by Shelly Bell
And he’d barely even started.
She closed her eyes and sunk into the moment, allowing herself to let go of all her thoughts and fears and just once—for research’s sake, of course—truly give her power over to another. Swaying on her feet, she trembled as Logan’s hands splayed her inner thighs, her clit throbbing and moisture slickening the folds of her pussy.
“Easy there,” he said roughly, his hands moving to her hips rather than going where she needed him the most. “You’re tipping over. Before you lie down, I want you to look at yourself in the mirror.” With a hand on her lower back, he directed her across the room. “Open your eyes, Rachel.”
Her eyes fluttered open to a vision of her reflection in the mirror hanging over the dresser. The rope crisscrossed over her breasts, creating a makeshift harness that both lifted and showcased them, her erect nipples darkened from a pink to reddish-brown. From there, the rope descended down the center of her abdomen and over the glistening dark curls of her labia, spreading them wide and exposing her wet crimson folds. It could’ve appeared crude—should have appeared crude—and yet instead, the view was highly erotic.
“You look gorgeous in my ropes,” he whispered into her ear. “And I can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”
Yeah, he wasn’t the only one.
Their gazes collided in the mirror, almost tangible electricity arcing between them. Her skin felt tight, her body on fire with need. In this moment, with her breasts and pussy on display, she’d never felt more vulnerable. More desirable. More alive.
Logan stroked his hands down her arms and turned her around to face him. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and then cradled her cheek, his lips inching their way closer and closer to hers. Her eyes closed in anticipation.
His lips brushed against her forehead before he released a sigh. “I want you on the bed.” Gripping the rope underneath her breasts, he pulled her flush against him so she could feel the steel of his covered erection pressing into her belly. “Now.”
A thin thread of uncertainty trickled into her consciousness. Why hadn’t he kissed her? If it wasn’t for the proof of his arousal, she would’ve thought he wasn’t attracted to her, but what she had felt stirring beneath his briefs left little doubt as to how she affected him physically. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, so why wouldn’t he kiss her?
The answer hovered right below the surface, but she didn’t want to think right now. Maybe Logan had done her a favor. At least now, she wouldn’t confuse their sexual intimacy as anything more than a limited beneficial agreement for them both. She’d hopefully get an orgasm, and he’d get some sleep.
He led her back to the bed, each slide of the rope against her damp skin making her shiver. Then he picked up one of the bandanas, situating it over her eyes and plunging her into darkness. “Before I gag and finish binding you, how are the ropes? Are they too tight?”
She swallowed and gave him a smile. “They’re fine. Good, I mean.”
He placed a piece of fabric in her palm and closed her fingers around it. “Remember to drop the bandana from your hand if you need to stop.” On her nod, he slipped it between her lips and tied the back of it.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, the heady rush of excitement speeding through her. She allowed him to lay her back onto the bed and manipulate her limbs into position. Ropes bound her wrists together and drew them above her head. Within a minute, her arms were immobile, most likely tied to the headboard. He spread her legs and pushed her knees up, so that her feet rested on the mattress. Then ropes circled her ankles, keeping her pussy open wide for him.
Heat unfurled in her belly, spanning outward, the anticipation of what he’d do nearly driving her insane. She clutched the bandana in her palm as if the world would end if she dropped it. Without the use of her voice to command, without the use of her eyes to direct, without the use of her hands to caress, without the use of her feet to walk away, she was free to just be. To savor the moment.
Something stroked the length of her neck. It lacked the calloused roughness that she’d felt before, so she knew it wasn’t his fingers. It took her a moment to register that it was his tongue, bathing her with its moist heat, only to have the air cooling his trail as his mouth slid lower. The contrast of hot and cold caused her body to shiver.
And then his wicked tongue laved a circular path on her breast, each pass of it coming closer and closer to her nipple until it was finally there, jolting her into a sexual frenzy of need. Her muffled moan filled the room as she unsuccessfully tried to arch her nipple farther into his mouth. The ropes held tight, preventing even the smallest of movements. She was completely at his mercy, dependent on him for her pleasure, and apparently, he wasn’t going to rush it.
Even though she couldn’t see, she closed her eyes beneath the bandana, sinking even further into the experience. Her abdominal muscles clenched as he sucked her nipple farther into the cavern of his mouth, his teeth, tongue, and lips pulling and releasing, teasing and nibbling, sending waves of bliss permeating from her breasts to her pussy, until she was almost certain she would orgasm from that alone.
It had never been like this for her before. Sure, it always felt good when a guy used his mouth on her, but it was like comparing a typical downpour of rain to a hurricane. The wet proof of her arousal dripped out of her, her legs shaking from need. He was winding her up and up and up, just from the suction of his mouth on her nipple. As if he was enjoying every second of it, he made a humming sound in the back of his throat.
She almost couldn’t stand it. Muffled pleas for more fell from her lips, her head shaking back and forth. The ache in her pussy morphed into a pulsating blaze.
He released her nipple and worked his way over to the other one, beginning the tantalizing process all over again. His tongue was like a key to the engine of her pussy, revving her up.
She tried to buck, to squirm, to ease the building tension with a clench of her thighs, but all to no avail. Her brain went fuzzy, the normal pictures and thoughts running through her mind suddenly disappearing, leaving behind only a black slate with bursts of multicolored stars.
All too soon and not soon enough, Logan began gliding down her torso, nipping her sensitive skin along the way. “Fucking responsive as hell,” he murmured. “Just as I knew you’d be. Now let’s see if you taste as good as I’ve imagined.”
Her mind repeated one word over and over.
Yes, yes, yes.
Until now, she’d never really craved a man’s mouth on her pussy.
“Ever taste yourself, Tiger?” He caressed the skin above her slit. “I bet you haven’t.” His tongue dipped into her channel, sampling her. “I’m not gonna give you bullshit about you tasting like honey or peaches or some crap like that. You don’t taste sweet. You’re like a hot exotic spice on my tongue. So I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this pussy right now and you’re just gonna lie there and take everything I give to you.”
She jerked, crying out when his fingers rubbed on each side of the hood of her clitoris. And when his lips sucked it into his mouth, her entire body bowed. Deprived of most of her senses, she indulged in the sensation of touch, hypersensitive to every ridge and bump of his rough-yet-gentle tongue as he languidly caressed her exposed bud with it. Nothing . . . nothing had ever felt so exquisite. That was until his fingers breached her entrance and slowly began pumping in and out of her. She bit down on her gag, her arms quaking from the intensity of pleasure coursing through her.
Her toes curled into the comforter as Logan continued to stroke her clit with his tongue, the stubble that had grown in on his face in the past day rubbing against her exposed folds. A fire blazed deep in her pussy, building stronger and stronger with each pass of his tongue and quickening thrust of his fingers. Dizzy and breathless, she felt as if it was whirling like a spinning top. She dangled on the precipice of climax, her muscles growing rigid before she plunged over the edge, waves of ecstasy flowing outward from her pussy to every part of h
er body.
Logan had not only delivered on his promise, he’d surpassed her expectations. She’d never come like that. Didn’t even know it was possible. What did it mean? Would she require a massage and bondage every time in order to achieve orgasm? Was she truly submissive?
The thoughts flitted through her mind before scattering away like a feather on the wind. Murmuring words of praise, Logan released the bindings on her hands and rubbed her wrists then removed the gag from her mouth. She wanted to say something to tell him she appreciated the care he’d shown her tonight. Tell him thank you.
But before she could find the right words, her mind quieted. The last thought she had was that Logan would prove more dangerous than the FBI chasing after them.
Chapter Eleven
SHE’D ACTUALLY SLEPT.
The bright sun streamed through the window blinds, hitting Rachel’s face. She stared at the digital clock, shocked it was after eight in the morning. The last thing she remembered was Logan removing the bindings from her after she’d experienced an orgasm that had made all the other ones she’d had before pale in comparison.
What did that say about her?
In her head, she knew that didn’t make her weak. She would never, ever associate that word with Kate, who was collared by Jaxon. During the day, Kate ran a successful law practice and battled for the rights of those discriminated against, but at night, she surrendered to her lover, enjoying the bite of the whip. Kate was the strongest woman she knew.
A twinge of remorse unfurled in Rachel’s chest. She wasn’t the only one who thought that about Kate. Last night, she’d ignored the fact that the man who licked greedily at her pussy was in love with her best friend, but now, in the stark light of morning, the knowledge rushed back into her like a tidal wave.
She couldn’t help feeling like second best.
It didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to happen again.
She’d promised him her submission until they cleared their names, but if all went well, they’d figure out how to do that today when they found Leopold at the port. By tonight, she might finally have the story to catapult her career to the next step—New York. It was everything she’d been working toward for the past ten years. Every long night studying in the library, every time she’d run errands for the news producer at the station, every man she’d screwed or screwed over to get the information she needed. All of it would prove worth it when she became an anchor at a big-market news station.
She’d miss her Thursday bar nights with her friends, but she had no other reason to stay in Michigan. Hell, she lived only three miles from her parents, and she never saw them or her siblings. She had few ties and no personal entanglements to complicate her life, and that’s exactly how she wanted it. No one would ever tell her how to live her life again, even a Dom as sexy as Logan.
She rolled out of bed then picked up her pants off the floor. After putting them on, she snagged a T-shirt from Logan’s go-bag and slipped it over her head, tying off the bottom edge to make it fit better. Although others might consider her high-maintenance, she didn’t require much. But clean clothes, deodorant, and a toothbrush were absolute must-haves she needed to survive this ordeal.
Swinging open the door to search out Logan, she found Walter instead waiting for her in the hall and crouched down to pet him. “Hey, boy. Want to take me to Logan?”
The dog turned and waddled away as if he understood her question. Laughing, she trailed him down the stairs, hearing voices and the clacking sound of keystrokes on a computer’s keyboard as she neared the landing.
Following the voices, she was about to step into the room, but stopped when she heard Joe mention her name.
“You and Rachel been together long?” he asked.
She held her breath, waiting for the answer, not quite knowing what she wanted to hear. She’d already made up her mind about no repeats, but she was curious how Logan would respond.
“We’re not together,” Logan said after a long pause.
“Didn’t look that way to me.”
“Before everything happened, she and I fought every time we were in the same room. Now we’re just making the best of a bad situation. Don’t read too much into it.”
Making the best of a bad situation. Last night meant nothing to Logan but a way to get her under his control and make her sleep. If she’d been a different kind of a person, someone who allowed a man to wrap his hand around her heart and crush it, she might be upset right now. But that wasn’t her. She was a realist. What Kate and Jaxon and Danielle and Cole shared was an anomaly, not the norm.
Reality was her parents. A marriage practically arranged by her grandparents. They each played their traditional roles in the marriage, but there was no passion. No spark. Her mother spent her life raising her brood of children and caring for the home. Her father owned and managed a successful jewelry store, and when he wasn’t working, he was praying. When the two were together, they were cordial and friendly, but she could tell they didn’t love each other in a romantic sense. When she was twelve, she overheard her mother crying with her aunt about a man whom she had lived next to as a child, someone outside their church who had died in a car accident that day. That was the first time she could remember her mother crying, and she realized, even at that age, that her mother had loved that man at one time. Rachel had never spoken to her mom about it, but she knew now her parents had both fulfilled their duties to their families. They made the best out of a bad situation.
Just like Logan.
Walter sat in the doorframe and barked, looking back at her as if inviting her inside and, no doubt, alerting Joe and Logan to her presence.
She flipped her hair and squared her shoulders then, with a smile, entered the room. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Logan said, not looking away from the computer screen in front of him. If his words hadn’t been clear enough for her, his reaction upon seeing her this morning certainly were.
Joe, on the other hand, greeted her with a big, knowing smile. “Help yourself to breakfast. There should be some bacon and eggs left unless your friend here gave it all to the dog,” he said, nodding at Logan.
She silently cursed the warmth spreading in her chest. “You fed Walter?”
“Yeah.” Logan didn’t stop typing as he slid her a glance. “Let him out and gave him breakfast. Didn’t want to wake you. No big deal.”
She flipped her attention to the jumble of numbers, symbols, and letters on the computer screen. “What is all that?”
“The back door to the cruise line’s passenger list,” Logan said. “First thing this morning, I pulled up the schedule of cruise ships arriving at the port today. There are four. I already broke into three other lines, but none of them had a passenger by the first or last name of Leopold.”
“Won’t the companies be able to know they were hacked? What if they trace it?”
Joe huffed out a snort. “You don’t know my boy here too well, do you? There’s nothing he can’t hack.”
“Now, that’s not true. But if I can’t hack it, I’ve got a couple friends who can.” Logan twisted around to look at her. “Don’t worry. I’m good enough to not leave a trail.”
She curled her fingers along the back of his chair. “How did you learn how to hack?”
“I’ve always been into computers. By the time I was sixteen, I could hack into just about any database. While other kids were playing football and basketball, I started my own business testing companies’ mainframes and making recommendations on how to tighten them, so they didn’t leave any holes that would allow security breaches. After I graduated, I got dual degrees in computer science and communications and put some of what I learned in the army doing military intelligence. Now I design role-playing computer games for those in the military to practice combat tactics in my spare time.”
He didn’t fit the image of what she assumed a hacker would look like. Shouldn’t he look more like Clark Kent than Superman?
&nbs
p; She raised a brow. “You’re a computer geek?”
He shrugged. “It depends on your definition of a geek. As a kid, I made enough money to buy a car and take girls out on dates. Oh, and I was homecoming king senior year of high school.” Flashing her a bright smile, he turned back to the computer screen. “Damn it, there are no Leopolds listed as passengers or employees on any of the ships.”
Her mind went to work, cataloguing the other possibilities. She itched to do her own computer research. “What if we’re wrong? What if Leopold isn’t a person? Maybe it’s a ship.”
Before he could respond, a loud siren wailed throughout the house. She froze while Joe burst into motion, grabbing keys from the desk drawer before opening a closet.
“Shit. Is that who I think it is?” Logan asked, pointing to the security screen in the corner of the room.
The monitor revealed a stream of black cars kicking up dust as they headed down the road leading to the fence. It had to be the FBI. They’d found them. But how?
“Son of a bitch,” said Joe, grabbing two bags from the closet and throwing miscellaneous items into them. “You must have led them straight here. Got a tracker on you somewhere. We’ve got two minutes tops before they create a bypass for the electric fence.”
That didn’t make sense. They’d “borrowed” Willie’s car, and there was no way that had a tracker on it. She’d done everything Logan had told her to do. She hadn’t used a phone or a computer. There was no way to trace her, and Logan sure as hell hadn’t done anything to jeopardize them either.