“What the hell are you doing here?” I loomed over her, groping and hoping I looked every bit the complete and utter bastard. I glanced down and saw my Johnson betraying me as it reached through the slit in my shirt. Oh yeah, and I had a hole in the toe of my sock—the very sock she was looking at. What the hell did it take to get this woman out of my life?
She kept her head bowed and said nothing. I ran my hands through my hair, resisting the urge to yank a handful. I sat on the edge of the bed. I gulped the rest of the coffee and poured another cup, grateful for the carafe of steaming hot double-double. Time for another approach.
“Did you bring the coffee?”
Her head stayed bowed, her body still. Naked. My gaze glided down that beautiful neck, the graceful curve of her back.
She nodded, just a fraction of a movement. Her hands remained relaxed on her open thighs, palms upward. I could see the promise of what lay between those engorged lips.
“Thank you, that was very generous.”
She said nothing. Covering my nakedness became my top priority. I crossed the room and pulled on my loungers. I pulled off the shirt and socks that hid the sins of my debauchery—had I committed the cardinal sin? How the fuck could one guy make such a colossal mess of things. I went back to my perch on the bed. I channeled the lawyer within me. Again with the recalcitrant witness.
“Logan, you’re going to have to talk to me at some point. You can’t stay like that forever.” Brilliant Daniel.
“I’m happy to talk with you, sir.” She kept her head bowed.
“How long have you been there?”
“All night.”
“What do you mean, all night? You weren’t here when I got home.” Was she?
Her eyes remained fixed on the floor, but I could swear I saw a smile flash across her luscious mouth. “Actually, I was. Who do you think undressed you?” This time she grinned. “You’re kind of cute when you’re drunk, in a kind of—”
“I need you to get up and put something on.” Either that or fuck her blind before I threw her out.
“Not until you agree to hear me out, sir.”
My prolonged sigh would no doubt have made it into the Guinness Book of Records. “I’ll meet you in the Library. Put something on.”
She glided in wearing the peach silk gown with the tiny little slit between her breasts that just begged me to run my index finger along the edge of the lace trim. After pouring a cup of coffee with a healthy shot of Bailey’s, she sat on the sofa opposite me, curling her feet under that splendid ass. I gave her my best demonly lawyer look and tilted my head. The ball was in her court.
She took a sip, placed the cup on the coffee table, and let her hands rest demurely in her lap. “I don’t know where to start.”
This woman wore my patience to my last nerve. Or so I kept telling myself.
“How about telling me why you went off with Greg instead of letting the secret service do their jobs. And even if you can explain that, give me one fucking reason why you betrayed me by fucking Greg.” There. That elephant plopped itself down right in the center of the room.
The storm clouds radiating from those brilliant sapphire eyes certainly led me to believe Logan was close to exploding, but she held it in.
“What makes you think I fucked Greg as you so eloquently put it?”
“Well, didn’t you?”
“No.”
I glared. She glared back. Silence filled the room with its deafening roar.
Ah yes, feisty Logan had come out to play. For the first time since that fateful meeting, I let a sliver of hope shine through my despair. “Then why did you kiss him?”
Now she looked at me like I was an insect she was deciding whether to squash or set free. When her eyes opened wide, she squealed and grinned. “Oh my God. You don’t know, do you?”
“Know?”
“The plan. We—”
“What plan?”
She jumped up and refreshed her coffee. “Stop interrupting me, and I’ll tell you.”
I huffed and sat back, holding my palms up toward her.
“Remember when Cliff had me on the phone at Judy’s? Cliff said they were desperate to transfer title on some of the properties in my name and move funds. While I met with Greg at the coffee shop, they set up tracking equipment on Greg’s home computer. Cliff figured he’d go home to do the transfers because he wouldn’t want to leave a trail on the office computers. Cliff told me I had to do what it took to convince Greg that I was going along with his plan.”
“So you fucked him.” I just couldn’t seem to get that out of my head.
“I. Did. Not. Fuck. Him. What part of that don’t you understand?”
Thank God. Now that I felt better, I could sit back and enjoy the show. She was just so damned cute when she got all pissy and eye-rolly with me. But that might just be a good offense. I decided to play with her a little.
“Don’t get on your high horse with me, Ms. Archer. Why don’t you tell the jury why you kissed your husband?” I pointed my finger to the picture window overlooking the back garden. Two large cats sat on the sill looking at us with what appeared to be rapt attention.
“First of all, he’s not my husband anymore. I have a signed Complaint for Divorce and Summons to prove it.” She turned to face the pet jury. “It’s quite simple, really, but this bonehead can’t wrap his head around it. I was working with the secret service police by helping my ex-husband finish a business transaction so they would have the evidence they need to convict him. Why would I do this, you may ask?” She turned and looked directly into my eyes.
“Greg set up the man I love to take the fall and gave a complete file of evidence to the police. Without my help, the man I love would have spent twenty or thirty years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. I couldn’t let that happen.”
I cleared my throat and busied myself refilling our coffee cups. I added a generous shot of Bailey’s to mine. I held out her mug. I wanted so badly to touch her. So very badly. Not yet. I had to be sure.
“Tell us, Ms. Archer, who is this man you say you love, and why would he need your help?”
She stood, took the cups out of my hands, and put both on the coffee table. Now we stood, face-to-face, with only the width of three split hairs between us. The warmth of her breath tickled my chest before she looked up at me.
“His name is Daniel William Masterson. He needed my help because as much as he’s embraced his sensitive side, there’s more than enough testosterone pumping through his veins to make him a complete horse’s ass who has trust issues.” She let out a puff of breath smelling of coffee, toothpaste, and something wonderful and uniquely Logan. “And, I love him.”
“What about the problems you have with his lifestyle?”
She frowned, stiffened, and stepped back. My heart sank. The elephant raised its trunk and blew. She started pacing.
“Look, I know you want to be all generous, and alpha male with all this newfound money of yours, but I don’t want it.” She stopped mid loop and looked at me, wringing her hands. “Don’t you get it, Daniel? I’ve never been allowed to be independent, to make my decisions. That stops now.” She wagged her index finger at me. “If this works out, I get my bank account. You get your bank account. And I get to decide whether or not I want to work. Me. Alone. Period. We can figure out the rest together.” Her glare dared me to disagree.
I blinked a few times and gaped. She thought this was about money?
“I don’t care about your money. You can have as many bank accounts and jobs as you want. I want to know what you think about an alternative lifestyle?”
“What other lifestyle? What the hell are you talking about?”
Chapter 27
Logan
My pulse slowly returned to normal as I realized whatever bothered Daniel had nothing to do with keeping me under his thumb. I stood across the room—our library—watching one expression after another chase across his face. I stared at him trying to rea
d his rather complex mind. Clearly, something was bothering him, but it wasn’t what I thought. Another lifestyle? What the hell was he talking about? Seemingly, it was something he thought would be a deal breaker. If it wasn’t money or making me play the part of the little woman, what the hell…
The light went on, and a conflagration of embarrassment rushed through me. I busied myself lifting my coffee cup in hopes he wouldn’t notice the rather unattractive shade of purple I’m sure suffused my face. “Oh, that.” I mumbled into my cup.
Daniel took a step closer. I didn’t dare look at him.
“What did you say?”
I cleared my throat and willed myself to look at him. “I said…” Inspiration hit me. I walked past him, hoping he would follow. I detoured through his bedroom and grabbed the pillow while making my way to our hidden play room. I dropped the pillow on the floor in front of the cross. Sinking to my knees with my back to the door, I prayed he’d follow.
The next four or five minutes were an agony of anticipation and dread. What if I was wrong? What if it was something else entirely? What if he didn’t want me? What if…
Suddenly, warmth flooded through me and goosebumps sprang to life all over my body. Daniel. I bowed my head.
“What’s your safe word?”
I couldn’t help myself; a huge grin split face. Yes! This man was mine.
“Shyster.”
“I’ll give you that one, and only that one. Let’s try that again. What’s your safe word?”
“Shyster, sir.”
Those gloriously sculpted feet moved in front of me. I kept my eyes glued to the floor and tried to control my breathing. If I was already panting like some wanton hussy, what the hell would I be doing when he did something? Evidence of the level of my want and need trickled down the inside of my leg.
“Tell me, what am I to do with you, Logan?”
I had no frigging idea what to say or do. Let’s face it, I just wasn’t any good at all this femme fatale stuff. What would one of my heroines do right about now? Sound like a simpering idiot.
“I’m sorry, sir. I won’t do it again. Please don’t hurt me.” Sometimes a little simpering wasn’t a bad thing. I wiggled my ass for added effect.
“You’ll have to do better than that. Stand up.” That tone, velvet sheathing steel. Thank God. Master Daniel had finally come out to play.
He stood me against the cross. I slid my hands along the warm polished wood, grabbed the rings on either side and spread my legs.
“What exactly did you do?”
Shit. How the hell does one answer that and sound provocative?
“I kissed another man?”
Slap. The sting from Daniel’s palm felt like a tickle across my ass. I wanted more.
“You aren’t sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Swat. “Sir.”
A rush of heat followed the finger he ran down my back and through the crack of my butt. I tried to stay still, but my ass had another agenda—it strained for his touch.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“What, no!”
Two quick swats. The sting. The burn. The hunger. I pushed my ass toward the heat of his hand. I wanted more, probably more than he was willing to give. But how did I show him how much I craved this kink and more…without making him run for the hills. The depths of my desire should probably remain a well-kept secret between me and the characters in my romance novels.
“Pardon?” Daniel’s voice held a deep primal resonance with a raw edge that vibrated through my engorged pussy.
“No, sir.”
“Then why do it?”
“To drive you crazy, sir.”
His breath rushed across my ear. I arched back as threads of sensation wound their way through every erogenous spot in my body.
“And how’s that working for you?”
“Not too well, sir. I deserve my punishment, sir.” I wiggled my ass once more for good measure. His passion pulled me to him, like metal to a magnet, but no matter how far back I leaned, he stayed just out of reach. I moaned.
“Not yet, beautiful. Punishment before pleasure.”
For me, punishment was pleasure; but how to tell him that? He brushed a tendril of hair behind my ear and licked the edge of my earlobe. Oh, my God. I almost came right then and there.
“Just what should your punishment be?”
Thank God. Here was my chance to show him that his lifestyle, as he called it, was tame in comparison to my fantasies. Daniel had brought those fantasies into the realm of reality. This man made me his partner by day and sex goddess by night. I would show him that, then the rest was up to him. I leaned into the cross.
“I deserve a good spanking, sir.” I felt a little bit silly saying the words, but my ecstasy meter ratcheted up a notch.
“Hand or strap?”
Strap? A splinter of fear—or was it anticipation—flickered through me. Now Daniel tested me. Mission accomplished.
“Strap.” My voice cracked. I pushed my ass out once again to show my conviction.
The air stilled, and I knew he was no longer behind me. I resisted the urge to look and tried to calm my pulse as the blood barreled through my veins. Minutes later, I heard the slap of leather against flesh. Hot air closed around me. Daniel’s arousal turned the thread of control I’d thrown on my desire into an inferno of wanton need.
Another smack. I flinched, although nothing touched me.
“That should do it. How many strokes does your misdeed deserve?”
Enough to see how much I like. Enough to show you I’m with you in exploring the nature of my depravity.
“Twenty?” Sheesh, I sounded tentative to my ears. “Give me what you think I deserve, sir.”
That breath with its hint of cinnamon and orange juice warmed my ear making me want to suck those luscious lips between mine and—
“I think ten will suffice. What’s your safe word?
“Shyster, sir.”
“And if you want to hold the intensity?”
“Enough, sir, and green light if I want more.”
I hated pain. What the hell was wrong with me? Time enough later to dwell on the complexities of my world.
“You please me.” His voice dropped over me like a velvet blanket, warm and soothing, brushing away all my fears. He dropped a kiss on my neck, then stepped back. I shivered as I took in a deep breath waiting for the first blow.
Thawk. It stung, and the afterburn was delicious. Slap. I rested my head against the cross, bracing for more. He stepped closer, kneading my butt cheek, taking my measure. The excitement coursing through me went from zero to sixty, and I arched back into his touch. I wanted more. Did that make me—
The next four slaps came in quick succession, two on each cheek. With each stroke, my vagina clenched and heat seared through my core. My excitement dripped down my thighs. A low humming moan resonated deep in his chest as he massaged my tingling rear end.
“Where are we, Logan?”
“Green light, sir.” The fire spread through my ass, and I loved it. And being here in this house, in this room, with this man made it all okay.
Daniel didn’t hold back on the last four. I sucked in a breath and arched my back as the pain on impact blossomed into pleasure. With each stroke, my need for this man jacked up, and I showed him my love the best way I knew how. He dropped the strap.
“I don’t share.” His breath fell hot and moist on my burning flesh.
“No sharing. I’m yours.” I panted the words as I tipped my head toward him, desperate to feel his mouth on mine. He brushed his lips over mine, barely making contact… Driving me crazy. I wanted all of him—now.
He ran his hands over my body, lighting each cell he touched like a fuse making its way to the final explosion. How I craved that detonation, that eruption into the ultimate release to this man.
“Please, Daniel.” I moaned into the cross. I didn’t want him to stop. “Super green.”
He chuckled and stepp
ed away. “Not just yet, my love. We have plenty of time for that.”
I slumped, trying not to show my disappointment. He undid the restraints and turned me to face him.
He was naked. And splendid. I reached for him. He caught my wrists and held my hands behind my back.
“Do as I say, or there’ll be more where that came from.”
Promises, promises. Daniel kissed the soft spot where my neck met my shoulder, the spot that drove me wild. He stood aside and gestured toward the large platform bed taking up the corner.
Those blue eyes glimmered with love, desire, and hope. Something about the way he looked at me made me quiver. I wanted him inside me now. I reached for him again. He secured my wrists above my head. He didn’t say a word, just gave me the look that turned my will to jelly. The look that made nothing else exist in the world but pleasing him. The look that told me he was going to show me his love. His love. The look that asked me to give mine in return. At that moment, I knew what he couldn’t say.
He brushed my body with his breath, barely touching me as he covered my body as if preparing a canvas for his masterpiece. He took his time memorizing each engorged nipple with his tongue. He played my body like an artist, paying particular attention to each brush stroke. Agonizing minutes passed as I struggled to keep still, determined to match his level of control while every last somatic cell in my body screamed for release. My pump was primed.
His hands and fingers followed, uncovering erogenous zones I hadn’t known existed. He stroked and caressed and licked and nipped and kneaded every crook and crevice from my neck to my knees. He paid particular attention to my ass, stoking the fire he’d created with the strap. Dear God, but the man knew how to excite me.
There was so much to learn with this man—about him, about myself. So much to explore, together. When he slid over the hard pebble between my swollen lips, I couldn’t suppress my moan. My mind and body surged with need when he closed his hand in a tight grip, capturing my throbbing clit between my engorged nether lips.
He slipped two fingers into my drenched channel and pressed my G-spot. I shuddered with pleasure and managed to suppress the escaping moan. He slid his fingers from my cunt and danced them around my vulva, driving me positively insane with my hunger for him. I put my hand over his, trying to move his fingers to my clit. He went statue still.
Ticket to Temptation Page 24