Mikey shrugs. “Like you say, it is what it is.”
Then Mikey says, “Okay, Logan, I’m going to need to look at this all a different way. My team here, it needs way better leadership.”
Mikey raises the cigar. “Time for a management shakeup,” he says, “Logan, you’re going to be my captain. You’re going to run the team.” He lets thick curls of smoke drift up in front of his face. “The money will be great. I have big plans. I need my team running like a machine. You are the man to lick them into shape.”
Logan says, “I’ve got a different plan, Mikey.” A hush drops on the room. “I’ll train your team. I’ll get them to combat readiness, teach them leadership skills. I’ll teach them to think strategically, and then show them the need for discipline. What we learned in the Corps, Mikey.”
Mikey’s head shaking, “No, Logan, no.” He moves forward in the chair. “The parts where you teach my team how to function as a responsive fighting machine,” he takes another cigar. “I like those parts. But I like better the part where you stay and run the show.”
“You wouldn’t like that, Mikey.” Logan is keeping his voice low and level. Even. “You’d like how I do a lot of things, but you wouldn’t like the way I always do the right thing. Your methods and mine, they’re not a good fit. The thing with the skinhead? The way that you want to see that going down, Mike, that’s not me. These guys,” He waved to indicate the men shifting their weight and fidgeting at the back of the room, “These are your guys. They are in step with you. I’ll give you a perfect team. Me? I’m my own man. You don’t want that.” Logan straightens up.
Mikey thinks it over. Rolls the cigar around. Looks at Logan. Shakes his head. Looks at the men at the far end of the room. Then back up to Logan. “Okay, Logan. You know your business..”
He holds out a hand.
Logan says, “There’s more.”
Mikey glowers. “Don’t push it, Logan.”
“The marker you hold on Greta’s father. This is the deal breaker, Mikey. Non-negotiable.”
Chapter 10 Logan
I cannot not wait any longer to take my Greta and make her mine forever.
Only the best hotel will do. The three receptionists watch us cross the tiled lobby. I remember the wrecked hotel where we came so close to being together. It was luxurious, too, before whatever caused its collapse.
I feel dirty, worn out, and rough on every edge. I guess I look it, too.
The receptionist looks up with a professional smile. I tell her I want the bridal suite. Her eyes widen. She starts to tell me about the price but I just hand her my card. “It doesn’t matter. Book us for a week but let me know before you rent it for any day next week.”
Mikey transferred my advance payment before we left. I have easily enough to cover the cost of a presidential suite, probably for several months. I’d have even more if I could cash the marker on Greta’s father. It will be worth more to me than any amount of money, though.
The receptionist hands me two keycards. I tell her we urgently need champagne on ice, club sandwiches and fries, and a chocolate cake.
On the top floor, in the powder blue and cream suite, Greta dances on the thick carpet and in front of the plush, draped curtains, in the main room and the lounge. She bounces on the thick bed covers. The light in her smile warms and arouses me.
Her voice shakes with a buzz like a live electric charge, “Daddy, it’s wonderful!”
I stand in the center of the room, feeling like a muddy armadillo on a birthday cake. “I love you so much, baby doll.”
She runs to me. I hold her face. “Greta,” Her body leans and presses into mine. Her eyes open wide at the speed and force of the reaction in my pants.
She sighs a long, trembling breath in and her teeth chew into the side of her lower lip.
The heat of her soft, swollen muffin shoves and rocks against the knotting muscle of my thigh. Her little hands scamper all over me, but when they reach the front of my pants, she sighs.
“Daddy, it’s so big!” she gasps, “You can’t fit all of that inside me. Can you?”
Hearing her say that only makes it grow thicker. Her eyes stretch wide as she feels it swell. I reach between her thighs, sweep underneath all the way to her ass. Her cheeks clench and tense in my grip.
“Oh, you make me feel so tiny, Daddy.”
Her pussy has drenched her panties.
"Daddy, are you going to make me yours, now?" Her eyes sparkle up into mine. The patter of her heart beating against my chest makes my whole body swell. I stroke her cheek, her neck.
I stroke her face, brushing her cheek with my thumb. Her head leans into my palm and she nuzzles. A tense little line at the corner of her eye tells me how nervous she is.
Who wouldn't be? I don't even know if she's seen or handled an erect cock, before. Most likely not, I’m guessing. She is so perfectly inexperienced.
Everything about her makes me adore her more. Makes me harder. Makes me need her.
"Greta, I'm going to make you mine, forever. It's going to be wonderful. I'm going to fill you, stretch you wide, enter you in ways you never imagined." As I tell her, as I pull her by her waist, breathing nearer to me, eyes sparkle and her lower lip trembles.
"It is going to hurt, though, isn't it, Daddy?"
I wouldn't lie to her, not for anything. I kiss her. Deep. Full and long. My tongue and hers teasing in a dance, our breaths join together, making us into one. Her mouth
