Private Confessions

Logan stared at the screen as he neared the edge of climax, slowing his stroke to prolong the sensation. Never before had Scorpio turned him this hard, this fast, and he wondered what had happened to release this sexy siren.

“I buckle against you. I want you to pull your fingers from between my folds. The sensation is too severe. But with each brush of your finger, I clamp you, massaging your cock, sucking it in to the point where you’re about to explode.

“You cup your hand over me and squeeze until I cry out again, and with one more thrust, you burst, filling me, relieving us both.”

Logan closed his eyes as a heavy grunt escaped his chest with the orgasm ripping through him, curving his back, sucking the wind from his lungs. Through the rushing release, he could barely read the words on the screen.

“You’re bucking against me. You’ve lost control and now my knees are scraping against the hard wood of the railing. You pull your fingers from between my legs and clamp your hands to my hips, pulling me farther from the ground, pushing my body against the rail as you let go inside me.”

His heart beating wildly, he quickened his stroke and pumped the last of his climax—a climax that seemed to never end—until finally, his arms fell limp at his sides.

“My chin falls to my chest and my hair splays over the railing. You press your lips to my back and slip from my core, pull me into your arms and carry me to the bed. My sex still throbs. You stretch your body out next to mine and we rest on the bed as the warm ocean breeze flutters against the sheer curtains and dances across the room.”

Logan had no reply. He didn’t know what to do. This was the most intense session he’d ever had with Scorpio. He’d never seen her so filled with fire and his heart ached more than ever to know who she really was.

Oh, if only Scorpio was a woman who he could touch and explore in the flesh instead of through the cold keys of his computer. But a side of him didn’t want to lose the fantasy woman. For the last few months, Scorpio63 had been the one woman he could truly count on, truly trust, and despite his desire to taste her for real, he didn’t want to ruin what they’d created.

He raised a limp hand to the keyboard.

“Scorpio,” he typed.

“Yes, Pisces?”

“You’re amazing.”

There was a short pause before the words appeared on the screen. “Tonight is for you, Pisces. It’s our special tropical retreat. A secret place where just the two of us can go.”

“I like that, Scorpio.”

“Good night, Pisces.”

He raised his fingers to the keyboard, wanting to type the words that would keep her with him for a while longer. Often, they’d shared their thoughts and feelings before or after sex, and tonight, he wanted more. But Scorpio was cutting out, possibly because she had to, so he reluctantly let her go.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he typed. “And remember, whenever you need me, I’m just a click away.”

He pushed back from his desk and stepped through his flat on the waters of San Francisco’s marina to soak in the early evening scenery. The late January skies were unusually clear tonight, giving him a spectacular view of the bay that stretched past Alcatraz to the shores of Marin beyond. A lone jogger huffed along the Marina Green, his breath coming out as fog in the chilly night air. Beyond him, a vast cargo ship inched along the water on its way to the Oakland Harbor.

This was the view he paid handsomely for and he wished he were enjoying it with Scorpio in his arms instead of standing here alone.

He’d almost asked her for her name tonight, and if she’d given him time, he might have. But his better judgment had kept him silent. LoveSigns.com wasn’t a matchmaking site. The advertising was fully directed at anonymity, knowing the less couples knew about each other, the more freedom they’d have to express their sexual fantasies. And that’s what LoveSigns. com was all about. Fantasy. There were plenty of dating services for people looking for a mate. This site was marketed as purely entertainment, a place for people to go when they wanted to escape reality and relish in a thrill.

Though Logan hadn’t been looking for fantasies, he knew other subscribers were and given that Scorpio had never suggested sharing information, he was almost certain she wasn’t looking for anything more.

Moving from the large bay window, he grabbed his cell phone and turned it on to check messages, finding only one. His brother, Dane, had called twenty minutes earlier, and Logan dialed the code to hear the message.

“Hey, where are you? I’m dying here! Sonja’s been gone three days and I’m crawling out of my skin. You said you’d be home tonight. Call me. I’m bored. I need to get out of this house and I can’t find a solitary soul to hang out with. You’re my last resort.”

His last resort?

Logan dialed the number and waited for Dane to answer.

“Hello?”

“Nice to know I’m so high on your list of priorities,” he said flatly.

“Huh?”

Logan grinned. “Never mind. What do you want to do?”

“There’s open gym at the club tonight. Shoot some hoops? Loser buys beers.”

He looked at his watch. It was still early, and sitting here thinking about his love life didn’t sound like a plan. Between Scorpio and Trisha, he’d managed to work himself into a mood and beating his brother on the basketball court usually did wonders to lift his spirits.

“You’re on. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes?”

“Make it ten.”

“YOUR GAME WAS OFF tonight,” Dane said, sipping a beer at O’Malley’s, an Irish pub on Geary that was close to the gym Logan and Dane belonged to. “I actually won.”

“I’m feeling generous, figured I’d buy the beer this evening. Besides, you sounded pretty pathetic on the phone. I decided you didn’t need any more humiliation.” He slugged back a gulp of his pale ale and asked, “So what’s up? You said Sonja’s out of town?”

“She’s in Italy doing a shoot. And before that, she’d just spent a week down south.” Dane shook his head. “This schedule of hers is killing me. I may need to call in reinforcements or find someone who doesn’t travel so damn much.” He looked at his brother with all seriousness. “Don’t ever date a fashion model.”

Logan didn’t intend to, discovering after his divorce that the women in Dane’s address book definitely weren’t his type.

He glanced at his brother and asked, “Have you ever thought about finding a nice local girl and settling down?”

“No.”

Dane made the comment without the slightest flinch or hesitation, and Logan knew he’d asked a stupid question. His little brother was a consummate playboy with a black book full of beautiful women who preferred their men fast and noncommittal. Logan couldn’t understand the lifestyle. When it came to Dane’s type, the sex might be fun for a minute, but the moment you wanted to talk about something deeper than the weather, you got nothing but air.

To Logan, women were a package that included a body and a brain, and he’d never been able to appreciate the former if it wasn’t accompanied by the latter.

The thought brought him back to Trisha. Why the hell couldn’t she have been his real estate agent or dry cleaner instead of his employee? The hassle—he didn’t need, he’d just gotten past his divorce, restored his business and his personal life from the shambles they had become. He’d lived a life of celibacy for some time and that was quickly running cold. He was ready to seek out someone who might be able to offer a second chance.

And the first woman to tempt him had to be the ultimate in forbidden fruit.

How was that for fate?

“I’m fine,” Dane insisted. “You’re the one who needs help with the opposite sex.” He leaned back and propped his feet on an empty chair, giving him a better view of the bar and the dozen or so men and women sharing drinks over darts and pool. Dane was perpetually on the prowl.

“So have you still opted out of the dating game, or are you finally coming to your senses?” he added.

“There’s a couple women who’ve interested me.”

Unfortunately, one was off limits and the other was a fantasy, probably living in a trailer in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

“Yeah? Tell me about them.”