roughly.
“Oh, my god.” I gasped, my eyes widening at what I was seeing. I knew Logan had large hands; I had felt them on my thigh weeks ago at the beach. What I was startled by was the proportion of…himself in his hand as he, well, worked himself.
Suddenly, the phone screen showed his face and neck again, and he nodded to me expectantly.
Your turn, his nod seemed to tell me. I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes closed as I tilted the camera angle down a little so that he could see where my hand disappeared underneath my shorts. I then pulled the toy out and pulled my panties away from me so that I could use the toy directly over my clit.
A string started tightening in my core at an alarming rate.
“Do you like this?” I asked him, glancing at the screen to see him nodding his head once. It was like he struggled between keeping his eyes open to watch me, or close them and focus on the feeling he was experiencing. “Do you wish you were here, making me feel like this?” I continued, feeling heat course through my veins at his nod of agreement, his arm moving a little faster at the sound of my question.
“I wish—” My orgasm was rising in me at an alarming rate, and it made words halt in my mouth for a moment before I powered through. “I wish you were the one touching me.” I gasped the last sentence out before it bulldozed through me. I felt my arm stiffen as it held the toy perfectly over my clit, causing waves and waves of ecstasy to pulse through my core and wash over my limbs. My abs were painfully tight as my high lasted and lasted, putting on a show for Logan.
I heard a pained, low grunt from my phone and opened my eyes to see Logan throwing his head back on the pillows on his bed, the veins in his neck bulging as he clenched his jaw and showed off his teeth. His eyes were squeezed shut as his teeth parted and he seemed to gasp through his release. His body jolted a little bit as I imagined what his hand looked like right now.
Finally, the last of my orgasm pulsed through me, and I quickly turned off my toy and tossed it away as I collapsed on my side. My breathing was labored after putting on that show for him.
Logan was still there, eyes closed as he lay on his pillows and caught his breath. His chest heaving.
Reality came crashing back down all around me.
Did I just…? Oh god, I did.
Without thinking about it, I quickly grabbed my phone and ended the FaceTime call. I was feeling embarrassed, and slightly scared from what I had just done. As seconds passed in silence, I knew I rationally shouldn’t feel embarrassed at all. What I had done was totally normal, and we were two consenting adults. Also, and probably more importantly…I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Logan was clearly just as into it as I was, and we both rode the wave until the end goal was met.
But what do we do now?
When we see each other again, do we go about our day as if we hadn’t jerked it to each other over FaceTime?
I lay in the darkness, my muscles slowly relaxing as my body came down from its incredible orgasm, when my phone buzzed with a message from Logan.
Before I could feel even more embarrassed, I opened the message from him.
Logan: Next time, I want to be there to hear those sweet little noises you make.
Logan: I want to feel that pretty blush on your skin.
My mouth dropped open, holy mother of hell.
He wasn’t done.
Was he not embarrassed like I was? Of course not, he clearly wasn’t spiraling about what we had just done. Fuck me. Be brave, Eloise. He’s offering hands-on orgasms, are you really going to say no to that?
Me: Deal.