She: Part 2 (18 page)

“Did you pee off the side of a building, Logan?” I guess.

Reluctantly he nods, and I laugh again.

“That is gross,” I agree with him. “And yet oddly fascinating,” I muse. “If you peed off the edge at this height, the wind could carry it for miles before it touched the ground. Your piss could cover all of Paris.” Immediately I pull a face at the thought, making Logan chuckle.

“Here you go, baby,” he says, bending over and holding out the newly adjusted harness for me to step into. It’s just one large circle and when I’m in the centre of it, Logan pulls it up to my waist before tightening it securely. Then my safety rope is attached and at last I’m free to begin exploring.

Jeez
, Paris is so incredibly beautiful! The view renders me speechless. The whole of the city is visible, in a stunning three hundred and sixty degree vista, the likes of which I’ve never seen. We walk around the edge of the building, a metre in from the safety railings, taking in everything. The on-coming sunset colours the huge sky, making the marriage of both city and sky the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Except maybe the man who brought me here.

Logan has already been up here once this afternoon as is evident by the picnic that he’s laid out on the west side of the building so that we can watch the setting sun. Atop the checkered blanket, which on closer inspection is being held down by several small concrete blocks, is a cheese platter, two baguettes, a smorgasbord of dips and relishes, and one of Paris’s finest wines.

“This looks delicious,” I say, sinking down onto the blanket, eager to tuck in.

“I thought you might enjoy a good spread,” he says, and he’s referring to the food, I know he is, and yet my mind wants so badly to reply,
You know I do
, but I clamp my mouth shut. Don’t ruin this romantic gesture with your x-rated thoughts, Gem, I tell myself.

Logan watches my entire internal debate, his amusement evident. I sigh theatrically, knowing that I’m as good as caught, and Logan bursts into laughter. I realise quite suddenly that it’s rather exhausting keeping my American Mouth at bay.

Finally, I blurt out, “I’m trying to give up making sexual innuendoes, Logan.” And then, because I just can’t help myself, I add with a cheeky grin, “But it’s
so
hard…”

* * *

All of my senses are indulged over the hour that we spend on the twenty-ninth floor. My tastebuds are treated, and after dinner, my body is worshipped as Logan makes love to me while we watch the sun go down.

“Where I’m taking you now
pales
in comparison to that,” I warn Logan once we’re back on terra firma and he’s locking the gates to the construction site. I’m certain that his surprise this afternoon is miles better than my surprise this evening, however half an hour later, once we’ve both driven to mine, parked, and walked the short way to the large candy store, Logan looks into its depths with wide, bright eyes, as if he’s a child who’s been taken to Disneyland.

“Happy boy?” I grin at his enthusiastic stupor.

He nods and pulls me inside.

Logan is in his element. When he told me that a candy store was his one weakness, he wasn’t downplaying his obsession with sweets. As I follow him around the heavenly-smelling shop, he loads his arms with more goodies than every five-year-old we pass put together, and I begin to seriously envy his peak physical shape. If this is how much candy he’s used to consuming, then that body is simply not fair. If
I
ate all of his selections my wobbly bits would quickly get a
lot
wobblier.

He leads the way through the store, leaving no shelf unchecked, making fast, decisive, and incredibly bright-coloured choices. He doesn’t actually speak to me for a solid five minutes, much to my amusement, but rather mutters to himself things like,
this place is fucking fantastic
… or,
yes
,
sherbet
!… or,
tonight
,
tonight
,
tonight
.

Once Logan has thoroughly surveyed the entire store, he stops and finally looks at me. My lack of inventory shocks him. “Where’s your candy?” he asks.

I laugh happily at how giddy this place is making him. “I’m looking at him,” I quip. I haven’t selected anything, but I spy in Logan’s candy stack several items that I know I’ll enjoy. “Will you share with me?” I ask, almost doubtfully.

It’s the first time he’s ever hesitated when I’ve asked him for something, and he’s hesitating over candy! Fucking candy! I laugh again.

“I wouldn’t normally share,” he says slowly, “but as it’s you,” he nods. “Besides, I plan on covering you in most of this as soon as we get back to yours.”

“Come again?” I ask, perplexed.

“Yes, I believe I will,” he grins, purposefully misinterpreting my words. He takes a step closer to me and in a matter of seconds he’s gone from candy-stupor-Logan to eyes-on-fire-Logan. His child-like giddiness is gone and suddenly he looks like he’s desperate to get me home. “Do you remember that morning with the syrup?” he enquires.

Ah
,
yes
, I smile at him. The sticky hot mess!

Taking my smile as confirmation, Logan continues, “This time I’d like to cover you in sherbet.” He looks down at the assortment of coloured sherbets that he’s selected. “Every. Single. Colour.”

“You’re going to ruin
another
one of my bed sheets?” I play with him.

He smiles and nods very deliberately, seducing me right on the spot.

That promise sends a thrill through my body. “Let’s go,” I say abruptly, turning and marching towards the register.

The woman serving us looks from Logan’s haul of sweets to both of us, and I feel myself blushing, somehow convinced that she knows exactly what our plans are this evening.
Don
’
t be ridiculous
, I tell myself. There’s no way she knows.

“Are you having a party?” she enquires in French.

Logan smiles at her words, and this time
she
blushes.

“Yes, of sorts,” he tells her. He reaches into his pocket to retrieve his wallet.

I take it out of his hands and slowly place it back into his pocket. While my hand is in there I give his thigh a squeeze, as I say, “I’m getting this. It’s all part of your birthday treat.”

“Alright, baby,” he smiles at me, “so long as I’m allowed to eat them tonight.”

I grin at him. “You may eat whatever you like.” Again I feel the colour rise in my face, but I assure myself that because we’re in a candy store the cashier won’t give my words a second thought.

“That’ll be ten euros, please,” she says in English.

I gape at her.
Ten euros
? “For
all
of these? It’s only ten euros?” I’m shocked. Candy shopping is so much cheaper than anything else I shop for.

“Oui,” she smiles, pleased by my reaction.

I hand over the money and as soon as the transaction is complete, Logan picks up the bag, takes ahold of my hand, and leads me out of the store.

“Are we power walking home?” I ask him, giggling. “Or would you like to stop somewhere for dinner before consuming your weight in sugar?”

“Certainly not,” he says, as he looks me up and down while we walk hastily back to mine.

I smile at him. I love it when he looks at my body with such passion, his eyes focussed and his mind busy calculating something delicious.

Right on cue, he tells me, “I’m just deciding where I’m going to put everything.”

I’m suddenly filled with impatience. I want him naked and draped across my bed immediately. When his eyes finish their surveying and he looks me in the eye, I know that he’s just as seduced as I am.

“I’ll race you home,” he whispers.

I know I’ll lose that race. “You’ve got longer legs than me, and less bits that wobble,” I point out.

Logan bursts into laughter and I take my one opportunity at a head start. Clapping my hands to my breasts to hold them in place as I move, I start sprinting along the pavement. Behind me Logan laughs even louder, and then I hear him break into a run. I squeal, willing my legs to move faster. I can feel him catching up to me, but he doesn’t overtake me, and when we’re ten metres from the entrance of my complex, I slow to a stop.

“Are you letting me win?” I puff, totally out of breath.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he begins, “but I really enjoy watching you run.”

I snort in disbelief.

“Really,” he insists, taking ahold of my hand once more. “You’re all grace and elegance…except maybe for the hands-on-boobs look,” he adds, looking amused.

“But it’s extremely necessary,” I tell him.

He considers for a moment. “I like seeing them bounce.”

I grin at him, stepping closer and reaching up to brush my lips against his. “Is that in combination with me on your lap, panting your name, out of my mind in ecstasy?” I ask, our lips almost touching.

“
Oh
,
baby
,” Logan groans, backing me against the outer wall of the complex and taking my face in his hands while he kisses me deeply, headily.

I grip the front of his shirt and begin pulling him towards the entrance, desperate to get to the privacy of my house. We move awkwardly, joined at the mouth, neither one of us wanting to separate our union. After several fumbling minutes we reach my front porch. I pull out of our rousing kiss, and dive my hand into my handbag to find my keys. Hurriedly, I go to open the door, but the key won’t fit into the lock.

My mind falters for a moment.
Why is this happening
, I wonder. Then I look at the house number and start laughing.

“We’re at the wrong house,” I tell Logan, who’s too consumed with burying his face into my neck, to notice anything but me. We only missed by one house, which is not bad going considering how preoccupied we are. Leaving the porch of number seven, I pull Logan next door to number nine, where we’re admitted without hesitation.

I insist on showering before beginning our evening of candy-sex-fun. If Logan’s going to cover me in various forms of sugar-work and lick everything off, then I want to be clean for him, and cleanse away the memories of my bad workday.

He follows me into the shower which, naturally, means that something that should take a few minutes takes a
lot
longer. I’m not complaining; I love being in here with him, watching the water cascade down his taut chest and stomach. I love feeling his hands glide all over my body, and I love the way he gazes at me through the steam, with both love and anticipation.

Afterwards he doesn’t give me the chance to properly dry off, but rather picks me up, despite my protests, and carries me the short distance to my bed.

Dropping me onto the sheets, he says, “Everything will stick better if you’re wet.”

My heart hammers in my chest, and I suspect that he has no clue just how arousing his simple words are to me. I stare up at him and feel that familiar carnal longing course through my body. Oh, I just know he’s going to tease me like he’s never teased me before. I know this evening is going be the perfect combination of torture and pleasure, and Logan wastes no time in getting started.

Within minutes, I’m covered with most of the contents of the bag. The whole bed is flooded with Logan’s favourite candy and I know already that these sheets are going to be ruined but I utterly fail to care. The sherbet, which I surmise is Logan’s favourite, sticks all over my chest, breasts, and arms, and as he straddles me, inadvertently holding me down, he begins licking and sucking it off.

I moan under his touch. It would be a sensual, slow-burning turn on if I weren’t already turned on to the max, but as I am, the sensation of his tongue on me and the gentle murmuring of his voice, drives me completely wild with need. I close my eyes and savour it, letting myself get more and more wound up with every touch, every lick, every kiss.

“I want to tell you what I saw when I watched you pleasure yourself on Saturday night,” Logan says quietly.

I moan again when he moves down my body, purposefully avoiding my sex, to kiss my inner-thighs.

“Tell me,” I urge him, thrilled by the prospect of hearing his point of view. Though I’m also wary, wary that for the first time in my life I might orgasm from anticipation alone.

“I felt like I didn’t have enough eyes,” Logan chuckles, sucking and licking his way down one of my legs.

“So…so there was more than one spot that you watched?” I pant, resting my hand on my belly button for a moment and then moving it slowly south. I thought he would’ve watched my sex, for sure.

“Yes,” he breathes, catching my hand before I am able to touch myself and relieve the ache that’s building in my groin. I know this is all part of his ploy, part of his intention to strengthen my orgasm. He puts my hand back onto the bed, and I cooperate, keeping it there.

“You’re very good at arching your back,” he then says unexpectedly. “I was mesmerised by that,” he continues. “It was arched like a rainbow, with a pot of gold at either end.”

Oh
,
Logan
! My mouth drops open, another moan escaping me. I’ve never been described so poetically or erotically before. My heart rate spikes. My body groans. This windup is
too
good,
too
pleasurable,
too
intense.

“I watched the top of the rainbow,” he murmurs, his hands running from my belly button up my torso to my breasts which he cups and squeezes gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.”

“
Logan
,” I whimper. I can’t remember ever feeling so turned on without his hands or lips being on my sex. “I want you
so
badly,” I mewl.

He smiles and I know immediately that the tease is not over yet. “Baby,” he coos, “I promise you, it’ll be worth the wait.”

If I weren’t in such a heightened erotic state, I would roll my eyes at him.
Fuck
! I know it will be worth it.

He then brings his lips to mine, a sweet between his teeth. Opening up I accept it from him. It’s overly chewy in an artificial kind of way.

“Yum,” I whisper against his lips. “And I don’t mean the candy.”

He smiles against my mouth, “
Yum
is my thought exactly, Gemima.” He thrusts his tongue against mine, kissing me fiercely, passionately. All too soon he’s gone again, back down south, kissing and sucking his way down my other leg.