He shifts over me, his erection now digging into my leg, clearly ready for round two. I reach down between us and gently take ahold of his penis, stroking him.

“That’s an impressive candy cane you’ve got there,” I smile into his mouth, playing on his love of candy.

He laughs at my innuendo and sits up, tucking his legs underneath himself and sitting back on his heels. Peering down at me, he take his penis in his hand and pistons it once. “This?” he asks.

I nod, smiling. He starts stroking himself, slowly, sensually, and my eyes are glued to the sight. Noticing the infinitesimal twitches of his body as he winds himself up, mesmerises me. I love watching, I love noticing, but more so I love being the one delivering his pleasure. Sitting up as well, I place my hand over Logan’s, joining in on the fun.

It’s a sensual scene; the lights are off and the room is dark but for the fire flickering on the other side of the sofa.

“Gemima,” Logan groans softly, letting his own hand fall away as I continue to pleasure him. A few arousing moments later he scoops his hands under my backside and lifts me onto his lap. I wrap my arms around his back to stabilise myself, and making the most of being close to his lips once more, I press mine against his for a long, sweet moment. He then kisses his way down my neck and my collarbone, to one of my breasts, before returning up the other side.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be my wife,” he smiles against my skin, and somehow those words turn me on more than anything else that he’s ever said to me.

“We’ve been engaged for twenty-four hours, or thereabouts,” I say airily, enjoying the sweet sensation of his lips on me.

He kisses my neck more forcefully, tightening his arms around me, making it impossible for us to be any closer to one another. Well, almost. Reaching down between us, I position Logan’s erection and then I slide onto him, taking him all the way into me as we both groan into each other’s mouths. Now we’re as close as we can possibly be.

I tangle my hands in his hair and kiss him hard as I begin rocking my hips against his. I ease off of him slowly, savouring the sensations we evoke in one another, and feeling wholly gratified when Logan trembles under me.

A moment later, I’m flat on my back once more, and his hips set an unhurried rhythm against mine. Unlike our first encounter tonight, we take our time, lingering together in an euphoric state of sexual bliss. Good feelings circulate my entire body and infiltrate even the furthest corners of my mind. I feel close to coming the entire time, and yet I don’t. I hover in this exquisite feeling for longer than I thought possible, while the slow moving whirlwind inside of me turns into a powerful, unstoppable hurricane.

By the time we do come as one, we’ve changed positions again. I’m kneeling on the sofa, leaning against the back of it, while Logan kneels behind me, delivering the divine penetration that has me calling out effusively. Fuck! The hurricane has struck. Hard. Its power causes a scream to escape me as I’m devoured by pleasure.

Ah!

We shake it out together, my scream drowning out the sound of Logan’s loud growl, before our voices go quiet and the only sound is our heavy panting. I reach my arms behind me, cradling Logan’s head.

“That’s was amazing,” I breathe into his mouth.

“Agreed,” he says, kissing my lips, his hands caressing my tummy. He pulls out of me and we both lie on the sofa once more, feeling spent. “This can be our sex sofa,” Logan tells me. “We’ll keep the other one clean for guests,” he adds with a grin.

“What guests?” I ask him. “I’m starting to think that you had the right idea about being finicky about having people in your home. If it’s just you and I, we’ll be all naked, all the time,” I point out.

“You sure know how to paint a nice picture, Samuels,” Logan chuckles.

I grin at what he calls me, a sudden notion coming to me. “I know what we can call our puppy,” I tell him.

“What?”

“Samuels,” I laugh. “Or maybe just Samuel would sound better?”

“After your surname?” he makes sure.

I nod. “Somehow I suspect that I won’t be needing it anymore,” I tell him with immense satisfaction.

Logan’s eyes widen happily. “You’re going to change your name to mine?”

We haven’t discussed me changing my name, and now we don’t have to.

I nod again, surely. “I want to,” I tell him honestly. “And every second that ticks by brings us closer to that moment.”

Logan looks impassive for a moment before abruptly getting to his feet and pulling me onto mine as well.

“We’re going to bed,” he says, taking my hand and heading towards the bedroom.

“We’ve already christened the sofa, why not stay there?” I giggle, my body feeling loose and limber.

“We’re going to sleep,” Logan clarifies. “Time passes quicker that way, and the sooner it passes, the sooner you’ll be my wife.”

I smile at the back of his head. Oh, Logan, I like the way you think.

10. Sex On Fire

Saturday morning at last brings a reprieve from our recent sleeplessness, and we stay in bed until well past eleven. Logan seems oddly resistant to leave our warm cocoon, and I’m quick to realise that he wants to stay put in way of denying what’s coming tonight. His dreaded, very formal and very public night of appreciation.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” I ask him, full of humour as he lies on top of me to prevent me from leaving the bed.

“The unknown, mostly.”

“A wise answer, and yet, also very dumb,” I giggle.

“Dumb?” he asks, the shocked look on his face making me giggle even more.

I nod. “You don’t know what you don’t know, right? So why be afraid of it?”

Logan considers my words for a moment. “A wise response, and yet, also very annoying,” he says, grinning.

“Everyone telling you how great you are, what’s so bad about that?” I tease.

He groans predictably. “Can’t I just stay in denial and keep you in bed until it’s Segwaying time?”

“You can show me how to use your washing machine and then bring me back to bed?” I offer. My lack of clean clothes is a situation about to turn dire.

Logan’s expression is totally blank.

I crack up again as I realise, “You don’t know how to use it, do you?”

He smirks, looking completely gorgeous. “It can’t be that hard,” he says, rising off of me, suddenly determined to figure it out.

A few minutes later we stand huddled, naked and freezing, in front of the machine.

“I have no idea,” Logan says quietly, giving up at the mere sight of all of the various knobs and buttons.

Looking up at him, I jest, “It’s happened at last — I’ve found your one flaw. My mother will be pleased to know.” Logan laughs out loud, and I continue, “She’s suspicious of anyone who is too perfect.”

“Is that what you told her I am?” he beams at me.

“In a fashion,” I nod. “But, alas, I stand corrected. Logan Leary can’t operate his own washing machine,” I sigh, in faux disappointment.

After one look at it, I can already see how it works. It’s really very simple, but maybe that’s the issue? Maybe Logan thinks it’s a lot more insurmountable than it actually is, and I immediately suspect that his concerns about tonight are exactly the same.

The next few hours pass in a flurry of laundry, eating a leisurely breakfast outside on the sunlit terrace (not a cloud in sight, I note happily), selecting several dress choices for tonight, and then choosing an outfit that I deem appropriate for our Segway experience. Once I’m dressed I then join Logan at the dining table, where he is once again looking through his speech notes. Leaving him to it, I remain quiet as I fold my laundered clothes, until I have the distinct feeling of being watched.

Sure enough when I lift my head, I see him surveying me.