I couldn’t deny that I liked Logan. I was also extremely attracted to him. Who wasn’t? He was everything a woman would want and more. Had it all been different, I would’ve let Logan pound me on the yacht just like Tyson did to Ashley.
Don’t even think about those demons. Focus on Logan.
I went to the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine, and poured a glass.
I might have been a mess, if not for Logan spending time with me today, listening, and even offering to distract me.
Against my will, I smiled.
Damn. He said he would have me forgetting my name. How good is his dick?
Taking a sip of my wine, I checked the window. Logan had already left.
For a minute, I imagined what would have occurred if I had let Logan stay. If we had some wine and chatted. . .Logan may have talked me out of my panties.
That would have been a great sight for Tyson to walk into. Logan fucking the shit out of me.
A hot image entered my head. Logan slowly entered me, slipping his thick, long cock inside of my wet pussy. I felt the vision deep within my core. My body reacted as if he was right there, as if we were actually fucking. My pussy moistened. My nipples hardened.
I gripped the wine glass hard, using it as an anchor as delicious sensations rippled through me.
Fuck. . .Logan. . .
My phone buzzed.
I blinked myself out of the vision. Clearing my throat, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the screen.
Logan: Are you sure you don’t want me there with you and your brother? I no longer trust Tyson.
I typed back.
Me: Tyson better pack his bags and then go. My brother and I won’t be playing with him.
Logan: Alright. I trust your judgement.
I warmed at that text and took another sip of my wine. I was about to put the phone down when it buzzed again.
Logan: Mia, I’ll always ride or die for you. Just point the problem out. I’ll get rid of it and even bury the body.
Me: Thank you. That goes both ways. I have several shovels.
My heart warmed. I believed Logan would have my back and more. I put down my phone and finished my glass of wine.
Everything is going to be okay.
While I may have discovered I had a narcissistic piece of shit in my apartment, I’d also realized that I had an amazing knight-in-shining armor waiting in the background.
And at this point, I desperately yearned to be saved.
Logan. Logan. Logan.
12
Fuck Boys Fuck It Up for Real Men
Logan
M
inutes later, I sat in my car outside of Tyson’s new job. He’d told us that he had a new clerical job at the local newspaper office. It had a small parking lot. I scanned the place and didn’t spot his car. Then, I left my car, went inside, and asked about him.
No one had ever heard of Tyson.
Lying, piece of shit.
I drove over to his grandmother’s place next, searching for his car. Again, it wasn’t there. I loved his grandmother like my own, so I didn’t go in there and tell her about her grandson. She was a traditional Christian woman. His exploits would have broken her heart.
Disappointment hit me. Mia didn’t want me to deal with him, but my fists desperately wanted a conversation.
Giving up, I headed off and promised the universe that I would catch the piece of shit later.
The journey to my just-sex appointment incited a lot of questions. Vicky was my usual Friday night, but things would be changing, and I didn’t feel right telling her over the phone.
Any woman that isn’t Mia won’t have my time anymore.
Finally, I can have Mia to myself.
You stupid, stupid fool, Tyson.
He fucked up.
Thank God, I’d stayed clear of Ashley. That first night at the club, she’d never caught my eye. Next to Mia, she was nothing. She had no conversation, no ambition beyond being famous which it didn’t seem she had much of a plan for. She took tons of selfies every day.
Additionally, she always told me she was low on money as if urging me to offer. One time I did because I felt bad. She’d called me late at night and asked me to come over. I told her that I couldn’t but wanted to know if she needed help. She said she was depressed over money troubles.
I offered to help, and she’d offered her body. I’d declined, and she’d hung up, probably from embarrassment. Every time I saw her afterwards, it was awkward.
And the whole time she was messing with Tyson. What a sticky situation this would’ve been, if I’d fucked Ashley too. Thank God, I’d stayed away.
There was one thing Tyson didn’t get. Pussy was just pussy, but a woman—the one to love and cherish—that meant a different game altogether. One buried in love and faith.