Logan's Lady Chapter 4

I am nervous and excited. Tonight is the huge Wainwright Foundation Annual Gala. This year it will be at the New York City Centre theatre. Anticipation is running high; the Gala has been threatened by a mad man whose "manifesto" (if that's what you could call the crazed rantings of a delusional mind) warned everyone that a bomb would go off during the evening. "He" was hoping to kill Amy Wainwright and her family in an act of revenge.

I shiver at the thought as I finish getting dressed. How I wish I could be going with Mike tonight. However, Mike is Trey's protective detail and will be helping two other NYPD detectives, Robert Goren and Alex Eames, with security during the gala, as well as with trying to find the mad man threatening to blow it all up. So, instead, my escort is another of the NYPD's finest, an undercover cop who just happens to be one of my dearest friends, Andy Jacobsen. I always enjoy spending time with him and his family; tonight, we have to pretend to be a couple.

I want Mike.

We've been dating for about four months now, ever since he showed up naked in my bathroom and soaked in the tub with me. I figured that any man who would want to simply be with me was worth getting to know better. I was right. He is worth it. I've never known anyone like him; smart, funny, and incredibly good-looking. He makes me feel special. When I'm with him, it's as natural as breathing; I know it sounds cliché, but it really is true.

I've never felt the ground roll beneath my feet when a man kissed me, but the first time Mike Logan touched his lips to mine, that's exactly what happened. And the second time, and the third time. In fact, every time he kisses me, the world fades away and time stands still. It's incredible. I think I'm in love.

I stand, studying my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on my closet door. My dress is an amazing shade of emerald and wearing it makes me feel like a glamorous Hollywood starlet. I'm hoping to catch a few moments with Mike; this dress will knock his socks off.

The doorbell rings and I know that means Andy is here in the limo. Grabbing my purse and my wrap, I head out the door.

I did see Mike; my dress did knock his socks off. Then everything changed when the bomb went off.

It's now two days later, and I'm sitting in the waiting room of the ICU, talking with Mike and Trey. We're discussing the condition of Trey's father, Detective Robert Goren. Bobby, as his friends call him, was critically injured the night of the Gala. Turns out, there were TWO bombs, one was strapped to the chest of Matthew Richardsen and had been safely diffused. The other one was a complex affair, down in one of the tunnels that ran beneath the building. Bobby's nephew and Trey's cousin, Donny Carlson, had been sucked into the evil plot and had perished in the explosion. Now Bobby was lying comatose in the ICU.

"The doctor says they stopped all the bleeding and repaired the damage. It's just up to his body to heal itself," Trey was telling us.

"Do they have any idea how long he'll be unconscious," I ask. I am very concerned; I went out with Bobby a few times and I really like the man.

Trey sadly shakes his head. I reach over, take his hand and hold it. It seems like such a helpless gesture, but it's the only thing I can think of to do. Trey squeezes back and holds on tight; he welcomes any bit of comfort he can get. My heart aches for him. First Laura, now Bobby.

"Judith, are you hungry," Mike asks me a few quiet minutes later. "I haven't had lunch yet and would like to grab a bite to eat before heading back into the squad room."

"I'm not hungry, but I'll keep you company," I tell him with a smile.

We stand, and after saying good-bye to Trey, head down to the cafeteria.

"Are you really going to eat the food here," I ask. "I've never liked the food in this hospital. Come on, I'll take you to Mama's near the Plaza."

Later that night, after work and spending more time at the hospital, Mike shows up at my door.

We settle in on the couch and watch the rest of Mythbusters on television. His nearness is both comforting and unnerving. One broad, muscular thigh pressed against mine. One strong arm, carelessly thrown over the back of the couch, its hand resting on my shoulder. Impulsively, I snuggle into the warmth of his side and he wraps that arm around me, making me feel safe, secure, alive.

The show ends and another episode begins. I am even more acutely aware of his presence. Neither one of us moves. We just feel as heat and sensation and desire begin to rise inside me.

"I really like that show," I say lamely.

"I like the person I'm watching it with better."

I look up and find myself captured by the intensity of his gaze. His eyes are like brown velvet, with flecks of green and gold dancing in them.

He moves his head closer to mine and I close my eyes as our lips meet. The whole room spins and rolls as I'm swept away by the passion I suddenly feel for him. I moan and lean in closer, parting my lips, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. As he does, his hand is suddenly on the back of my head, pressing me tightly into him. My hand is on his thigh, gripping equally as tight as heat and fire continue to build up inside me; I feel like I could explode.

He shifts me so that I'm now across his lap, my chest pressed against his. My entire body begins to tingle as his tongue continues to plunder my mouth, creating sensations inside me I never knew I could feel. His hands run up and down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When his hand slips under my shirt to caress my bare skin, I'm a goner. I don't want this to stop. Ever.

My whimpers and moans are having an effect on him, too. I can feel his erection beginning to build beneath my thighs. Wanting more, needing more, I pull away, breaking the kiss just long enough to straddle his lap and resettle myself against him.

Now, it's his turn to moan. I laugh huskily and tangle my fingers in the soft hair at the back of his neck.

"Well?"

"I don't feel like going home tonight."

"Then don't," I answer boldly.

He studies me seriously, searching my face and my eyes for clues. He must have realized I meant what I was saying, because his lips are back on mine again. Hungrier, needier this time, as though he wants all of me and can't get enough of me fast enough.

I slide off his lips so I can kiss and lick and nip his jaw line, slowly making my way to his ear, taking my time, enjoying the torment I am creating. Loving the effect I am having on him. Surprised at how much my actions are arousing me.

I reach his ear and slowly suck the lobe into my mouth. I chuckle evilly when he audibly draws in his breath and his head falls back against the sofa. When I nip the tender flesh, his arms tighten around me.

"Oh, God, woman," he exclaims.

"Have your way with me, Mike," I say softly into his ear.

He stills. I can barely breathe as I wait for his response. He has been such a gentleman, backing off completely after that time in my tub. For some strange reason, I felt I really needed to go slowly with him, taking my time to get to know him before I rushed into a physical relationship. I was pleasantly surprised when he agreed. Up until now, he has only kissed me senseless; let me set the pace of our relationship. Tonight, after everything that has happened over the last four days, I need this. Need to be held, caressed, and cherished. I need him.

"Please," I beg, before nipping and sucking on his earlobe again, this time grinding my crotch against his erection for extra emphasis.

That's all it takes. Suddenly, both his hands are under my shirt, caressing my back, setting me ablaze with desire. His lips are back on mine, plundering, taking, giving; sending wave after wave of delicious pleasure through my body. My hands are on his chest, frantically trying to unbutton his shirt, wanting, no, needing to feel his bare skin beneath mine. I sigh as my hands finally feel the warmth of his body; caress his soft skin; twist and tangle the hairs on his chest, causing him to gasp in response.

He pushes up my shirt and I raise my arms over my head so he can take it off. He drinks in the sight of my ample breasts straining to escape the thin lace of my favorite dark green strapless bra. He reaches out and runs the backs of his fingers ever so slightly over my skin. Instantly, I shiver and jolt. I can feel the skin of my breasts contract and my nipples harden.

In response, I flatten my hands out over his breasts and press into him, moving my hands in circles. His nipples harden under my palms and his erection jumps under my crotch, arousing me further. He is hard as a rock, his manhood bulging and straining to get out. The realization of the power I have over him emboldens me further, and I lean forward to suckle one of his nipples.

He cries out, long and primal, so I arch my back and slide slowly up to his face, pressing my lips against his. I flatten myself against him, sighing at the deliciousness of finally having skin-to-skin contact with him. He wraps his arms around me and holds me there. Together we bask in the warmth of our closeness, steadying our breathing, calming to a mere simmer of passion.

Mike reaches out and pushes my hair back, slightly turning his face to the side. "Should we go to your bed?"

"Hmm, I don't know," I coyly respond. "Do you think you can walk with an erection like that?"

"I can do lots of things with an erection like this," he growls in mock anger.

"Why don't you show me?"

He doesn't answer, but instead slides his hands down my back to cup my bottom, deliberately pulling me even harder against him as he stands up. I yelp and wrap my arms tightly around his neck.

"Mike," I cry out. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist.

"Careful, woman, or we won't make it to your bed."

I laugh and bury my face into his neck, kissing and licking him as he makes his way to my bedroom.

He gasps at the sight of my bed. I guess he hadn't really paid much attention to it when he surprised me by coming naked into my bathroom a while back. My bed is like something out of a fairy tale. It's huge, a super king mattress requiring special-order sheets and four pillows across its width. It's super-firm, but with an extra-thick layer of pillow-y softness on top for my body to sink down into. I have my flat sheets, comforters and bedspreads made even larger than normal for this size mattress, so I can really wrap myself in luxury. The head and foot of the bed are of the most exquisite antique wrought iron, full of curls and swirls and arches. The top of the mattress is nearly at my waist and the whole thing looks like it belongs in a palace. I feel like an empress when I go to bed at night.

Very few men have ever shared this bed with me. Bringing someone into it is a huge step for me. I wonder if Mike knows that, I think, watching his face as he takes in the mammoth object in front of him.

"What do you think," I ask.

"It's magnificent. You could get lost in that thing for days," he says admiringly.

"I often do," I laugh. "I do some of my best writing propped up on it."

"I hope that's not all you do best on it," Mike says huskily, refocusing all his attention on me.

I shiver with delight at the passion I see smoldering in his eyes.

"Why don't we find out?" My voice is soft and husky.

He moves to the side of the bed and lowers me until the backs of my knees hit the side. I lay back and he follows, lowering himself until he's hovering over me, his forearms on either side of my head. He dips his head and kisses me deeply. I feel like I'm flying.

Suddenly, he stands, pulling me up with him.

"Mike," I yelp as my feet hit the floor.

He just grins, all lopsided and cute, then reaches out and yanks back the covers.

I laugh, move around to the other side of the bed, and together we fold back the bedding.

"Pillows," I ask, holding one up.

In response, he picks one up and throws it at me.

"That's it! You're gonna get it now!" I clamber up onto the bed, and before he can react, I have whacked him, hard, with the pillow.

"Hey!"

"I told you! My brother LOVED to pillow fight. Laura and I learned very quickly how to hold our own with him," I tell him, brandishing the pillow over my head.

Mike quickly grabs my hands, keeping them over my head, and places his lips on mine. I moan and slowly release the pillow. As he kisses me, he gets on the bed, on his knees, until he is pressed up against me; our arms still up in the air. He moves his mouth off my lips to my chin, then slowly slides his tongue down my neck until it is in my cleavage.

I moan loudly as his tongue licks and his lips nip and his hands slide down my arms until they are just under my armpits. He lowers us gently down onto the mattress until I am flat on my back, hands tangled in his hair, gripping him tightly as he continues to lave my chest. As my bare back hits the coolness of the silken sheets, it occurs to me that somehow, without my realizing it, he has removed my bra.

My back arches and my body jerks when his mouth comes in contact with my nipple. I moan loudly as he continues, non-stop, driving me wild with desire. Hand replaces mouth, and then his lips are on my other nipple. He nips and licks with his mouth; teases and tweaks with his fingers. I cry out even louder and my finger nails strafe his bare back.

My legs part slightly and suddenly, he is there, lying completely on top of me. His masculine form pressed against mine, bulging erection straining to escape as it nestles against my crotch. Even though I am nearly out of my mind from the attention he is giving my breasts, I am able to register that down below, I am wetter and throbbing harder than I ever have before. This man is unbelievable!

Desperate for more, I slide my hands down his back and slip my fingers under the waistband of his pants. Now it is Mike's turn to moan.

He raises his head and looks at me.

"Hey….slow down. You said I could have my way with you, remember?" He smiles and strokes my face.

"I….can't….wait."

"Well, you're going to have to, cause I fully intend to take you at your word, little lady."

I melt even further; I love the way he calls me "little lady". Like I am his and his alone. After tonight, I will be.

I pull my fingers out of his waistband, firmly grasp his rear, and pull him in even tighter as I open my legs to him further. His eyes widen, then he gets this really devilish look on his face, laughter mingling with the desire flaring in his eyes.

Suddenly, he slides down my body until his face is directly over my stomach. He lays his cheek against my skin and sighs.

"I love how soft you are," he croons gently, his breath warm against my skin, setting it on fire.

I force myself to exhale as his tongue traces slow lazy circles around my naval. I jolt and come off the bed when it dives into the depths of my abdomen. I never knew my belly button could be such an erogenous zone; Mike is showing me lots of things I don't know about my body. It's as though, in his hands, it's a finely-tuned instrument that only he can play.

Soon I am squealing and squirming underneath him. He rises slightly, splaying his large hands across my belly, wrapping his fingers around my waist. Slowly, ever so slowly, he inches his hands down towards the waistband of my pants. He slides his fingers inside the waistband and feels the cool silk of my tap pants.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "What have we here?"

"Why don't you take them off and find out?"

He does.

"Tap pants. I LOVE tap pants," he sighs appreciatively.

I reach for snap of his jeans. He starts to protest, but I silence him with a finger to his lips. He says nothing, but sucks my finger into the warm depths of his mouth and allows me to open the snap and pull down the zipper. He groans softly as my fingers brush his erection. He shifts his hips as I struggle to push his jeans down, finally kicking his legs and using his feet to remove them completely. Now we are lying together with only the thin layers of our underpants keeping us from completely touching.

I sigh deeply and wrap my arms around him. He burrows his hands under my back so that he can wrap his long, strong arms completely around me. He also sighs deeply as we hold each other tightly, feeling our hearts beat, basking in the warmth of our closeness.

I'm not sure who moved first, but our lips have met again. Slowly and deeply this time; exploring, savoring, enjoying. Drinking each other in, his kisses fill me like no one else's ever have. I feel myself growing more and more aroused, but not wanting his kisses to end.

He reaches down with one long arm and places his hand on my thigh. I moan as it begins a slow upward journey of caresses and strokes. He mouth is all over my face now; warm breath and soft lips bussing my cheeks, eyes, nose, chin; his hand continues to stroke my thigh, his fingers teasing the skin where fabric meets flesh.

I am on fire, aching, helpless to stop the rising torrents of desire, unable to move beneath his weight; unwilling to stop him.