LOGAN & SAMANTHA
“Have you seen my brush?” Samantha called from the bathroom.
Her brush? Seriously? “No, I haven’t,” Logan yelled back as he was putting on his watch, standing in the bedroom near his dresser. He kept everything right there in the same place he always did. That way nothing would come up missing.
“Are you sure?” she asked, sounding frantic now.
Logan glanced down to ensure he’d grabbed everything he needed: his wallet, his keys, and his watch. Turning around, he went toward the bathroom to try and help Sam. “We need to leave in a few minutes.”
“I understand that,” she retorted. “But I need to find my brush.”
“Where did you have it last?”
The look she gave him was meant to make him wither into ash and blow away. Logan grinned as he moved around behind her. Clearly, she was stressed. She tended to get that way on Monday. Any Monday, in fact. It was as though for the entire weekend she morphed into a different person – a little more carefree than usual, and on Monday morning she was back to her cute little professional, although somewhat anal-retentive, self, only then she couldn’t seem to find anything she needed.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, Logan rubbed slowly, kneading the already tight muscles. Shit. It was only seven o’clock. The woman would be one giant knot of tension by the time they made it into the office.
Sam met his gaze in the mirror above the sink and Logan watched a little of the tension drain out of her. When she leaned back into him, Logan damn near forgot what they needed to be doing. Ok, so he did forget. In fact, he forgot everything except for this woman. The woman who smelled so good, the light scent of her perfume or maybe it was just her shampoo, hell, he had no idea, drifted toward him and made his body tighten.
He was forty years old; he’d been married for more than a year to this incredible woman and it didn’t seem to matter how many minutes passed, he still wanted her with a fury that defied logic.
“Sam,” he groaned when her hand reached behind her, snaking between their bodies as she began stroking him slowly. “Baby, we’ve got to get to work.”
“In a minute,” she said breathlessly as Logan moved his hands down to her breasts, cupping them as he watched her in the mirror. “As soon as I find my brush.”
Right. Her brush. There wasn’t a chance in hell they were going to find her brush any time in the next few minutes because he was going to have her skirt hiked up around her waist, and his cock buried deep inside of her in less than…
“I need you, Logan,” Sam moaned. “I need you right now.”
… a minute apparently.
Logan urged her forward, until she met the vanity, releasing him as she put her hands down to prop herself forward. Without wasting a second, Logan pushed her skirt up with one hand while he unbuttoned his slacks with the other. Within seconds, he was buried inside of her, staring over her head at her beautiful face in the mirror while she watched him.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he told her as he slid deeper.
Logan fought the urge to look at his watch. They were going to be late for a Monday morning staff meeting and Xavier was going to give him shit about it, but Logan just couldn’t find it in himself to really give a shit at the moment because Sam just felt too damn good.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned when she tightened her internal muscles around him. “God, yes. Do that again.”
And she did. Until Logan couldn’t take anymore, and he was plowing into her from behind, fucking her with wild abandon because the tight sheath of her body felt so damn good. If he had his way, he’d stay buried inside of her day and night.
“Logan,” Sam moaned, her eye closing as she hung her head low, her arms locking as she pushed back against him. “Yes!”
Logan knew she was close, so he didn’t slow down, just gripped her hips on both sides and slammed into her over and over, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from coming too soon.
“Are you close, baby?” he asked when sweat broke out on his forehead.
“I don’t want it to end,” she whispered, her hips jerking as she slammed back against him over and over, meeting his thrusts relentlessly.
“I don’t either,” he said, his words punctuated by every thrust. “But I’m not going to last.”
“Oh, God, Logan!” Sam groaned.
“Touch yourself, Sam.”
He’d do it for her except he could hardly breathe, much less move. The velvet grip of her pussy was too good, and he feared one wrong move – or right one in this case – was going to send him over the edge.
Watching her in the mirror, Logan couldn’t see her hand as it eased down between her legs, but she was looking back at him again, and he could see the ecstasy etched on her pretty face. “That’s it, baby. Come for me, Sam.”
“Harder,” she moaned, her eyes closing as she said the word. “Faster. Harder, please. Oh, God!”
Logan held on – barely – as Sam’s pussy gripped him painfully tight, her orgasm detonating as she screamed his name. That was all it took and Logan was following her over.
As they stood there, both of them trying to catch their breaths, Sam leaned just a little to the left, reaching for the door knob that would open the small linen closet where they kept their towels. As she reached inside, obviously to get a towel to clean up with, something fell to the tiled floor with a clatter.
Logan grinned as he noticed what it was. And when Sam finally met his eyes again in the mirror, she was smiling too. “Is that the brush you were looking for?”
“That would be the one.”