Page 39 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)

MILLIE

I turn in Logan’s arms, barely breaking our kiss. Every limb feels like paper, and I’m still trembling from aftershocks of the most all-consuming orgasm I’ve ever experienced. But it’s as if something inside of me just broke free, and now I’m ravenous, and all I want is… more.

Straddling Logan’s thick thighs, I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening our kiss.

Logan’s hands skate down my waist, my hips, moving around me and palming my ass, and as I grind on top of him with absolutely nothing between us, feeling his rock hard cock rub up against my pussy, he groans into our kiss and I smile against his lips, reveling in the fact that it’s me doing this to him.

“Are you finally going to fuck me?” I murmur against his lips. “I’m so ready.”

“Oh, I know you’re ready, baby. The way you took my fingers,” he grits with a pained grin. “Such a good little slut for me.”

I moan, allowing my head to drop to the side, giving his lips access to the sensitive skin in the crook of my neck. He licks the spot that makes my toes curl, sucking it gently and dragging his teeth over it, and I feel it deep in my core .

“But I’m not going to fuck you tonight, Red,” he says, his words finite.

I still, snapping back and gaping at him. “Are you serious?”

He nods, dipping down and taking one of my nipples between his lips, sucking it hard and causing my back to arch in spite of the frustration coursing through me. Popping off my nipple, he looks up at me, eyes smiling as he moves to the other, swirling his tongue around it.

“We’ve both had too much to drink,” Logan whispers, laying his tongue flat and licking the pebbled bud, my eyes nearly rolling back. “And I want it to be special.”

“I don’t need special,” I whine. “This is all I want. You. Me. Your big fat dick, right here.” I look between us where his cock juts up, and with a mischievous grin, I arch a brow, meeting his eyes. “You know, all it would take is one wrong move and you’d be inside of me.”

“Don’t fuckin’ tempt me.” He throws his head back on a groan, and I lean in, dragging my tongue over the jut of his Adam’s apple.

“I want you, Logan,” I say, more serious now, his swirling eyes meeting mine and softening a touch.

Lifting his hand, he cups my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.

“And I want you, baby. I wasn’t joking before when I said I’m never letting you go.

” The look in his eyes is full of a sentiment I’ve never seen before, and I feel it straight through to my heart.

“You’re it for me, Red. There’s no one else.

This is a first for me too, and I want our first time to be something we’ll both cherish forever. ”

His words affect me. This is why he wouldn’t have sex with me the other night when I begged him. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I swallow the emotion and, instead, choose violence, grinding against him once more, my smirk menacing. “What if I beg?”

He chuckles again, his hands on my hips steadying me, stopping me.

“Oh, there will be begging—you can count on it.” He nips my bottom lip with his teeth, shifting his hips so the head of his dick grazes my clit, and I can’t contain my own whimper.

“By the time we finally fuck, you’ll be so goddamn needy, your cunt is gonna ache so fucking bad, and you’re gonna be begging me for my cock. But not now. Soon, though. I promise.”

I groan, frustrated and more turned on than I’ve ever been before. But the promise of what’s to come is enough. For now.

“Will you still eat my pussy?” I ask, hopeful.

“Morning, noon, and fuckin’ night.” Logan’s grin is wicked, and suddenly, before I even know what’s happening, he lifts me into the air like I weigh nothing and shuffles down my bed, positioning me so my knees are resting either side of his head.

His strong arms link around my thighs, pulling me so close.

“Logan, what are you—” My words are cut short, trapped in the back of my throat when I feel his tongue push through my pussy lips, and whatever it was I was about to say is lost to the sudden pleasure surging through me.

It’s gray and miserable when I finally wake up.

Every muscle in my body aches, but it’s a good ache.

I smile as memories of last night filter through my hazy mind, and my stomach flutters thinking about just how many times Logan made me come.

I was a boneless heap by the end, and he carried me through to his bathroom, to the giant soaking tub where we sat in a hot bath filled with Epsom salts, barely talking, just basking in one another’s presence.

Then he wrapped me up in one of his big hoodies, and we fell asleep in his bed until he got up early this morning for dryland and woke me just to kiss me goodbye.

Everything between us has changed, and I honestly can’t stop grinning.

My phone shudders on the nightstand, and I grab it, smiling, assuming it’s him, but when I see Fran’s name on the screen, my brows knit together. Fran has quickly become a friend, but she doesn’t really message me out of the blue.

Fran: Hey girlfriend, I’m bored. Free for brunch?

Emily has a birthday lunch for her mom at her parents’ house, so I know she won’t be at brunch. And the last time it was just Fran and me, things didn’t end so well, so I’m cautious with my response.

Me: Sure. Who all is going?

Fran: Just us. Is that okay? I promise, no alcohol.

Me: It’s a date

I meet Fran at an adorable corner café in SoHo with a forest green facade, striped awnings, and potted flowers everywhere.

We sit at a table outside, the sun doing its best to try and crack through the cloud cover, and while we wait for our food, Fran is telling me everything I missed last night after I left.

Apparently, Coach Draper had a few too many beers and stood on the bar giving a performance of “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey.

“Where did you go?” Fran asks, tipping a sachet of sweetener into her coffee.

Fuck . Logan and I didn’t talk about what we were going to tell everyone about our sudden departure from Coach Draper’s birthday. I stir my iced latte, avoiding her gaze.

“Another urgent… strategy paper?”

It’s her tone that causes me to look up, and when I do, I see it in her arched brow, in the smile that toys with her lips. She. Fucking. Knows. I swallow. Hard .

“I saw you guys, you know?” Fran says, grinning to herself as she looks down her drink, stirring slowly.

My cheeks flame and my stomach rolls. “W-what are you talking about?”

She snaps her head up, eyes bulging. “I saw you two”—she lowers her voice to a stage-whisper, leaning across the table—“when he was finger fucking you in the middle of the party!”

“Oh, my God!” I cry out, causing a few people nearby to look over. Burying my face in my hands, I groan. If Fran saw us, who the hell else saw?

“Not gonna lie,” Fran continues, and I look at her through my fingers. “That was all kinds of hot. It turned me on, that’s for damn sure. Robbie even asked why I was so wet by the time I got home.”

“For the love of all that is holy on a Sunday morning, will you please fucking stop?”

She bites down on her smile. “I knew something was up the other night at Dallas and Emily’s. I have a sixth sense for these things.” She taps her temple, waggling her eyebrows deviously.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Funny.” She sits back, folding her arms across her chest, smug smirk still lingering. “Your soon-to-be sister-in-law once said that exact same thing when I questioned her about your brother.”

I take a sip from my drink, looking out at the traffic, up to the rain-threatening clouds, to a pigeon standing on the side of a trash can in the small green space across the street, picking at a discarded Burger Shack bag, literally anywhere but at Fran.

“So, is it the whole forced proximity thing?” she asks, ignoring my silence. “I knew the second Robbie told me you were moving into Logan’s spare bedroom that something would happen. He’s hot. You’re hot. It was only a matter of time.”

“We hooked up last year,” I admit sheepishly.

Fran gasps, her mouth falling open. “What? ”

I chew on my bottom lip, nodding. “When the guys played Detroit. I met Dallas for dinner, and then afterwards, I went to a club and… I met Logan.”

“Oh, my God, tell me every last detail,” Fran squeals, leaning in and placing her chin on her hands all excited. “There’s literally no detail too filthy or depraved; I want it all .”

I can’t help but smile. And, if I’m being honest, it’s kind of nice being able to talk about it. With Fran and Hannah both knowing, it doesn’t feel so sordid or clandestine.

“Fran, Dallas can’t find out,” I say, shaking my head.

“Why?” She rolls her eyes. “Please don’t tell me he’s one of those brothers who become borderline creepy possessive about their sisters dating their friends?”

“Ew. No.” I laugh. “I mean, he’s always been protective, but that’s just because he knows how gross guys can be, because he’s gross. Or at least he was, pre-Emily.”

Fran nods in understanding. “Oh, I know. I was unfortunate enough to witness it with my own eyes.”

“Dallas made me promise that I’d never cross a line with any of his teammates because he doesn’t want things to be awkward. Hockey is his life.”

“I mean, I do get that,” Fran says, looking away in thought a moment. “But what if one of his teammates just so happened to be the one?” She arches a brow.

My shoulders sag on a heavy exhale, a smile claiming my lips as I say, “One of his teammates is the one…”

“Oh. My. God!” Frank squeals again. “Tell me everything, like, immediately.” She claps her hands together, and as the waiter returns to the table with our order, she shoves her coffee aside and grins up at the man. “We’re going to need a bottle of champagne. Stat.”

“So much for no alcohol,” I quip.

She winks at me.