I grin at him, never tiring of the knowledge that Logan loved me and longed for me for years, respectfully waiting for Jerry and I to break up before he made his move. “An itch that only I could scratch?”

“And, baby, you scratch it so well,” he compliments me.

“Worth the wait?” I ask.

“Undoubtedly,” he laughs. “Gemima, I would wait forever to feel the way you make me feel. The satisfaction I get from being with you,” he says, his hand unconsciously moving to his crotch, “is unparalleled.” He strokes himself under the water and I’m instantly mesmerised.

The words escape my lips before I can hold them back. “Will you let me watch you touch yourself?”

His eyes widen. “You want to see that?” he says, skeptically.

“Oh, yeah,” I smile again.

“Oh?”

“You want to watch me, right?” I check; he’s said as much before.

“Definitely.” His answer is quick and eager.

“It’s the same for me,” I tell him. There would be something so incredibly intimate about pleasuring ourselves in front of one another. It seems fitting for this particular day when things between us have been deepening.

“I sort of watched you last night,” Logan confesses with a smile.

“Yes,” I giggle, “but you were very much there too.” I think about our encounter last night. “You get the best view,” I think.

“I could tape it, if you like?” he offers.

“Oh, no,” I laugh again. “I’ve already had an embarrassing video go viral, thank you very much.”

Logan goes uncomfortably still at the other end of the tub. “You made a sex tape with Jerry?” he asks in shock.

“God, no! I shot something with Amber,” I explain.

“With Amber?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Amber?” he checks again and I nod. “You…you made a sex tape with Amber?”

I burst out laughing. “It wasn’t a sex tape, Logan. We recorded ourselves dancing to our jam.”

“Oh,” he breathes in understanding. “What’s your jam?”

“The Best by Tina Turner,” I tell him. “We got really drunk many years ago and choreographed an entire routine. We figured it was the best thing ever, and you know, maybe Britney Spears or your friends N*Sync would want to use it.”

“Naturally,” he teases.

“So we filmed it and then accidentally emailed it to about two hundred friends, family and work associates.”

“Do you, uh, still have the video?”

I shake my head, smiling at him.

“Too bad,” he sighs, taking my foot off of his chest and massaging it. “I suppose I’ll just have to watch you touch yourself instead.”

* * *

We soak in the hot water for a long, luxurious time, and all of that time is a slow, sensual windup to what we want to do afterwards.

Once we’ve dried off, I linger next to the bed, and when Logan joins me he has a coin in his hand.

“Is it competition worthy?” I ask.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he confirms. “Pick a side.”

“Heads,” I grin cheekily.

He throws the coin up in the air, catches it easily, and slaps it onto the back of his hand. It’s heads, meaning that he has to go first.

“Dammit,” he says. He doesn’t miss a beat before asking, “Best of three?”

“Sure.”

Logan repeats his process and the result is the same.

“Best of five?” I offer with a laugh. Or seven?

“No,” he says in mock dramatics. He then smiles wryly at me, “I know when I’m beat.”

My heart is pounding as I sit on the bed next to where Logan lies down, his erection protruding, waiting to be taken. He closes his eyes and furrows his brow, concentrating hard as he takes his penis in his hand and pistons himself once.

“Which of our sexploits has been your favourite?” he asks me, seeking an image of inspiration.

“Impossible to choose,” I tell him, gazing down at him.

His eyes dart open. “I need something to think about, baby. My mind is blank. I’ve never done this with another person before,” he admits.

I lean down and kiss his lips. “Neither have I,” I breathe. Then I take his free hand and use it to touch my sex. “Think about this,” I smile, wholly aroused.

He groans, his other hand moving already. He starts to pump himself furiously, coaxing him to his release. His guttural moans make me even damper, and I have to force myself to hold back. I’ll have plenty of opportunities to touch him like this, I tell myself, but this moment is supposed to be different. This is supposed to be a personal, private, individual experience that we’re sharing with each other for the first time. This is another boundary that we’re letting one another cross, and watching him not only turns me on to the max, but it also makes me feel closer to him than ever before.

He keeps stroking himself forcefully. Several heightened minutes later, his wandering hand searches for me and when it glides over my sex again, I whimper sensitively, the sound of which pushes Logan to the edge. He works himself for a few moments more and then groans loudly as he comes. He shakes it out, his sounds of pleasure penetrating every part of my psyche. Holy shit, this is hot!

Breathing rapidly, Logan’s eyes open once more and he smiles as he sees me biting my lip, my eyes wide with arousal.

“Your turn, baby,” he pants eagerly.

My nerves are nonexistent as Logan and I swap position. I lie back and he sits up, a look of intense enthusiasm on his face.

“You look like it’s Christmas morning,” I laugh, stroking his face with my hand.

“I feel like it too,” he grins back at me.

Taking his lead, I close my eyes to begin with, moving my hands steadily south. I touch myself and writhe immediately, already so wet and so sensitive. I set my keen pace, moaning airily. The images I see in my mind’s eye are certainly gratifying, but Logan in my imagination is no match for Logan in real life. I’m halfway to heaven when I open my eyes and gaze at him instead. The look on his face tells me how impressed and satisfied he is that I can do this with my eyes open. He looks as captivated by the sight of me as I am by him. He is so enchanting beautiful. Sexy, handsome, manly, and the unequivocal love of my life.

“Logan,” I moan quietly.

My whole body changes as I look at him. Somehow I relax even more and my pleasure increases in droves. My moans and motions become heavier as I spur myself onwards. Down below, one hand works over my clitoris, faster and harder, while I slip a finger on my other hand inside of myself. I open my legs wider and arch my back against the bed, reveling in the incredible sensation. Oh, yes! Yes! I’m so delectably close now. I scrunch my eyes shut, powering on to my climax.

“Ah!” I call effusively, as my orgasm ricochets through my body, causing it to tremble violently.

“Oh my god,” Logan breathes, sounding more stimulated that I’ve ever heard him before.

When I’ve ridden my orgasm to the last delicious quiver, I retreat my hands, unable to keep myself from giggling. We should do that on a regular basis, I think, out of my mind with pleasure. I open my eyes and smile at Logan. He looks at me like I’m the goddess on his shrine.

“Gemima…” words fail him.

I put my hand over his mouth, my smile even broader. “You don’t have to say anything,” I tell him. I know exactly what he’s feeling, I felt the same way watching him. “Just come here, Logan,” I ask him, wanting more. Always wanting more.

* * *

On Sunday morning I’m awoken by the sound of howling winds and heavy rain. Logan is snuggled behind me, and I roll over, facing him, and turning my back to the window. His arm naturally encases me, and I tuck my face between his stubbly chin and chest, snuggling as close as I possibly can, relishing the memory of last night. Logan took me deeply and rapidly, bringing me to my second release of the evening with his trademark attention to detail. The result being that this morning every cell in my body feels good.