Page 31 of Logan
My amusement probably isn’t appropriate, but the scenario unfolds too comically. The woman was holding my cock, and instead of being mad at her, I have the urge to wrapher dark hair around my fist and pull, tilting her head so that I can conquer that sweet mouth.
“God no! I wouldn’t— I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with your cock... I’m sure it’s fine—more than fine. I’m sure it’s huge, actually, and I’m sure many women would want to give you a handjob— I mean, you’re you, and—” Her words tumble out in a flustered halt, her blush deepening to new depths.
This is turning into quite the spectacle.
“So, you think I’m huge?” I tilt my head.
Chapter Ten
SLOANE
“No. Yes. I mean, I don’t know. I didn’t notice if it was…big,” I try to explain, my words tumbling out in a clumsy rush.
I’d give anything for a colossal, purple monster to appear and devour me whole. Or for the ground beneath my feet to crack open and swallow me.
Anything has to be less agonizing than standing here, in front of my boss, trying to articulate why I was holding his cock and why I blurted out anything about its size.
And what’s the lesser of two evils? Admitting I felt enough to judge, or denying it? But the truth, as mortifying as it is to acknowledge, is undeniable.
Yes, he was big.
And I know, because,holy hell, I was actually holding Logan Valeur’s cock.
And he wasn’t exactly in a relaxed state, either. Not thathe was fully erect, but there was a definite firmness, a subtle hint of hardness that seemed to grow under my unintentional touch. Or perhaps that’s just my mind spinning out of control with anxiety and conjuring sensations that weren’t there.
Honestly, with the way my thoughts are somersaulting through sheer panic, I wouldn’t trust my judgment right now.
Seriously, where is that purple monster when you need it?
“Not sure it’s that big. Maybe you just stuff socks in there or something,” I blurt out in a pitiful attempt at humor. The words tumble out before I can reel them back in, and I’m immediately mortified. Why did I say that?
Shut up, Sloane.
My teeth find my lip, biting down as I dare to lift my gaze to his. The joke, meant to diffuse the tension, hangs between us. My heart races, and I brace myself for his reaction, unsure whether to expect laughter, annoyance, or something entirely unpredictable.
Logan smiles.
In that instant, my heart stalls—then stumbles over itself in a frantic rhythm. Witnessing Logan's smile is akin to spotting a unicorn in the wild. From everything I’ve heard, smiles from him are as rare as a hen’s teeth.
I imagine the last person to see such a phenomenon might have been his mother, when he was a baby, just learning to smile. And even then, I’m not entirely convinced. He strikes me as the type who might have skipped the smiling milestone, born with a solemnity far beyond his years.
This smile transforms him, lighting up his features and softening the usual hard lines of his face. For a fleeting moment, he appears wholly human and startlingly accessible.
In the depths of his blue eyes, I catch a spark of something warm, a hint of passion that melts the habitual ice.
His lips, full and usually set in a straight line, curve into an expression of genuine amusement. It’s a glimpse into a side of him I suspect few have seen, a brief unveiling before the familiar mask resettles over his features.
Too late, Dark Lord. Now I know. You have a human side.
“So you need another feel to decide?”
His words hang in the air, a challenge or a tease—I can’t tell which. Logan’s face gives nothing away, his expression as unreadable as stone.
Could it be humor twinkling in his eyes, or is it just my hopeful imagination?
The notion that Logan Valeur, a man whose reputation for seriousness precedes him, might be teasing is almost too ridiculous to believe.
Panic flutters in my chest. Is this how it all ends? Have I finally pushed too far, my incessant rambling leading me straight to disaster? It seems my notorious lack of a filter has caught up with me at last.
