Logan's Calling

LOGAN'S CALLING

Abbey Polidori

Copyright © 2013 Abbey Polidori

All rights reserved.

CHAPTER ONE

Hope

Logan James sat on his bed, hand on his cock and eyes locked on Sarah's luscious ass. 

He had been living next door to Sarah Cooper for almost a year now and damn if spying on her through her bedroom window hadn't become the greatest pleasure of his life. 

Since returning from Afghanistan three years ago, it seemed like all his friends were either moving on and trying to forget their military buddies or they were still serving overseas. Some of his old buddies seemed dead inside, as if a piece of their soul was lost forever among the swirling sands of the Middle Eastern deserts.  

War is hell and the aftermath is torture.

He had come here to the small town of Hope, Ontario to hide away from the world. For a while he had been happy enough rattling around in the large house and yard but then Sarah had moved in next door and since then he had an aching in his gut that was built of pure desire. He had no idea why he felt like he would go crazy if he didn't at least see her through his window every day but whatever the reason, just the thought of her could send him into a libido overdrive. Was he crazy? Perverted? A Crazy pervert?

No point thinking about that now. Not when Sarah Cooper was sashaying her incredible ass around her bedroom, dressed in just a flimsy piece of black lingerie. Thank God for hot summer nights. Sarah always had her windows open and she always wore just enough to cover her sweet body and little enough to give Logan a show that fuelled his masturbatory fantasies. Her bed sheets and carpet were white and that made her shapely figure and black lingerie stand out even more in contrast. The mirrored doors on her closet also gave him multiple angle views of her body.

His cock was rock hard in his hand and he stroked it with a firm grip, his eyes watching the pert smooth globes of his neighbor's delectable ass while his mind imagined scenarios in which he would be in that room with her and she would want this cock that he held in his hand, want it inside her sweet tightness. She would get on her knees on the bed like a female animal waiting to be mounted by him, the male, needing his thick length to slip inside her.

Logan grunted. Damn she turned him on. And he hadn't actually seen her naked so his mind was filling in the missing details. The reality would surely match his fantasy and then some. 

But the reality was not going to happen. He had to face that.

Sure, I'll face that fact. I face it every day of my goddamn life but I don't want to think about it now while she's over there in that pretty black lingerie and I have my cock in my hand and I'm so fucking hard. Let me have this dream.

In her bedroom, Sarah had opened her closet and stood in front of it, pondering the clothes inside. Probably choosing an outfit for tomorrow. Logan's own room was sparsely furnished with just a double bed that felt too big at times and a simple wooden bookcase packed with action novels. His own closet was in the spare room next door but it didn't contain much in the way of clothes. He never went out anyway except into the yard so jeans and a few t-shirts served all his needs. And his neighbor unknowingly served his sexual needs. 

The lingerie barely covered the swell of her bottom. Her long sleek legs were bare and Logan imagined them locked around his back as he drove himself into Sarah Cooper's sweet pussy. His eyes roamed up to the most gorgeous rack he had seen in a long time, thrusting proudly against the confines of the flimsy material and dipping into a deep cleavage. She had a fucking amazing set of tits and he wanted to feel them in his hands, squeeze their softness and put his mouth to the puckered nipples. 

As he pumped himself harder and faster, his eyes wandered down past Sarah's flat stomach to the place where he longed to be . He could only imagine what delights lay there, nestled between the soft flesh of her thighs.

It was all too much. He gritted his teeth and pistoned his cock furiously, his breath hissing and his eyes narrowed as he felt the familiar tingle in his ball sac. Oh fuck he was going to shoot and it was all for her, all for Sarah. She bent over to grab some shoes from the floor of her closet and that momentary glimpse of her ass, of the lingerie riding up to reveal two perfectly shaped ass cheeks bisected with a crack that promised hidden treasures, was the image that exploded into Logan's mind as he erupted all over himself. His seed flew from the tip of his cock and he gasped, 'Sarah!' as he came. 

He closed his eyes and imagined her kneeling in front of him, looking at him over her shoulder and smiling as she lifted the lingerie to reveal her ass. 'Give it to me, Logan' she whispered.

'Yes!' he cried out as he continued to explode over his hand and over the wooden floor of his bedroom.

By the time he was done, he sat there in the dark breathing in great gulps of the night air and waiting for the shudders of pleasure to subside. How long was he going to go on like this? It had been almost a year now and all of this spying on Sarah was driving him crazy. Hell, maybe he had already gone crazy. He spent his entire military career watching people from afar as a sniper and now he was doing the same thing back on civilian street. Except this time he wasn't going to go in for the kill. He wasn't even going to speak to her. 

Logan James and Sarah Cooper had shared exactly one interaction the whole time she had been living on Arroyo Street. On the morning she moved in, she was standing on the sidewalk in front of her house in tight blue jeans and a pretty little pink t-shirt that had a picture of a cute skull with a pink bow on its head. The design had been distorted by the swell of Sarah's chest. Logan had been returning in his truck from grocery shopping and had seen her there on the sidewalk and whispered, 'Whoa,' to himself as he parked on his driveway.

As he slid out of the truck she looked over and waved. Fuck she had a cute face as well as a drop-dead fantastic body. Pale blue eyes like the sea and blond hair cut into a shoulder-length sexy style with straight bangs.

Logan put on his best smile and waved back.

Then he got the grocery sacks out of the back seat and went into his house.

And in the year she had lived just next door, he never spoke to her again. Fucking idiot.

Their entire neighborly interaction amounted to just that one time a year ago. 

Unless he counted all the times he had jacked off while he watched her through his window.

Fucking asshole.

He didn't even go shopping for groceries anymore, he had them delivered. This house was a prison of his own making.

He got up off the bed and padded naked to the white-tiled bathroom. Turning the shower on full blast and very hot, he shook his head at what he had done, what he had become. A fucking peeping tom. He stepped into the scalding spray and gritted his teeth as the hot needles of water sent his nerves tingling. 

In some places on his body he could feel nothing. The nerves across his left pec and and down the left side of his stomach were shot. Literally. He traced the ugly gnarly scars there, amazed as always at the contrast between the tough lines of healed flesh and the smoothness of the muscles they bisected. He worked out in the homemade gym in the basement and he was in good shape, almost as good as when he was serving in Afghanistan. But no matter how strong his chest, how broad his shoulders and how defined his abs, the scars remained...running across his body like ugly snaking rivers.

No doubt about it, bullets were bad for you.

He had never hesitated to pull the trigger during his tour of duty. It was his job. It was war.

But when his team had been ambushed in a desert village and the tables had been turned, Logan experienced first hand the damage that metal does to flesh at high velocity. He barely remembered that day except in flashes. His most vivid memory was of waking up the next day in a military hospital and being told the rest of his team were dead. He had cried then for the first time since he had been over there. And as he put his hands to his face, he felt the thick wad of bandages there.

He turned off the shower and stepped out onto the tiled bathroom floor. After the stinging hot spray, the tiles felt cool on the soles of his feet. Steam filled the room and condensation hung heavy on the mirrors.

In the hospital, the nurses had removed all mirrors from his room. He had first caught his reflection in the hospital kitchen, in the chrome surface of a kettle. The concave design distorted his features beyond recognition but he could clearly see the reason why he wasn't allowed mirrors until he had 'come to terms with his injuries' as the army psychologist said in their numerous sessions recounting the ambush and the loss of Logan's fire team.

Wiping a streak of condensation from the bathroom mirror, he turned his face so that he could only see the reflection of the right side. Black hair, gray eyes, maybe too much stubble on his cheeks and chin. All normal. He turned to show his left side to the glass and grimaced. The ugly scar ran from above his eyebrow, over his eye socket and down the length of his cheek to his jawline. He was lucky the bullet had missed his eye, the doctors said. Yeah, very fucking lucky.

This was why he could never talk to the goddamned gorgeous Sarah Cooper. 

He was a freak.

An ugly fucking freak. 

He returned to his bedroom and switched on the overhead fan. It was too fucking hot. Even tough he had AC, he usually opened his windows and used the fan at night. He slept better that way than in the house's recycled air.   

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he glanced over at Sarah's bedroom.

Her lights were out and the room was shrouded in blackness.

Logan lay back naked on the bed and stared up at the blades of the fan spinning relentlessly like the wheel of fucking fortune. Wasn't there a saying that fortune smiled on the brave? He had been brave once. He had served in the pits of hell and he had done his job efficiently and well. What had Fortune done for him? She had made him into an ugly beast that no one should have to look upon.

And then, just to create a great punch line, She had moved Sarah Cooper in next door.

Have a great life, asshole. You can look but you aren't ever going to touch. How many ways can you say 'torture'?

He wished Fortune were here right now smiling at him because he wanted nothing more than to punch out Her teeth.

Grinning a little at that thought, he closed his eyes. What dreams would come tonight? It wasn't like he had a whole menu to choose from; up until a year ago he had experienced nightmares of the war every night. Nightmares in which his team were being shot up around him and crying out for help and he wanted to help them but his left side...oh God his left side...it hurt, it burned. He couldn't reach them before he collapsed to to the hard sand.

Now at least he had two types of dreams that visited him in the night.

Nightmares of the war.

And dreams of Sarah.

CHAPTER TWO

React

A knock at the door woke Logan.

He rolled over to check the clock on the nightstand and groaned. Seven thirty? Who the fuck was knocking at seven thirty?

Grabbing his robe, he tied it around him as he descended the stairs. The figure on the front porch was visible through the frosted glass on the front door. Brown uniform. Logan checked out the window before opening the door. A brown delivery van parked a little way down the street. What the fuck? He wasn't expecting anything.

Making sure his robe was belted tightly, he opened the door and felt the heat of the summer morning enter the house. 

The young man on the porch looked maybe twenty and when he saw Logan he smiled and said a cheery, 'Good morning,' before he
really
saw Logan and his eyes went to the nasty scar and wouldn't pull away from there.

'Good morning,' he repeated more somberly. 

Not the pity. Logan hated the pity the most. It made him feel like the delivery guy saw him as someone who wasn't quite a member of the human race and should be pitied by the people who were fully paid up card-carrying members. The normal people. Maybe the kid was right; Logan
didn't
feel like he was fully a part of the human race anymore. Sure he lived on this street of three and four bed houses with their manicured lawns and mid-sized families but his own house was a prison. He rattled around in here like a creature that didn't belong in the world outside.

'What do you want?' May as well make the kid feel even more uncomfortable. This will be a great start to his day - faced with a disfigured monster at seven thirty in the morning and having that monster be rude too. Well he shouldn't have woken me up so goddamn early.