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Girls Like You

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It's girls like you that make me think I'm better off
home on a Saturday night, with all my doors locked up tight
I won't be thinking about you, baby...


Logan didn't usually spend a whole lot of time thinking about the girls he slept with. He didn't have that sort of luxury. His life was mostly one-night-stands these days, mostly girls he didn't know, girls whose names he forgot by morning, whose numbers he didn't save to his phone, whose perfume made him scrunch his nose up when he found traces of it on his clothes the next day. He didn't like the idea of settling down, he didn't like commitment, he didn't like effort. He was used to disappointment and he was okay with using and losing women to keep himself satisfied. 

But when he fell into bed with Darcy, it was weird. Unlike most other girls, she didn't come talk to him, and she didn't initiate anything. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a girl and made a beeline for her. Usually the girls showed up beside him at the bar, with their compliments and their batting eyelashes and he would let himself be convinced to take them home. But he was the one who asked Darcy. 

He'd spotted her as soon as she walked in. She was wearing a sleek black dress which showed off her wicked curves, her hair fell in lazy waves, half-over one shoulder and falling into her eyes. She had big lips painted peach-pink and her eyes were sharp blue, prettier than anything he'd seen in a long time. She wore killer heels which gave her a beautiful sway to her hips when she walked and she drank slowly from her martini glass, running a fingertip round the rim of the glass before licking the salt from her finger.

And Logan wasn't the only one who had noticed. Every man in the room, taken or otherwise, had at least glanced at her, and there were several others whose eyes still lingered, still wanted. And Logan knew if he didn't make a move quickly, there would be a line of boys wanting to have a shot. 

So he threw back the last of his beer and wandered over to her. 

"You look too good for a place like this, sweetheart," he said, leaning on the bar next to her. He saw a few of the other hopeful men in his periphery looking disheartened as they missed their chance.

She shifted her gaze to Logan and gave him the once-over. He was taller than her, even with her wearing high-heels, and she seemed to approve. She raised one eyebrow and the corner of her lip twitched in an almost-smile. "I know," she replied. "That's the idea."

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"Nope. Just needed a drink."

Logan waved down the barman. "Mind if I buy you another one?"

"I don't see why not."

The barman came over and Logan said, "Another beer for me and a martini for the lady."

As the barman went to get their drinks, Logan saw her smirk. "Long time since anyone's called me a lady."

Logan felt a smile tug at his own lips. "Maybe nobody's been treating you right."

"Maybe I don't want someone to treat me right," she said, and Logan was taken aback for a moment.

Their drinks arrived and Logan threw a note at the barman, not bothering to wait for change. "Then maybe I'm your man," he said, picking up his beer. "Name's Logan."

"I'm Darcy. Nice to meet you."

Logan forgets what else they said to each other. He remembered the way she winked at him and the way her lips wrapped around the olive from her drink and the smell of her - she wasn't wearing perfume, or if she was it had faded, and she smelled amazing to him. He remembered the way she tipped her head back to finish her martini and her neck stretched up and he wanted to mark that pale skin with his teeth and he moved closer to tell her as much, let her know that he was having trouble controlling himself when she looked so goddamn pretty and he had a place downtown they could go if she wanted.

He remembered what she said next. She gave him a knowing smile and said in a quiet voice, "You got any more drinks at your place?"

Of course he did. He let his hand slide down to the small of her back as he led her out to the street and they got a cab back to his place. Darcy waltzed into his flat like she owned it, glancing around at the sparse furniture, and she made some disparaging joke about the decor. Logan had rolled his eyes, found the Jacks and poured them both a glass. Darcy downed it like a shot and asked immediately for another, and Logan raised an eyebrow but obliged. He wasn't going to argue with the woman. 

The drinks got into her system quickly and not long after she pulled on his collar and told him in as many words that she wanted him to fuck her, and fuck her hard. Logan didn't even blink at that one. His hands found her waist and pulled her in close, and kissed her. It was all tongue and teeth and the strong taste of spirits, and Logan didn't hesitate to tug her hair, pull her head back, bite and worry at the perfect pale skin, and Darcy liked that. She told him so, told him he was perfect, he was just what she needed. Not some well-to-do guy who would make love to her sweetly and hold her like a porcelain doll. Logan's fingertips left bruises on her soft flesh and he liked the way they looked.

They tore off their clothes and fell into bed in a mess of sweat and hair and Darcy's sharp laughter followed by gasps and moans as Logan's hand went between her legs. He went to get protection but Darcy pulled him back and said she was on birth control and she wanted to feel all of him inside of her and he was not about to say no to that. He thrust inside her with one smooth motion and Darcy cried out, her eyes glazed over from alcohol and pleasure as Logan turned her onto her side and pulled her leg to his chest and fucked into her, hard and deep until she was writhing, clawing at the sheets, speechless for the first time that night.

They fit together so well and she felt so good and tight and hot around him, and it took all of Logan's willpower not to finish, waiting to see Darcy's eyes roll back and hear her choke on her scream as she peaked, body trembling as he fucked her through it, and then he leaned over her and thrust hard and fast until he came with a cry, pressing himself deep into her until he heard her whine.

He lay next to her, gasping for breath, pushing the hair from his eyes to stare at the rash he had left on her neck, watching the way her body moved as she breathed. He trailed his hands all over her body, gauging her reaction, her laughter and her gasps, and when he slid his hand between her legs, she made an approving sound and pressed back against him, her body arching as he circled her clit and slid his fingers between her wet lips to part her again. He shifted his hips to slip inside her once more, and relished the startled gasp she made at being filled again.

She made a passing comment about his stamina and he chuckled before he began to thrust into her again, slowly, lazily, bringing her to orgasm quickly and keeping still inside of her to feel the way her body tightened around him. All he wanted to do was watch her come over and over again, hear her cry out, hear her breath hitch in her throat.

But after round three at four in the morning, with Darcy falling from his lap with a satisfied, tired smile plastered on her face, they were both wrought out and he was done for. He fell asleep with his hand slung over her middle, his body just a little apart from hers, his face buried into her hair. 

And when he woke up, she was gone.