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The message from Logan comes out of nowhere. Two weeks and he doesn’t talk to me after fucking me twice in the hotel room. Part of me is angry, another part forces the Zen to spread because I have no right to be angry.

We aren’t in a relationship.

I quickly respond knowing I have only minutes before we started filming again.

Me: Hello stranger.

The bubble bounces, and there’s a quick response.

Logan: That’s all I get? C’mon, play with me.

I scan the table, everyone’s still busy minding their own business. Wesley hasn’t returned and with him gone, I type extremely fast conscious of being caught.

Me: Play with you? I got no toys to share. How exactly do you want me to play with you?

“Let’s roll, everyone,” Cliff calls from the end of the table.

Wesley’s back, settling himself in as I tuck my cell into my purse. We dive back into conversations about a potential trip to England to watch the Victoria Secret show that Farrah has front-row tickets for. The thought of traveling to England excites me. I’ve been there only once with my parents and have only poor memories of rain and grumpy hotel staff.

But it’s not only that.

Logan lives in England.

Poppy claps her hands excitedly, suggesting we visit her hometown while we’re there. Obviously, Cliff planted this idea in Poppy and Farrah’s heads making it look like a spur-of-the-moment decision. It’s the first I’ve heard of it, but the more we speak, the more excited I become.

In season one we did a trip to New York City. It wasn’t so special given that I’d been th

ere many times before. Our second season had us vacationing in Maui, where we had the time of our lives.

England will be fantastic. Except for one thing—I’m going to be there with Wesley not Logan.

Farrah talks about all the things she has planned for us, and when the cameras focus on her and Poppy discussing the tube, I half pull out my cell and check the text from Logan.

Logan: Wherever you are, there must be somewhere you can go and privately video playing with yourself. I dare you.

I quickly re-read the text, not realizing I’m holding my breath and that the cameras are rotating between us. I shove my cell into my purse again, distracting myself in conversation before excusing myself to use the restroom.

“Emerson, can’t you wait?” Cliff asks, agitated.

“No, Cliff,” I answer in annoyance. “Excuse me.” I remove the napkin from my lap, disappearing to the back of the restaurant where I trap myself in the corner cubicle while pulling out my cell with desperation.

Me: Why must you dare me? You know I never back down.

I’ve never done anything like this. The thrill of the unknown pushes me to act spontaneously. I slide my panties off shoving them in my purse as I raise my leg and rest it on the lid of the toilet seat. Lifting my dress above my thighs, I position my phone underneath my dress, hitting the record button. Playfully rubbing myself, I close my eyes and allow the excitement to make me come in less than a minute. In no way does it compare to the times Logan made me come, but still, it rocked my body until I stop recording with my hands shaking.

Catching my breath, I hit send with the caption…

Me: You wanted to play. Here you go. Have fun.

The video takes a while to send, so I remove my panties from my bag, place them on and straightening my dress. I exit the cubicle and pop my cell on the expensive vanity to wash my hands. Gazing into the mirror, my cheeks are flushed and emit a glow. Grabbing a washcloth, I quickly dampen it and try to cool myself down before anyone notices.

The vibration of my cell is loud, echoing through the small restroom.

Logan: Shit. Now I feel like I owe you something in return. Have fun.

A video comes through that shows it’s fifteen seconds long. I’m about to watch it when the door swings open, making me jump. In her nine-inch heels, which hammer on the marble floor, Farrah’s dripping in gold strung around her neck and arms making the Queen of England look poor. She positions herself next to me, pulling a compact out of her purse. She dabs her nose without any effort to disguise her fake smile.

“You’re not fooling anyone by pretending you’re together. I know Wesley hasn’t been on his best behavior.”


Tags: Kat T. Masen Romance