“How do you want me?” he asks cheekily.

I roll my eyes at him. He so knows the answer to that.

Logan laughs at my reaction, and in the dim light I catch something glistening on his lips — it’s me, my arousal. Fuck, that’s hot! We gaze at each other for a few torturous seconds and the sexual tension between us reaches breaking point. I have to have him. Now!

Both of us jump to life at the same time. My hands fumble madly to pull up my dress, while Logan’s work double time to unzip and open his tuxedo pants. Our movements are urgent. Desperate. Frenzied. By the time that my dress has risen enough, his erection is freed, its throbbing length making me moan at the mere sight of it. It’s straining to be buried deep inside of me, and I’m so willing to be filled.

In one fluid movement, Logan lifts me and pins me against the wall; my legs are around his waist, my hands tightly gripping his biceps, and a glorious moment later he tilts his hips forward, filling me with haste. We groan into each other’s mouths.

Ah, yes!

He feels so good, so stimulating, so deliciously hard. He pauses for a moment, allowing both of us to revel in the feeling of our union, as our eyes pour into one another’s.

“This is exactly where I want you, Logan,” I breathe into his mouth.

“Remind me never to refuse you again,” he smiles and one second later he slides out of me and thrusts himself back in. We moan and groan and grind against each other, both so turned on that three gratifying minutes later we’re on the brink of orgasm.

I clutch him to me forcefully as I feel myself careening towards my release. I try to keep my voice down, but I can’t help the high pitched cries that escape my lips. “Ah! AH, Logan!”

Logan buries his face into my neck, his lips and tongue on my hot, flushed skin. His hips move with more speed and force. “Holy shit, Gemima!” he calls out, his voice muffled, his body tense.

Oh, yes. Yes!

A few, provoking strokes later, we come as one, my orgasm strengthening his, and his strengthening mine. Euphoria floods my body as we tremble against each other, riding every last, incredible moment of release.

“Oh my god,” I moan, slumping back against the wall.

Logan’s chest rises and falls rapidly. “Baby, that was incredible,” he says breathlessly.

“Agreed,” I sigh. I have to go back to the ballroom, I have to storm the stage, find a microphone, and deluge everyone in sight with details of just how phenomenal Logan really is, I think dramatically. It is an Appreciation Night, after all.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later we walk hand in hand back into the room. It’s louder and rowdier than before, a stark contrast to our quiet rendezvous on the roof. The stage catches my eye but in the time that’s lapsed between my orgasm and now, my desire to publicly congratulate Logan on his sexual prowess has diminished. It would draw attention to our absence…not that we were doing anything we shouldn’t have been doing. We were just getting some fresh air, I repeat my alibi in my mind. That story’s going to fly, right?

I get a chance to test it out much sooner than I anticipated I would when Buddy joins us just inside of the doorway.

“We were getting fresh air,” I blurt out hurriedly, pronouncing it all as one long word.

His mouth is open, about to say something, but after I speak, he closes it and looks at both of us suspiciously.

“Baby, I love you,” Logan laughs, looking at me, “but your poker face is terrible.”

Dammit! “I’ll, uh, get us some drinks,” I say to him, leaving the situation before Buddy can press for details.

As I drop Logan’s hand and walk towards the bar, I hear Buddy telling him, “There’s someone here who wants to see you.”

Two minutes later, with a drink in each hand, I go in search of my delectable fiancé and stop dead in my tracks when I see the person who Buddy led Logan over to. To my complete and utter astonishment, Jerry has made an appearance! I blink several times when I spot him standing in front of Logan and Buddy. Am I seeing this right?

“What in the actual fuck is he doing here?” I say out loud to no one in particular.

“Who, dear?” Mary-Gene asks me, as she, Rupert, Taylor, Karen, and Abigail join me.

“Oh, uh… Uh…” Fuck, what do I say? I don’t want to be the one to tell Taylor what happened; he disrespects his brother enough without knowing about his dustup with Jerry. I certainly don’t want to be the one to add fuel to that fire.

“Who is that short man that Logan’s with? And why does he look like he’s apologising to Logan?” Mary-Gene asks me.

Jerry does look like he’s apologising. So he fucking should, I think for the hundredth time. I can’t believe he’s got the gall to turn up here! Maybe ambushing people is his new thing, I wonder. Surely, he can’t be under the illusion that he is welcome?

“Gemima?” Karen steals my attention away. I turn to look at her instead, purposefully avoiding Mary-Gene’s question. “Taylor and I have been brainstorming places to take Abigail tomorrow and I hoped that you might know of somewhere?” she asks.

Things to do for kids, I immediately start diverting my train of thought, before Jerry’s presence turns me bitter. While I think of ideas, I can’t help throwing Logan and company another furtive glance. Jerry has disappeared, Logan and Buddy are making their way over to us.

“The Aquarium,” I blurt out to Karen.

Abby vehemently shakes her head.

“She’s afraid of water,” Taylor says to me, as if I knew this already and only suggested it to be purposefully unhelpful.

“Uh, well, Parc Asterix is closed for the winter…but I’m sure she wouldn’t say no to another day at Disneyland,” I mutter, out of other ideas.

“You might be right about that,” Karen smiles at me. A genuine, warm smile. Jeez, she’s so different from her husband. “If we go again, will you and Logan join us?” she asks.

“Absolutely,” I say without thinking through what I’m agreeing to. Logan and theme parks don’t mix well, I remind myself. I wouldn’t mix well with them either if I’d been stranded upside down on a roller coaster for four hours.

Taylor looks wickedly gleeful about what I’ve just said, and before I can tell Karen no, Taylor says loudly to Logan, “Gemima has just arranged for us all to go to Disneyland tomorrow. Is that OK with you?” he asks his brother. Fucking prick!

Buddy ignores Taylor entirely, a skill that I should really learn, and instead crouches down and engages Abigail in a conversation about her sparkly shoes. She is entirely captivated by him.

Sorry, I mouth to Logan.

Logan looks confused. “Why are you sorry?” he says to me. “I don’t mind taking Abby there,” he responds to his brother, and there is such coldness in his voice that I immediately note that I never want to hear him speak to me like that. The brothers glare at one another. Damn, you could cut the tension between them with a knife. Taylor’s clearly out to irritate and Logan’s not giving him an inch. “You’re going too, right?” he asks me, his eyes becoming softer when they settle on me instead of his brother.

“Of course,” I nod.

“Will you hold my hand on the roller coaster?” he says with a hint of amusement.

“You’ll go on one?” I ask, surprised.

“Sure,” he shrugs.

I beam at him. If anything will show Taylor just how pathetic his attempt at sabotage is, that will — especially considering that it was Logan’s nightmarish experience on one that started his Wayward Years, and now here Logan is willingly accepting Taylor’s invitation-cum-challenge without breaking a sweat.

I take a few hurried steps towards Logan, giving him a quick squeeze and saying for only him to hear, “If you get on a roller coaster, I’ll hold whatever you like.”