Page 1 of His Good Girl
Chapter1
Logan
Staring at the swirls and loops of the tattoo etched into her back, I grip her wrists tighter, pulling her arms back and pump harder. The dim glow from the city lights outside and the rain splattering against the window give the darkened apartment an eerie glow.
I don’t want to see her face. I’m not here for that. And this will be my last time with her.
She cries out, her back arching. I grunt softly and come into the condom covering my cock. Draining my balls, I let go of her wrists, and she slumps to the bed, panting harshly. I’ve barely worked up a sweat. I needed a release, and she provided one. Holding the condom at the base of my cock, I slip from the bed and drag it off as I make my way to the en-suite bathroom. Dumping it in the basin, I run the hot tap, rinsing away my semen and watching it swirl down the drain like a mini whirlpool.
Can’t be too careful.
Shelley isn’t above using it for her own gain. But it isn’t me she wants. No, she wants what I can give her.
Turning the tap off, I tie the condom into a knot, wrap it in toilet paper and dump it in the bin.
Sauntering back into the bedroom, aiming straight for my clothes, laid neatly over the chair in the corner, she watches me dress.
“Tomorrow?” she asks.
Pulling on my Hugo Boss suit pants before buttoning up my crisp white shirt, I sit in the chair to put my socks and shoes on.
Silently rising, I pull my suit jacket on, feeling the heavy phone in my inner pocket thump against my chest.
Making my way over to the bedroom door, I pause, looking back over my shoulder. “This is over, Shelley.”
I take a step forward, ignoring her hiss of anger. “Logan, wait.”
“We’re done.”
“Tell me what I need to know.”
Turning around to see her naked and kneeling on the bed, her tiny tits, skinny waist, and the gap between her thighs actually doesn’t do it for me. I like curves.
“You know it doesn’t work that way.”
“Logan, please. I want in, and you know how to get me noticed.”
“You’re already in the door, Shelley. Solitaire knows who you are.”
“I’m low-level,” she spits out. “I want power.”
“I can’t tell you how to get that.”
“Give me something, Logan, please.”
I shake my head. “The only thing I can tell you is that whatever act you commit that will get their attention has to matter. And it has to cost you.”
“Fuck!” she roars. “That’s nothing.”
I shrug. “It’s all you get. Bye, Shelley.”
Turning to leave, I hear the vase hit the wall next to the door I’ve just passed through. I don’t think she will cause me problems. All she wants is for Quentin to notice her so she can move up the ranks of the Secret Society that operates below the shimmering surface of the city. I can’t give her what she wants, so she will find someone who can.
Leaving her opulent apartment, I head downstairs, making my way out into the dark, rainy night, pulling the collar up slightly on my jacket to stop the rain from trickling down the back of my neck. Grimacing when I realize I’ve left my tie at Shelley’s, I’m not going back for it, so it will have to be a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
The walk to my own building, nestled in the heart of the city, overlooking the river in the most exclusive part of town, takes only five minutes. Bobbing my head to the doorman, I flash my card to the private elevator and ascend to my penthouse. As the doors slide open, directly opposite from the double front doors, I step forward, noticing a square package on the doormat.
My heart pounds in my chest as I bend down to retrieve the simply wrapped box. It is slightly lighter than it looks, so easy enough to balance on one hand as I open the door with the other. Kicking it closed behind me, I stride quickly over to the open-plan kitchen, where I place it on the counter. My hands shake when I reach for the fold in the wrapping to tear it off with a crunch of brown paper, which sounds too loud in the silence of the dark penthouse.
