Pimpin' Ain't Easy
Fic Title: Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy
Rating: NC-17 for strong sex and language
Word Count: 5366
Pairing: LoVe
Spoilers: everything up to and including “My Big Fat Greek Rush Week”
Summary: Veronica goes “undercover” at Pi Sigma, and Logan is not pleased. Guess what happens?
Disclaimer: I do not own “Veronica Mars” and am in no way affiliated with the show or Rob Thomas
A/N: written for the Incognito challenge issued by vm_library and Madame Librarian, who wanted some fluff after my other angsty fic.
“I need a favor.”
Wallace Fennel halted in raising his cheeseburger to his mouth, pausing only long enough to flatly reply, “No.”
“Wallace!” Veronica exclaimed, miffed. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”
Unapologetically, he ticked off, “In the past two months alone, I’ve had to plant a bug on a large, scary linebacker, distract the registrar with inappropriate advances that got me slapped, and, my personal favorite, got kicked in the balls by the girl you had me tail who thought I was a mugger. In all honesty, being taped bare-assed to the flagpole was more fun.”
Piz stopped halfway down, hovering humorously over his chair as he set his tray down. “When did you-”
“It’s not important!” Wallace cut in, face flushing lightly at the memory of his first meeting with Veronica. “The point is, no more favors until my bruised testicles heal.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mac exclaimed, sliding in beside Piz.
Ignoring Mac, Veronica petulantly sighed, “I could’ve just wanted you to pass the salt.”
“Did you?”
“Well, no, but now I’m just gonna look like a jackass. Thanks a lot, plucky sidekick.”
With a sigh, appropriately guilty, he groaned, “What?”
“No, no, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you and your crushed nuts.” Withdrawing a small flier from her pocket, she said to Piz in her pseudo-seductive voice, “Have you ever considered the glamorous life of a private dick’s wingman? Perks include snickerdoodles and scantily-clad, drunken coeds?”
“False advertising!” Wallace objected. “There are no coeds.”
“Au contraire, mon ex-frere. For this assignment, there are many.”
Mac reached across the table, picking up the square piece of paper, and read aloud, “Pimps up, hos down! Get wild, crazy, and hopefully naked at the annual Pi Sigma Pimps and Hos bash. Free shots for the ladies, pimps by invitation only. Hottest hos will be featured in a date auction, so single hos only. Ugly chicks need not apply.” Tossing the paper onto the table, Mac declared, “I’m not sure whether to vomit or shower first.”
“How did I not hear about this?” Piz asked, eyes lighting up at the lingerie model on the flyer.
“Because pimps are invite only. This is the invite.”
“And how did you get one?”
“Logan got one.”
“You stole your boyfriend’s invitation?” Piz queried in disbelief.
“No.” Grabbing a French fry from Wallace’s plate, she corrected, “I copied it. Mail theft is a federal offense and I try to operate only on a state level. I am way too pretty for hard time.”
“So why do you want me to be your pimp?” Wallace asked, suddenly interested once again.
“I don’t. You said no. Now, Piz is my pimp.”
“Please! I was made for this! My picture is in the dictionary next to the word 'pimp'!”
“No way,” Piz argued. “You said no and Veronica promised me girls! You get the next one!”
“Guess that makes Veronica the pimp,” Mac quipped with a sly grin.
“Veronica, you need experience here,” Wallace tried to reason. “I have 2 years of training. I have earned this. You can’t give me sweaty ballplayers and the new guy naked girls! Seniority counts!”
“Wallace-“
“Besides, Pi Sigma is bad news. I have badass fighting experience! Remember Lucky? I took that guy down with no fear or hesitation! And while I love my boy, is he ready to take a bullet for you?”
“Bullet?” Piz echoed, his eyes widening. “There are bullets?”
“This is Neptune, sweetie. Bullets aren’t even the worst,” Mac informed him, patting his hand comfortingly.
“Um, Veronica, I don’t know if we’re close enough for me to die for you.”
Veronica smiled at Wallace. “Guess that means you’re back on the first string.”
“Damn right!”
“You know, you could’ve just said 'yes' to begin with and saved us the time.”
“If you had started the conversation with naked girls, I just might’ve.”
“Did I mention you have to go with me to pick out my costume? BFF shopping trip!” Veronica squealed, wiggling her fingers in Wallace's direction and completely ignoring his chagrined expression.
“And there goes my last shred of masculinity.”
* * *
“You know, whenever I pictured picking out g-strings and pasties for a girl, you were never the girl in my fantasies.”
Veronica poked her head out around the curtain of the dressing room in the exclusive lingerie boutique on Main Street. “Believe me, nothing warms my heart more than to hear that.”
Wallace glanced around the racks of lace and ruffles uncomfortably, shifting his weight back and forth, less the pimp he pretended to be and more the 18-year-old boy that he was. “So…why couldn’t Mac do this?”
Inside the dressing room, Veronica surveyed the red-and-white striped teddy that she had picked up, the one that made her look like Santa’s Little Slut-Bag. With a groan, she pulled it off, reaching for the black one that Wallace had grabbed off the rack and thrust at her, trying desperately not to look at the underwear or the girl that would wear them.
“Because I need a guy’s opinion on what’s hot, and Mac is not a guy. And since, to quote Miss James, my social circle is “somewhat limited”, that leaves about three guys other than you: Piz, Weevil, and Logan. Since Piz has that…thing for me, that would just be supremely awkward. If Weevil ever saw me in naughty lingerie, he’d immediately tell Logan, and Logan would beat the crap out of him. And Logan can’t know about this-he would just blow it way out of proportion, and then I'd never hear the end of it,” Veronica sighed, punctuating it with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
Seeing a Tyra Banks lookalike across the store, Wallace distractedly replied, “Maybe Logan has the right idea.”
Adjusting her boobs to properly fill the black corset, Veronica warningly intoned, “Wallace…”
“Logan would kill me if something happened to you and I knew about it beforehand. And that’s after your dad did things to me that would make it impossible for my mom to have an open casket at my funeral.”
Bracing herself to reveal a little too much of her body to her best friend, Veronica retorted, “Then you have to ask yourself one question: is the damage that Logan could do to you worse than what I will do if you tell him?”
“I ain’t afraid of you,” he protested, slight indignation in his voice.
A smile playing at her lips as she parted the curtain just enough so that he could see her, she teased, “Keep believing that. False bravado is so cute.”
Wallace turned to say something smart-alecky back, but instead, his jaw dropped. After thirty seconds of dead silence, Veronica flushed and pulled the curtain closed, convinced she looked ridiculous. Just as she was mentally calculating how many weeks she was going to have to avoid Wallace in order for the awkwardness to dissipate, she heard her best friend hoarsely declare, “That’s the one, V. That’ll get you in.”
Glancing at the price tag, Veronica let out a low whistle. It was going to take a lot of overtime hours at the library to pay for this vastly overpriced scrap of mesh and lace, but if some cash was all it would take to find the bastard that had raped Parker, then it was worth it.
* * *
“I feel like I barely see you anymore,” Logan whispered into Veronica’s ear as they lay in the massive Jacuzzi tub, bubbles surrounding them, Veronica’s back pressed against Logan’s chest. The votive candles that lined the vanity flickered, casting the only light in the room, and Veronica appreciated the effort he had made for their romantic evening. Between the candles, the bath, and the strawberries and cream, Veronica had joked that maybe he was the woman in the relationship, but Logan had just kissed the tip of her nose and swore that he knew there was a girly girl buried beneath her tough exterior.
Snuggling a bit into him, the warm water lapping around their bodies, Veronica teased, “If you keep doing stuff like this, I might just schedule you in more often.”
No merriment in his voice, he asked, “Is it because Dick’s here?”
“No,” she honestly replied, “he pretty much steers clear of me.”
Vulnerability resonating with every syllable, he queried, “Is it because of me?”
“Why would it be because of you?”
“You’ve seemed a little…distant since I gave you the key.”
Not wanting to have this conversation when she was so close to actual relaxation, Veronica swore, “It’s not that. I just have a lot on my plate right now with classes and work. Don’t take it personally.”
A touch of anger in his voice, he grumbled, “Well, gee, I wouldn’t want little ol' me to cramp your style.”
“Logan!” she cried as he climbed out of the tub, tugging a towel off of the rack and stomping out of the bathroom, leaving Veronica sitting stunned in the warm water, only the bubbles to keep her company.
With a sigh, Veronica made her way out of the tub, plucking her fluffy bathrobe off of the hook on the door. She had just cinched the belt when she saw that Logan, now wearing his boxers, was furiously mashing his pillow with his fists, his broad back to her. As she climbed on the bed behind him, her weight further depressing the mattress, and she softly began, “Logan-”
“You know, I don’t know what it’s going to take to get you to open up. I do everything I can think of, and you still…you still keep yourself closed off.”
“I’m not trying to keep myself closed off!” she objected. “Really, it’s just been a tough couple of weeks.”
Whipping his head around, he snapped, “Yeah, for me too, Veronica! See, my best friend, he’s become a self-destructing alcoholic that gets his ass kicked in food courts and moved in with me because he has no one else. And my girlfriend, the one that I’ve already lost before, spends all of her time with a guy who wants nothing more than to get in her pants.”
“Logan-”
“And let’s not forget that my girlfriend goes to everyone but me for help with her cases, including the convicted felon!”
“I asked Weevil once because he knew-”
“You don’t get it, Veronica! I would do anything to keep you in my life, to make you the biggest part of my life. But you…you just keep acting like I’m an inconvenience!”
Veronica just sat in stunned silence, water droplets cooling on her skin, as she stared at her boyfriend. She was not naïve enough to think that her relationship with Logan was not without problems and massive obstacles; it wouldn’t be her love life if there wasn’t a fight to the (probably literal) death. But maybe, just maybe, Logan was right. She had been struck with her own fears and insecurities about their relationship lately. Everyone knew that high school relationships never worked in college, and there were so many opportunities available to them now.
She’d see the way girls threw themselves at Logan, and she’d get jealous despite his protestations that he was uninterested. And God knew that he was starting to get insecure about her friendship with Piz. Plus, with the confessions and death of Cassidy in the Spring, Logan had become insanely overprotective, which had led to her hiding some of her investigations. Honesty was not the best policy if Veronica wanted to keep working without a bodyguard, and apparently she hadn't been as stealthy about it as she had thought.
But instead of confessing her own fears, she sat on the end of Logan's bed for another minute, the angry silence radiating between them powerfully. Finally, she got dressed and left his room, stepping over an unconscious Dick on her way out.
* * *
The ground beneath Veronica’s feet throbbed from the pulsing bass that was coming from the Pi Sig house, and she shivered beneath her black knee length coat in a way that had nothing to do with the chilly September air. It was that shiver that went through her every time she knew she was about to do something that was potentially dangerous, inevitably stupid, and probably regrettable. And yet, that still was not enough to make her turn around on her 4-inch stiletto heels, march back to her car, and forget this plan had ever existed. Veronica Mars didn't give up.
“Not too late to back out,” Wallace pointed out, reading her mind in that way that best friends do. He was decked out in a bright yellow pinstriped suit with matching hat, both of which he just happened to have in his closet. A pair of wingtip shoes and walking cane completed the ensemble. It had taken Veronica a good ten minutes to stop the hysterical laughter that had bubbled out of her lips when she had stopped at his room to pick him up.
It had been a bit awkward when she had gone to pick up Wallace and drop off Mac, who was going to have an anime marathon with Piz while Parker talked with her rape crisis counselor in their room. Piz had shifted in his seat, blatantly trying to peek over the top of her tightly-cinched coat, and, despite Mac’s best attempts at alleviating any awkwardness, Veronica had wanted to run far and fast from the room. She could handle Piz’s crush when they were on equal footing; however, when she was dressed like a stripper, they were definitely not equal.
“No, I have to do this,” Veronica stated firmly, trying more to convince herself than Wallace.
As Veronica took his proffered arm, Wallace patted her arm gently. “You know you gotta take the coat off, right?”
“Yes!”
“Wanna borrow my pimp stick?”
“Why would I need your pimp stick?”
“'Cause I don’t think you’ve got your taser hidden in your cleavage.”
A smile tugging at her lips, Veronica countered, “It’s sweet that you think I have cleavage.”
Withdrawing the Xeroxed invitation from his pocket, Wallace playfully asked, “You ready to get your freak on?”
Surveying the multitudes of drunken men and half-naked coeds that were just inside the door, Veronica just sighed and shook her head. This was going to be a very long night.
* * *
The guy at the door-the very definition of a no-neck meat-head-took one look at the invitation and then looked at his clipboard. After a moment, he declared, “You aren’t Logan Echolls.”
Fuck, Veronica internally swore before loudly demanding in her best drunken voice, “Do you know who he is?”
“Not Logan Echolls,” the jock deadpanned.
“This is Wallace Fennel, the hottest freshmen player for the Hearst basketball team! Don’t you know anything?!”
“Look, you can come in, but he can’t,” the doorman stated firmly.
Deciding to step it up, Veronica whipped off her coat, revealing every titillating inch of skin, grateful for the way that Wallace subtly averted his eyes. “Mister, this is the new star of the team, and you’re gonna turn him away?! You know, the Kappas wouldn’t do that! Everyone was right! The Pi Sigs are a bunch of no fun losers who turn away the coolest people!”
“Oh, I’m gonna get punched tonight,” Wallace mumbled under his breath, tightening his grasp on his cane.
“Buck!” another brother yelled, coming to the door. “What’s going on?”
“This guy stole an invite, and his girlfriend says we’re losers.”
“I am not his girlfriend!” faux-drunken Veronica protested, putting her hands on her slender hips and assuming a defensive posture. “I just thought that you guys were the coolest guys on campus, and you won’t even let a basketball star come in? Screw you, guys! I am way too hot to waste my time here if you’re gonna be assholes!”
“Hey, sweetness, calm down,” the peacemaking brother soothed, draping an arm around her bare shoulders, Veronica barely able to conceal her shudder of disgust. “Of course he can come in; we must’ve forgotten to send him his invite. And you are right; you are way too hot to waste your time, which is why the Pi Sigs are gonna treat you right. You gotta a boyfriend, honey?”
Allowing herself to be led inside the frat house, Wallace following, she giggled, “Nope! Why do you ask?”
“You wanna have the best guys here fighting for you?”
“A'course!” Veronica slurred.
“Ever hear of the ho auction?”
* * *
Logan hated to admit that he was wrong, but he knew that he had fucked up the other night by throwing a temper tantrum. He had let his petty insecurities effect what would’ve been a romantic night with Veronica, and, as a result, he hadn’t heard from her in days. They were both far too stubborn for their own good, but Logan was going to suck it up, apologize, and invite her out for a night of dinner, dancing, and gratuitous makeup sex.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t find his girlfriend. Her cell was turned off and she wasn’t working at the library. Out of desperation, he had called Mars Investigation only to have Keith say that he thought she was with Mac. However, once he got to Mac’s dorm, he was informed that no men were allowed on the floor, so he had to call upstairs, where Mac’s very angry roommate told him that Mac was with Wallace and Piz. After searching through the campus directory, Logan finally found out which room Wallace was in, and he was so exhausted by the search for his girlfriend that he was almost reconsidering the wisdom of this trip.
After one sharp knock, the door whipped open and there stood Piz in his argyle, his floppy hair in several different directions. His expression immediately shifted to guarded discomfort as he said, “Hey, Logan.”
Trying to bite back his irritation, he managed, “Piz. Can I talk to Veronica?”
Confusion wrinkled his brow. “Veronica’s not here.”
His irritation became a bit more acute. “Then where is she?”
“She took Wallace with her to the Pimps and Ho-”
“Homeless!” Mac blurted out, suddenly leaping into Logan’s line of vision. “She went with Wallace to pimp the homeless.”
“Pimp the homeless,” Logan parroted, not believing it for a second.
“It’s Neptune,” Mac defended. “Anything to make a buck.”
“She went to the Pi Sig party?”
“Logan-”
“Mac.”
As Piz tried to melt into the background, Mac just sputtered, “She didn’t want you to worry-”
But Logan was already gone, stalking out of the dorm and heading straight for his hotel room. If he was gonna get his girlfriend, he needed his invitation.
* * *
In the holding pen for those going up for auction-and Veronica did not have any illusions that it was anything but a holding pen for inebriated, slutty girls that actually wanted to be bought by the drunken pigs outside-Veronica was feeling more than a little inadequate. She knew that she was not the best built girl on campus; she was far too petite to ever have Pamela Anderson curves or legs like Gisele. But standing here amongst future super-models and full-time anorexics, she simultaneously felt poor, stumpy, and pre-pubescent. Of course, it probably didn’t help her self-esteem that the sorority sister that was supposed to wrangle the hos took one look at her, wrinkled her nose, and said to her escort, “Seriously?”
Veronica had no intention on being auctioned off. On the list of things that she would rather have happen to her, dental surgery with rusty instruments and no anesthetic beat it out; unnecessary anal surgery was also above it; 24 hours in a confined space with Dick Casablancas was even higher. No, she was just going to fake nausea caused by her fake drunkenness and then investigate upstairs. That was her plan.
“Round up the hos!” Buck, the no-neck Neanderthal that had once manned the door, ordered the sorority sister, the unfortunately-nicknamed Bitsy. “Cheapest ones go first!”
Bitsy smirked before pointing one manicured finger at Veronica. “You! Hey, you, ugly girl! You’re first.”
Veronica’s jaw dropped, prepared to tell Bitsy exactly where she could put the clipboard she was holding, when her fellow hos, apparently trying to show solidarity, pushed her forward into Buck’s thick arms. Veronica struggled a bit as Buck escorted her to the makeshift stage and she nearly passed out when she saw the gathered crowd of “pimps” and the hos that weren’t granted the privilege of being part of the auction.
“Coming up first on the auction block we have Veronica!” Dave, the brother that was MC-ing, read off of the piece of paper. “Veronica is a freshman elementary ed major who enjoys walking through the park in the rain and kissing cute boys! She lists her turn ons as everything and her turn offs as guys who can’t hold their liquor. Now, who wants to place the opening bid on young Veronica?!”
“Twenty bucks!” one male called.
“Thirty!”
As the bids started, Veronica found Wallace in the crowd, a bleached blonde ho on his arm, and Veronica sent him a look that plainly read, “If you don’t bid on me, I swear to God, I will remove your testicles and make you eat them.” Obediently, he bid 60 dollars only to be topped by a guy wearing star sunglasses.
When the bids broke $100, Wallace held up his hands helplessly, not having that amount of money on him. As the creepy star sunglasses guy was about to win with a bid of $150, a new male voice boomed, “$200.”
“$250!” Sunglasses yelled.
“$300,” the sexy, strange man countered.
“We got us a bidding war!” the MC cried. “Will you go higher?”
“Fuck, yeah! That’s my ho! $350!”
Calmly, not breaking a sweat, a confident male voice announced, “$1000!”
Veronica couldn’t help but gasp. While she certainly hadn’t thought that she was the cheapest girl in the holding pen, she definitely didn’t think she was worth a grand, and she could tell by some of the glances exchanged in the audience that several other people didn’t think so either. As the MC pronounced her to be sold, the mystery man stepped forward, revealing his face, and every drop of arousal that had tugged at Veronica melted away as she saw who her pimp was.
There stood Logan, no amusement in his eyes, every muscle tense with anger. As he handed his check to the MC and drawled, “Well, I guess you’re my ho now.”
If the setting was different, Veronica might’ve been offended or even turned on. Right now, neither emotion was right. No, right now, she was a little scared and more than a little nervous.
* * *
Because Logan had spent more money on Veronica than last year’s auction had brought in with all of the girls, they had given him the “high roller’s suite,” which was basically the president’s single room all to himself for an hour so that he could spend time with his 'ho'. They had even given him a bottle of champagne-albeit cheap-to “celebrate” their night together. Veronica wasn’t sure if she should be horrified now that there were girls who actually considered it an honor to spend the night here, or be horrified later, after her boyfriend freaked out on her and ended their relationship.
The moment the door was closed, Veronica began, “Logan-”
“Shh!” he hissed, moving towards the CD player near the window, locating a CD in the case, and pressing play. As Marvin Gaye began to blast, he slowly turned towards her, setting his hat on the desk and slowly shrugging out of his coat, draping it over the back of a chair.
“Logan,” she tried again.
“Shh!” he repeated, sliding his suspenders off of his arm. “You get to talk when I say you talk. For a thousand dollars, you’re gonna be quiet for a few fucking minutes.”
A tendril of unease uncoiled in her stomach. “Please don’t be mad.”
His voice deceptively calm, he asked, “For what? For lying and saying you’d be with Mac? For coming to a party at a house that is probably full of rapists? For stealing my invitation to come here? Or, my personal favorite, for letting every drunken asshole on this campus see you in your underwear?”
“I know you’re angry-”
Taking several small steps towards her, he replied, “I'm not sure 'angry' quite covers it.”
“But I need to find the guy who raped Parker; I need to make this right. And I knew that if I told you I wanted to come here that you’d try and stop me, and it’s too important to not come! This was my chance! I know it wasn’t my best plan-”
Now officially invading her personal space, he breathed, “Understatement.”
“Please don’t be mad,” she repeated.
“I’ll be mad later.”
“Later?”
He nodded. “Right now, I want my money’s worth.”
Outrage filling her body, she exclaimed, “Excuse me?!”
A smirk tugging at his lips, he replied, “I just dropped a grand to spend an hour of uninterrupted time with my girlfriend. I think the very least you can do is put out.”
Veronica’s jaw dropped. “That is the most disgusting-”
It should’ve been insulting, degrading even, but when Logan’s hands suddenly covered her ass, scooping her up in one motion, pressing her hard against the door, his mouth plundering her own, Veronica felt anything but demeaned. Despite the force with which he had pinned her, his mouth was passionately gentle, his fingers caressing her skin in an attempt to soothe her, to assure her that he meant her no harm. Veronica moaned into his mouth, her fingers moving to tangle into his thick hair.
Gasping as their mouths separated, Logan panted, “If I ever see you like this again, I’m not gonna be held responsible for my actions.”
Veronica couldn’t help but smile; possessive, jealous Logan always led to the most vigorous bouts of sex. “Does that mean you don’t want me to wear lingerie anymore?”
Unzipping his pants with one hand, he moved aside the damp crotch of her boy shorts, sliding his finger inside of her tantalizingly, before being replaced by his cock in one powerful thrust. Veronica cried out, her groan barely concealed by the music pounding both downstairs and in the room, and she bucked against him, her ass slamming into the hard wood of the door. She was probably going to have bruises on her backside for a week, but at the moment, she didn’t care. This was just too damn good to not take advantage of.
“No, you will be wearing this, a lot of this. Just not where anyone else is ever going to see you.”
Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, Veronica pulled herself upwards, bringing her mouth close to his ear, which she tugged with her teeth before whispering, “You’re the only one I ever want to see me.”
Holding her tighter, making sure that he stayed inside the hot, tight clutch of her body, Logan backed up until his knees hit the bed. He carefully sat down before lying back, bringing Veronica with him until she was straddling his body. Every movement inside of her had caused her to moan, pushing her closer and closer to climax, and, the closer she got, the more sensitive every inch of her body became. The scratch of the fabric of the corset was now rubbing against her painfully erect nipples, and Veronica couldn’t stand it anymore. Reaching behind her, she began to fumble with the multiple hooks that held the corset on. However, in her excitement, her fingers grappled fruitlessly at the satiny fabric.
“Logan!” she whined, twisting her hips impatiently while trying to tug the straps of the corset down, anything to rid herself of the coarse feel of the material.
“Relax, baby,” he soothed, sitting up, changing the position so suddenly that it caused Veronica to cry out in aching pleasure as she climaxed suddenly. As she trembled through her orgasm, Logan carefully unfastened the hooks, removing the corset from her.
Once she was perfectly bare, he sighed, “That’s better.”
“You, too,” she requested, working the buttons of his shirt open, pushing it off of him hastily, his muscled chest now available for her questing hands.
Logan toed off his shoes, then shook off his pants, which had gathered at his ankles, trying to keep Veronica from squirming right off of his lap. She was riding him furiously, desperate to achieve her pleasure again. She was trying to go faster, go harder, go the way that always made Logan’s eyes roll back in his head and beg for more, so she was shocked when he stilled her hips with his hands and pressed a long lingering kiss to the hollow of her throat.
“Logan…”
“Let’s go slower, okay? I wanna make love to you.”
Startled, incredulous that Logan would want to stop a fast, hard fuck for lovemaking, she just nodded, groaning with unhappiness as Logan slid from her body. He flipped her onto her back, rearranging her on the pillows, her blonde hair fanned around her head like a halo. He sat back on his heels, taking her in, and he slowly moved over her, sliding in with one determined thrust. Once he was fully seated within her, he kissed her eyelids, her cheekbones, her nose, anything he could reach. His hips moved in a steady rhythm, the type of hard, slow strokes that made her quiver to the very tips of her toes, and Veronica’s hands roamed the planes of his back, soft mewls slipping from her mouth.
“You’re so beautiful, Veronica,” he panted. “If anything ever happened to you…I don’t know what I’d do. You’re my whole world.”
A lump rose in her throat, one crystalline tear sliding down her cheek as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise me.”
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him down for a kiss before swearing against his lips, “Promise.”
Their hips met with more frequency, more power, and Veronica couldn’t hold back anymore, her nails biting into the corded muscles of his back as she cried out her orgasm, Logan’s face buried in her neck as he came. As they lay there, covered in sweat, panting from exertion, Veronica queried hopefully, “So does this mean you’re not mad anymore?”
Logan lazily rolled his head towards her. “No. I foresee much groveling in your future. There will be baked goods…and blow jobs.”
The laugh slipped out before she could stop it. “I kinda love you.”
“Good, 'cause I’m painfully in love with you.”
After several more minutes of afterglow, Veronica rolled away, slipping back into her lingerie. “Okay, so we have about 20 minutes before this fabulous suite isn’t ours anymore. Let’s look for evidence that can nail these fuckers.”
“And they say romance is dead,” Logan quipped.
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later, Logan’s suit jacket around her shoulders, the passwords to several different sites in Logan’s pocket for Mac to hack into later, Veronica descended the stairs, her hair no longer in its upsweep, lipstick gone, her legs shaky from the 3 minute-quickie that Logan had insisted upon after finding the passwords.
Wallace stood by the door in his florescent suit, took one look at them, and declared, “I don’t wanna know.”
“Wallace, my boy, you aren’t old enough to hear it anyway,” Logan joked with a wink.
As they exited the house, Veronica informed him, “We got what we needed.”
“I got four phone numbers,” Wallace offered in return. “This was your best plan ever.”
Smiling at her boyfriend, his eyes joyful, clothes rumpled, face the very picture of satisfaction, Veronica nodded in agreement.
An hour later, after returning Wallace to his dorm, Veronica was firmly ensconced in Logan’s bed. She stayed there for the next two days. When they finally emerged, the first place Logan headed was La Perla.
Rating: NC-17 for strong sex and language
Word Count: 5366
Pairing: LoVe
Spoilers: everything up to and including “My Big Fat Greek Rush Week”
Summary: Veronica goes “undercover” at Pi Sigma, and Logan is not pleased. Guess what happens?
Disclaimer: I do not own “Veronica Mars” and am in no way affiliated with the show or Rob Thomas
A/N: written for the Incognito challenge issued by vm_library and Madame Librarian, who wanted some fluff after my other angsty fic.
“I need a favor.”
Wallace Fennel halted in raising his cheeseburger to his mouth, pausing only long enough to flatly reply, “No.”
“Wallace!” Veronica exclaimed, miffed. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”
Unapologetically, he ticked off, “In the past two months alone, I’ve had to plant a bug on a large, scary linebacker, distract the registrar with inappropriate advances that got me slapped, and, my personal favorite, got kicked in the balls by the girl you had me tail who thought I was a mugger. In all honesty, being taped bare-assed to the flagpole was more fun.”
Piz stopped halfway down, hovering humorously over his chair as he set his tray down. “When did you-”
“It’s not important!” Wallace cut in, face flushing lightly at the memory of his first meeting with Veronica. “The point is, no more favors until my bruised testicles heal.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mac exclaimed, sliding in beside Piz.
Ignoring Mac, Veronica petulantly sighed, “I could’ve just wanted you to pass the salt.”
“Did you?”
“Well, no, but now I’m just gonna look like a jackass. Thanks a lot, plucky sidekick.”
With a sigh, appropriately guilty, he groaned, “What?”
“No, no, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you and your crushed nuts.” Withdrawing a small flier from her pocket, she said to Piz in her pseudo-seductive voice, “Have you ever considered the glamorous life of a private dick’s wingman? Perks include snickerdoodles and scantily-clad, drunken coeds?”
“False advertising!” Wallace objected. “There are no coeds.”
“Au contraire, mon ex-frere. For this assignment, there are many.”
Mac reached across the table, picking up the square piece of paper, and read aloud, “Pimps up, hos down! Get wild, crazy, and hopefully naked at the annual Pi Sigma Pimps and Hos bash. Free shots for the ladies, pimps by invitation only. Hottest hos will be featured in a date auction, so single hos only. Ugly chicks need not apply.” Tossing the paper onto the table, Mac declared, “I’m not sure whether to vomit or shower first.”
“How did I not hear about this?” Piz asked, eyes lighting up at the lingerie model on the flyer.
“Because pimps are invite only. This is the invite.”
“And how did you get one?”
“Logan got one.”
“You stole your boyfriend’s invitation?” Piz queried in disbelief.
“No.” Grabbing a French fry from Wallace’s plate, she corrected, “I copied it. Mail theft is a federal offense and I try to operate only on a state level. I am way too pretty for hard time.”
“So why do you want me to be your pimp?” Wallace asked, suddenly interested once again.
“I don’t. You said no. Now, Piz is my pimp.”
“Please! I was made for this! My picture is in the dictionary next to the word 'pimp'!”
“No way,” Piz argued. “You said no and Veronica promised me girls! You get the next one!”
“Guess that makes Veronica the pimp,” Mac quipped with a sly grin.
“Veronica, you need experience here,” Wallace tried to reason. “I have 2 years of training. I have earned this. You can’t give me sweaty ballplayers and the new guy naked girls! Seniority counts!”
“Wallace-“
“Besides, Pi Sigma is bad news. I have badass fighting experience! Remember Lucky? I took that guy down with no fear or hesitation! And while I love my boy, is he ready to take a bullet for you?”
“Bullet?” Piz echoed, his eyes widening. “There are bullets?”
“This is Neptune, sweetie. Bullets aren’t even the worst,” Mac informed him, patting his hand comfortingly.
“Um, Veronica, I don’t know if we’re close enough for me to die for you.”
Veronica smiled at Wallace. “Guess that means you’re back on the first string.”
“Damn right!”
“You know, you could’ve just said 'yes' to begin with and saved us the time.”
“If you had started the conversation with naked girls, I just might’ve.”
“Did I mention you have to go with me to pick out my costume? BFF shopping trip!” Veronica squealed, wiggling her fingers in Wallace's direction and completely ignoring his chagrined expression.
“And there goes my last shred of masculinity.”
* * *
“You know, whenever I pictured picking out g-strings and pasties for a girl, you were never the girl in my fantasies.”
Veronica poked her head out around the curtain of the dressing room in the exclusive lingerie boutique on Main Street. “Believe me, nothing warms my heart more than to hear that.”
Wallace glanced around the racks of lace and ruffles uncomfortably, shifting his weight back and forth, less the pimp he pretended to be and more the 18-year-old boy that he was. “So…why couldn’t Mac do this?”
Inside the dressing room, Veronica surveyed the red-and-white striped teddy that she had picked up, the one that made her look like Santa’s Little Slut-Bag. With a groan, she pulled it off, reaching for the black one that Wallace had grabbed off the rack and thrust at her, trying desperately not to look at the underwear or the girl that would wear them.
“Because I need a guy’s opinion on what’s hot, and Mac is not a guy. And since, to quote Miss James, my social circle is “somewhat limited”, that leaves about three guys other than you: Piz, Weevil, and Logan. Since Piz has that…thing for me, that would just be supremely awkward. If Weevil ever saw me in naughty lingerie, he’d immediately tell Logan, and Logan would beat the crap out of him. And Logan can’t know about this-he would just blow it way out of proportion, and then I'd never hear the end of it,” Veronica sighed, punctuating it with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
Seeing a Tyra Banks lookalike across the store, Wallace distractedly replied, “Maybe Logan has the right idea.”
Adjusting her boobs to properly fill the black corset, Veronica warningly intoned, “Wallace…”
“Logan would kill me if something happened to you and I knew about it beforehand. And that’s after your dad did things to me that would make it impossible for my mom to have an open casket at my funeral.”
Bracing herself to reveal a little too much of her body to her best friend, Veronica retorted, “Then you have to ask yourself one question: is the damage that Logan could do to you worse than what I will do if you tell him?”
“I ain’t afraid of you,” he protested, slight indignation in his voice.
A smile playing at her lips as she parted the curtain just enough so that he could see her, she teased, “Keep believing that. False bravado is so cute.”
Wallace turned to say something smart-alecky back, but instead, his jaw dropped. After thirty seconds of dead silence, Veronica flushed and pulled the curtain closed, convinced she looked ridiculous. Just as she was mentally calculating how many weeks she was going to have to avoid Wallace in order for the awkwardness to dissipate, she heard her best friend hoarsely declare, “That’s the one, V. That’ll get you in.”
Glancing at the price tag, Veronica let out a low whistle. It was going to take a lot of overtime hours at the library to pay for this vastly overpriced scrap of mesh and lace, but if some cash was all it would take to find the bastard that had raped Parker, then it was worth it.
* * *
“I feel like I barely see you anymore,” Logan whispered into Veronica’s ear as they lay in the massive Jacuzzi tub, bubbles surrounding them, Veronica’s back pressed against Logan’s chest. The votive candles that lined the vanity flickered, casting the only light in the room, and Veronica appreciated the effort he had made for their romantic evening. Between the candles, the bath, and the strawberries and cream, Veronica had joked that maybe he was the woman in the relationship, but Logan had just kissed the tip of her nose and swore that he knew there was a girly girl buried beneath her tough exterior.
Snuggling a bit into him, the warm water lapping around their bodies, Veronica teased, “If you keep doing stuff like this, I might just schedule you in more often.”
No merriment in his voice, he asked, “Is it because Dick’s here?”
“No,” she honestly replied, “he pretty much steers clear of me.”
Vulnerability resonating with every syllable, he queried, “Is it because of me?”
“Why would it be because of you?”
“You’ve seemed a little…distant since I gave you the key.”
Not wanting to have this conversation when she was so close to actual relaxation, Veronica swore, “It’s not that. I just have a lot on my plate right now with classes and work. Don’t take it personally.”
A touch of anger in his voice, he grumbled, “Well, gee, I wouldn’t want little ol' me to cramp your style.”
“Logan!” she cried as he climbed out of the tub, tugging a towel off of the rack and stomping out of the bathroom, leaving Veronica sitting stunned in the warm water, only the bubbles to keep her company.
With a sigh, Veronica made her way out of the tub, plucking her fluffy bathrobe off of the hook on the door. She had just cinched the belt when she saw that Logan, now wearing his boxers, was furiously mashing his pillow with his fists, his broad back to her. As she climbed on the bed behind him, her weight further depressing the mattress, and she softly began, “Logan-”
“You know, I don’t know what it’s going to take to get you to open up. I do everything I can think of, and you still…you still keep yourself closed off.”
“I’m not trying to keep myself closed off!” she objected. “Really, it’s just been a tough couple of weeks.”
Whipping his head around, he snapped, “Yeah, for me too, Veronica! See, my best friend, he’s become a self-destructing alcoholic that gets his ass kicked in food courts and moved in with me because he has no one else. And my girlfriend, the one that I’ve already lost before, spends all of her time with a guy who wants nothing more than to get in her pants.”
“Logan-”
“And let’s not forget that my girlfriend goes to everyone but me for help with her cases, including the convicted felon!”
“I asked Weevil once because he knew-”
“You don’t get it, Veronica! I would do anything to keep you in my life, to make you the biggest part of my life. But you…you just keep acting like I’m an inconvenience!”
Veronica just sat in stunned silence, water droplets cooling on her skin, as she stared at her boyfriend. She was not naïve enough to think that her relationship with Logan was not without problems and massive obstacles; it wouldn’t be her love life if there wasn’t a fight to the (probably literal) death. But maybe, just maybe, Logan was right. She had been struck with her own fears and insecurities about their relationship lately. Everyone knew that high school relationships never worked in college, and there were so many opportunities available to them now.
She’d see the way girls threw themselves at Logan, and she’d get jealous despite his protestations that he was uninterested. And God knew that he was starting to get insecure about her friendship with Piz. Plus, with the confessions and death of Cassidy in the Spring, Logan had become insanely overprotective, which had led to her hiding some of her investigations. Honesty was not the best policy if Veronica wanted to keep working without a bodyguard, and apparently she hadn't been as stealthy about it as she had thought.
But instead of confessing her own fears, she sat on the end of Logan's bed for another minute, the angry silence radiating between them powerfully. Finally, she got dressed and left his room, stepping over an unconscious Dick on her way out.
* * *
The ground beneath Veronica’s feet throbbed from the pulsing bass that was coming from the Pi Sig house, and she shivered beneath her black knee length coat in a way that had nothing to do with the chilly September air. It was that shiver that went through her every time she knew she was about to do something that was potentially dangerous, inevitably stupid, and probably regrettable. And yet, that still was not enough to make her turn around on her 4-inch stiletto heels, march back to her car, and forget this plan had ever existed. Veronica Mars didn't give up.
“Not too late to back out,” Wallace pointed out, reading her mind in that way that best friends do. He was decked out in a bright yellow pinstriped suit with matching hat, both of which he just happened to have in his closet. A pair of wingtip shoes and walking cane completed the ensemble. It had taken Veronica a good ten minutes to stop the hysterical laughter that had bubbled out of her lips when she had stopped at his room to pick him up.
It had been a bit awkward when she had gone to pick up Wallace and drop off Mac, who was going to have an anime marathon with Piz while Parker talked with her rape crisis counselor in their room. Piz had shifted in his seat, blatantly trying to peek over the top of her tightly-cinched coat, and, despite Mac’s best attempts at alleviating any awkwardness, Veronica had wanted to run far and fast from the room. She could handle Piz’s crush when they were on equal footing; however, when she was dressed like a stripper, they were definitely not equal.
“No, I have to do this,” Veronica stated firmly, trying more to convince herself than Wallace.
As Veronica took his proffered arm, Wallace patted her arm gently. “You know you gotta take the coat off, right?”
“Yes!”
“Wanna borrow my pimp stick?”
“Why would I need your pimp stick?”
“'Cause I don’t think you’ve got your taser hidden in your cleavage.”
A smile tugging at her lips, Veronica countered, “It’s sweet that you think I have cleavage.”
Withdrawing the Xeroxed invitation from his pocket, Wallace playfully asked, “You ready to get your freak on?”
Surveying the multitudes of drunken men and half-naked coeds that were just inside the door, Veronica just sighed and shook her head. This was going to be a very long night.
* * *
The guy at the door-the very definition of a no-neck meat-head-took one look at the invitation and then looked at his clipboard. After a moment, he declared, “You aren’t Logan Echolls.”
Fuck, Veronica internally swore before loudly demanding in her best drunken voice, “Do you know who he is?”
“Not Logan Echolls,” the jock deadpanned.
“This is Wallace Fennel, the hottest freshmen player for the Hearst basketball team! Don’t you know anything?!”
“Look, you can come in, but he can’t,” the doorman stated firmly.
Deciding to step it up, Veronica whipped off her coat, revealing every titillating inch of skin, grateful for the way that Wallace subtly averted his eyes. “Mister, this is the new star of the team, and you’re gonna turn him away?! You know, the Kappas wouldn’t do that! Everyone was right! The Pi Sigs are a bunch of no fun losers who turn away the coolest people!”
“Oh, I’m gonna get punched tonight,” Wallace mumbled under his breath, tightening his grasp on his cane.
“Buck!” another brother yelled, coming to the door. “What’s going on?”
“This guy stole an invite, and his girlfriend says we’re losers.”
“I am not his girlfriend!” faux-drunken Veronica protested, putting her hands on her slender hips and assuming a defensive posture. “I just thought that you guys were the coolest guys on campus, and you won’t even let a basketball star come in? Screw you, guys! I am way too hot to waste my time here if you’re gonna be assholes!”
“Hey, sweetness, calm down,” the peacemaking brother soothed, draping an arm around her bare shoulders, Veronica barely able to conceal her shudder of disgust. “Of course he can come in; we must’ve forgotten to send him his invite. And you are right; you are way too hot to waste your time, which is why the Pi Sigs are gonna treat you right. You gotta a boyfriend, honey?”
Allowing herself to be led inside the frat house, Wallace following, she giggled, “Nope! Why do you ask?”
“You wanna have the best guys here fighting for you?”
“A'course!” Veronica slurred.
“Ever hear of the ho auction?”
* * *
Logan hated to admit that he was wrong, but he knew that he had fucked up the other night by throwing a temper tantrum. He had let his petty insecurities effect what would’ve been a romantic night with Veronica, and, as a result, he hadn’t heard from her in days. They were both far too stubborn for their own good, but Logan was going to suck it up, apologize, and invite her out for a night of dinner, dancing, and gratuitous makeup sex.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t find his girlfriend. Her cell was turned off and she wasn’t working at the library. Out of desperation, he had called Mars Investigation only to have Keith say that he thought she was with Mac. However, once he got to Mac’s dorm, he was informed that no men were allowed on the floor, so he had to call upstairs, where Mac’s very angry roommate told him that Mac was with Wallace and Piz. After searching through the campus directory, Logan finally found out which room Wallace was in, and he was so exhausted by the search for his girlfriend that he was almost reconsidering the wisdom of this trip.
After one sharp knock, the door whipped open and there stood Piz in his argyle, his floppy hair in several different directions. His expression immediately shifted to guarded discomfort as he said, “Hey, Logan.”
Trying to bite back his irritation, he managed, “Piz. Can I talk to Veronica?”
Confusion wrinkled his brow. “Veronica’s not here.”
His irritation became a bit more acute. “Then where is she?”
“She took Wallace with her to the Pimps and Ho-”
“Homeless!” Mac blurted out, suddenly leaping into Logan’s line of vision. “She went with Wallace to pimp the homeless.”
“Pimp the homeless,” Logan parroted, not believing it for a second.
“It’s Neptune,” Mac defended. “Anything to make a buck.”
“She went to the Pi Sig party?”
“Logan-”
“Mac.”
As Piz tried to melt into the background, Mac just sputtered, “She didn’t want you to worry-”
But Logan was already gone, stalking out of the dorm and heading straight for his hotel room. If he was gonna get his girlfriend, he needed his invitation.
* * *
In the holding pen for those going up for auction-and Veronica did not have any illusions that it was anything but a holding pen for inebriated, slutty girls that actually wanted to be bought by the drunken pigs outside-Veronica was feeling more than a little inadequate. She knew that she was not the best built girl on campus; she was far too petite to ever have Pamela Anderson curves or legs like Gisele. But standing here amongst future super-models and full-time anorexics, she simultaneously felt poor, stumpy, and pre-pubescent. Of course, it probably didn’t help her self-esteem that the sorority sister that was supposed to wrangle the hos took one look at her, wrinkled her nose, and said to her escort, “Seriously?”
Veronica had no intention on being auctioned off. On the list of things that she would rather have happen to her, dental surgery with rusty instruments and no anesthetic beat it out; unnecessary anal surgery was also above it; 24 hours in a confined space with Dick Casablancas was even higher. No, she was just going to fake nausea caused by her fake drunkenness and then investigate upstairs. That was her plan.
“Round up the hos!” Buck, the no-neck Neanderthal that had once manned the door, ordered the sorority sister, the unfortunately-nicknamed Bitsy. “Cheapest ones go first!”
Bitsy smirked before pointing one manicured finger at Veronica. “You! Hey, you, ugly girl! You’re first.”
Veronica’s jaw dropped, prepared to tell Bitsy exactly where she could put the clipboard she was holding, when her fellow hos, apparently trying to show solidarity, pushed her forward into Buck’s thick arms. Veronica struggled a bit as Buck escorted her to the makeshift stage and she nearly passed out when she saw the gathered crowd of “pimps” and the hos that weren’t granted the privilege of being part of the auction.
“Coming up first on the auction block we have Veronica!” Dave, the brother that was MC-ing, read off of the piece of paper. “Veronica is a freshman elementary ed major who enjoys walking through the park in the rain and kissing cute boys! She lists her turn ons as everything and her turn offs as guys who can’t hold their liquor. Now, who wants to place the opening bid on young Veronica?!”
“Twenty bucks!” one male called.
“Thirty!”
As the bids started, Veronica found Wallace in the crowd, a bleached blonde ho on his arm, and Veronica sent him a look that plainly read, “If you don’t bid on me, I swear to God, I will remove your testicles and make you eat them.” Obediently, he bid 60 dollars only to be topped by a guy wearing star sunglasses.
When the bids broke $100, Wallace held up his hands helplessly, not having that amount of money on him. As the creepy star sunglasses guy was about to win with a bid of $150, a new male voice boomed, “$200.”
“$250!” Sunglasses yelled.
“$300,” the sexy, strange man countered.
“We got us a bidding war!” the MC cried. “Will you go higher?”
“Fuck, yeah! That’s my ho! $350!”
Calmly, not breaking a sweat, a confident male voice announced, “$1000!”
Veronica couldn’t help but gasp. While she certainly hadn’t thought that she was the cheapest girl in the holding pen, she definitely didn’t think she was worth a grand, and she could tell by some of the glances exchanged in the audience that several other people didn’t think so either. As the MC pronounced her to be sold, the mystery man stepped forward, revealing his face, and every drop of arousal that had tugged at Veronica melted away as she saw who her pimp was.
There stood Logan, no amusement in his eyes, every muscle tense with anger. As he handed his check to the MC and drawled, “Well, I guess you’re my ho now.”
If the setting was different, Veronica might’ve been offended or even turned on. Right now, neither emotion was right. No, right now, she was a little scared and more than a little nervous.
* * *
Because Logan had spent more money on Veronica than last year’s auction had brought in with all of the girls, they had given him the “high roller’s suite,” which was basically the president’s single room all to himself for an hour so that he could spend time with his 'ho'. They had even given him a bottle of champagne-albeit cheap-to “celebrate” their night together. Veronica wasn’t sure if she should be horrified now that there were girls who actually considered it an honor to spend the night here, or be horrified later, after her boyfriend freaked out on her and ended their relationship.
The moment the door was closed, Veronica began, “Logan-”
“Shh!” he hissed, moving towards the CD player near the window, locating a CD in the case, and pressing play. As Marvin Gaye began to blast, he slowly turned towards her, setting his hat on the desk and slowly shrugging out of his coat, draping it over the back of a chair.
“Logan,” she tried again.
“Shh!” he repeated, sliding his suspenders off of his arm. “You get to talk when I say you talk. For a thousand dollars, you’re gonna be quiet for a few fucking minutes.”
A tendril of unease uncoiled in her stomach. “Please don’t be mad.”
His voice deceptively calm, he asked, “For what? For lying and saying you’d be with Mac? For coming to a party at a house that is probably full of rapists? For stealing my invitation to come here? Or, my personal favorite, for letting every drunken asshole on this campus see you in your underwear?”
“I know you’re angry-”
Taking several small steps towards her, he replied, “I'm not sure 'angry' quite covers it.”
“But I need to find the guy who raped Parker; I need to make this right. And I knew that if I told you I wanted to come here that you’d try and stop me, and it’s too important to not come! This was my chance! I know it wasn’t my best plan-”
Now officially invading her personal space, he breathed, “Understatement.”
“Please don’t be mad,” she repeated.
“I’ll be mad later.”
“Later?”
He nodded. “Right now, I want my money’s worth.”
Outrage filling her body, she exclaimed, “Excuse me?!”
A smirk tugging at his lips, he replied, “I just dropped a grand to spend an hour of uninterrupted time with my girlfriend. I think the very least you can do is put out.”
Veronica’s jaw dropped. “That is the most disgusting-”
It should’ve been insulting, degrading even, but when Logan’s hands suddenly covered her ass, scooping her up in one motion, pressing her hard against the door, his mouth plundering her own, Veronica felt anything but demeaned. Despite the force with which he had pinned her, his mouth was passionately gentle, his fingers caressing her skin in an attempt to soothe her, to assure her that he meant her no harm. Veronica moaned into his mouth, her fingers moving to tangle into his thick hair.
Gasping as their mouths separated, Logan panted, “If I ever see you like this again, I’m not gonna be held responsible for my actions.”
Veronica couldn’t help but smile; possessive, jealous Logan always led to the most vigorous bouts of sex. “Does that mean you don’t want me to wear lingerie anymore?”
Unzipping his pants with one hand, he moved aside the damp crotch of her boy shorts, sliding his finger inside of her tantalizingly, before being replaced by his cock in one powerful thrust. Veronica cried out, her groan barely concealed by the music pounding both downstairs and in the room, and she bucked against him, her ass slamming into the hard wood of the door. She was probably going to have bruises on her backside for a week, but at the moment, she didn’t care. This was just too damn good to not take advantage of.
“No, you will be wearing this, a lot of this. Just not where anyone else is ever going to see you.”
Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, Veronica pulled herself upwards, bringing her mouth close to his ear, which she tugged with her teeth before whispering, “You’re the only one I ever want to see me.”
Holding her tighter, making sure that he stayed inside the hot, tight clutch of her body, Logan backed up until his knees hit the bed. He carefully sat down before lying back, bringing Veronica with him until she was straddling his body. Every movement inside of her had caused her to moan, pushing her closer and closer to climax, and, the closer she got, the more sensitive every inch of her body became. The scratch of the fabric of the corset was now rubbing against her painfully erect nipples, and Veronica couldn’t stand it anymore. Reaching behind her, she began to fumble with the multiple hooks that held the corset on. However, in her excitement, her fingers grappled fruitlessly at the satiny fabric.
“Logan!” she whined, twisting her hips impatiently while trying to tug the straps of the corset down, anything to rid herself of the coarse feel of the material.
“Relax, baby,” he soothed, sitting up, changing the position so suddenly that it caused Veronica to cry out in aching pleasure as she climaxed suddenly. As she trembled through her orgasm, Logan carefully unfastened the hooks, removing the corset from her.
Once she was perfectly bare, he sighed, “That’s better.”
“You, too,” she requested, working the buttons of his shirt open, pushing it off of him hastily, his muscled chest now available for her questing hands.
Logan toed off his shoes, then shook off his pants, which had gathered at his ankles, trying to keep Veronica from squirming right off of his lap. She was riding him furiously, desperate to achieve her pleasure again. She was trying to go faster, go harder, go the way that always made Logan’s eyes roll back in his head and beg for more, so she was shocked when he stilled her hips with his hands and pressed a long lingering kiss to the hollow of her throat.
“Logan…”
“Let’s go slower, okay? I wanna make love to you.”
Startled, incredulous that Logan would want to stop a fast, hard fuck for lovemaking, she just nodded, groaning with unhappiness as Logan slid from her body. He flipped her onto her back, rearranging her on the pillows, her blonde hair fanned around her head like a halo. He sat back on his heels, taking her in, and he slowly moved over her, sliding in with one determined thrust. Once he was fully seated within her, he kissed her eyelids, her cheekbones, her nose, anything he could reach. His hips moved in a steady rhythm, the type of hard, slow strokes that made her quiver to the very tips of her toes, and Veronica’s hands roamed the planes of his back, soft mewls slipping from her mouth.
“You’re so beautiful, Veronica,” he panted. “If anything ever happened to you…I don’t know what I’d do. You’re my whole world.”
A lump rose in her throat, one crystalline tear sliding down her cheek as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise me.”
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him down for a kiss before swearing against his lips, “Promise.”
Their hips met with more frequency, more power, and Veronica couldn’t hold back anymore, her nails biting into the corded muscles of his back as she cried out her orgasm, Logan’s face buried in her neck as he came. As they lay there, covered in sweat, panting from exertion, Veronica queried hopefully, “So does this mean you’re not mad anymore?”
Logan lazily rolled his head towards her. “No. I foresee much groveling in your future. There will be baked goods…and blow jobs.”
The laugh slipped out before she could stop it. “I kinda love you.”
“Good, 'cause I’m painfully in love with you.”
After several more minutes of afterglow, Veronica rolled away, slipping back into her lingerie. “Okay, so we have about 20 minutes before this fabulous suite isn’t ours anymore. Let’s look for evidence that can nail these fuckers.”
“And they say romance is dead,” Logan quipped.
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later, Logan’s suit jacket around her shoulders, the passwords to several different sites in Logan’s pocket for Mac to hack into later, Veronica descended the stairs, her hair no longer in its upsweep, lipstick gone, her legs shaky from the 3 minute-quickie that Logan had insisted upon after finding the passwords.
Wallace stood by the door in his florescent suit, took one look at them, and declared, “I don’t wanna know.”
“Wallace, my boy, you aren’t old enough to hear it anyway,” Logan joked with a wink.
As they exited the house, Veronica informed him, “We got what we needed.”
“I got four phone numbers,” Wallace offered in return. “This was your best plan ever.”
Smiling at her boyfriend, his eyes joyful, clothes rumpled, face the very picture of satisfaction, Veronica nodded in agreement.
An hour later, after returning Wallace to his dorm, Veronica was firmly ensconced in Logan’s bed. She stayed there for the next two days. When they finally emerged, the first place Logan headed was La Perla.