by Shelly Bell
“Oh, God. Fuck me, you taste sweet,” he said between licks.
Her eyelids began to close, but she forced them to remain open, not wanting to miss a moment of watching this dominant man eat her pussy as if she were a delicacy. Hot liquid pleasure flowed outward from her core as he stroked her bundle of nerves with his tongue.
She reached for climax, but despite the winding tension building between her thighs, her mind continued to throw up roadblocks, preventing her from truly surrendering. Maybe she should fake it as she had with some of the others. Clearly by his demonstration the other night, it wasn’t Logan’s fault if she couldn’t climax.
He lifted his mouth from her pussy and glared at her. “I can tell I lost you, Tiger. Guess I need to remind you who holds the control right now.” He slid two thick fingers into her slick channel and curled them upward. “You ever had a man play with your G-spot, baby?”
She shook her head. G-spots were a myth like Santa Claus and happy marriages. At least when it came to her. A few guys had tried to find it, but apparently she didn’t have one.
Logan shifted his fingers a touch and smiled, his cock lengthening against his thigh. “Ah, there it is.”
His fingers tapped a spot inside her. A bolt of lightning electrified her cunt, and her body thundered in response, shaking uncontrollably. “No, no.” The foreign sensation was too intense.
He tsked at her, increasing the rate of the tapping. “You don’t say no to me. I want you to come this way, and unless you say the safe word, you’re gonna do it. Don’t analyze it. Just feel it. I’m getting hard again just from the feel of your pussy walls tightening around my fingers. You’re so slick. So hot. Gonna feel like heaven on my cock.”
Her hands gripped the seat. She couldn’t catch her breath. “Logan?”
“I’m here,” he said reassuringly. “You’re safe. I’ll catch you when you fall.”
She didn’t hold back. She closed her eyes, sinking into the sensation and surrendering to it and to Logan. Her legs trembled violently and a scream ripped from her throat as the orgasm slammed into her, over her, and through her like a tidal wave taking along everything in its path. The most intensely pleasurable contractions she’d ever experienced rolled through her body until they slowly died down, leaving her boneless and replete.
After a few minutes, she got the energy to open her eyes. Logan was already dressed and had thrown a warm blanket over her. Sitting beside her, he held out a bottle of water. “Drink.”
Common sense returned as she took in her surroundings. They were on an airplane with the captain behind closed doors only feet away. There was no way he missed her scream or the reason for it.
She took the water, refusing to look at Logan. For some reason, the blanket and the water annoyed her. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because it was proof that she’d given up control for a few minutes. Or maybe it was from that sub drop she’d read about, the temporary depression that sometimes followed a scene when the endorphins decreased. Either way, she just wanted to get dressed and forget it happened. “I’m fine. You don’t have to give me aftercare.”
He toyed with strands of her hair, sliding them through his fingers. “Aftercare isn’t just for the bottom. Maybe I need it too.”
She turned her face toward him. “I’m not comfortable with it. Please, Logan.”
“That’s because you’re thinking again. Eventually, you’re gonna trust me enough to do the thinking for you in other times except sex.”
She jumped out of her seat and picked up her pants off the floor. “Just because you gave me a couple orgasms doesn’t mean I’m going to let you control me outside of sex. It’s never gonna happen.”
Stepping into her pants, she choked on her disappointment. She’d thought maybe Logan might be different from other men.
Logan didn’t argue, just cocked a brow and let her stew in her anger. The rage she’d been feeling quickly dissipated, leaving behind only exhaustion. She plopped down in the seat next to him, and when he patted his shoulder, she accepted his offer to rest her head on it.
She tried to fall asleep, but she couldn’t keep her thoughts from racing. What would happen when they got to Las Vegas? How would they stop Evans and Fink from releasing the virus? He caressed his hand down her head, playing with her hair. “How’d you sleep last night?”
“Fine,” she said, lying.
While Logan had made plans for their flight to Vegas, she’d taken a shower. After running around for two days, it was heavenly to wash the grime, dirt, and sweat from her body. She had never appreciated deodorant, toothpaste, and razors until she went without. She must have spent an hour in the bathroom cleaning and shaving. She’d hoped Logan would’ve joined her, but he’d taken his shower after she finished, taking nearly as much time in the bathroom as she had, shaving the light beard that had grown in over the course of the two days.
Both of them exhausted, they’d climbed into bed before nine o’clock. With his leg thrown over hers and his hand possessively placed on her stomach, he’d held her all night. But while he’d easily fallen into a deep slumber, she’d found sleep elusive, too worried about what would happen in Vegas.
Logan chuckled. “You didn’t sleep at all, did you? We’ve got a few hours until we get to Vegas. Go to sleep. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
Eyes closed, she felt his lips press against her forehead.
She knew he meant his promise to keep her safe.
Too bad he couldn’t honor that promise. Because the more she trusted him, the more she depended on him, the harder she fell for him. But as he’d told her, he craved control. And ultimately, she couldn’t give that to him. She wasn’t a submissive. Retaining control was just as important to her.
What she couldn’t say, what he didn’t realize, was no one was more dangerous to her well-being than him.
Because he was the only one with the real power to break her.
Chapter Sixteen
SHE’D SLEPT.
Again.
She had to hand it to Logan. He’d not only learned how to play her body as if it were his own personal instrument, he’d become her favorite kind of sleeping pill.
They’d landed in the backyard of Sawyer Hayes’s mansion, which was located outside the Las Vegas city limits, only a half-hour drive from the Vegas Strip. According to Logan, the man had homes all over the country, each equipped with its own landing strip since he traveled frequently on business. But unlike the lush tropical backdrop of Florida, this yard had red mountains as its scenery. Instead of grass, his desert yard comprised dirt and rocks. And yet it was equally as beautiful, the swimming pool a desert oasis lined by palm trees and cacti.
If she’d thought it was hot in Florida, it was only because she’d never been to Vegas. As soon as they’d deplaned, her throat had gone bone-dry. It was like walking into a sauna fully clothed.
She’d never been to Sin City. She’d seen photos, of course, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the awe of the city’s impressive skyline nestled between majestic red mountains.
Rather than having gone inside Sawyer’s home, they were whisked away by a stretch limo. Along the ride she stared out the window, taking in the sight of all the city’s hotels, shops, and restaurants.
After salivating from the thought of tacos, burgers, and steaks, she was thankful to find Sawyer had thoughtfully provided a full meal for them to eat in the car. As she feasted on chicken Caesar salad and French bread, the limo drove down the highway, leaving the Las Vegas city limits and the Strip’s skyline behind them.
When she’d asked Logan where they were headed, he’d only told her they’d be staying somewhere safe. She supposed it didn’t matter anyway since she didn’t know one place from another in Nevada. As long as they had access to computers and could figure out a way to stop Evans and Fink from carrying out their plan, she didn’t care where they stayed. Her fingers twitched with the urge to feel the keyboard under them. Two days without the Internet
was long enough. It was time for her to do what she did best.
Expose the truth.
An hour after they landed, they drove up to the Paradise Lost Hotel. The sign seemed a bit understated for what she’d expect of a Nevada hotel, lacking the neon lights and pizzazz of those found on the strip. The two-level hotel was a dingy white brick building with a working fountain in front. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but she was sure if the wealthy Sawyer had set them up here, it couldn’t be as bad as the place they’d stayed at in Florida.
The driver opened the door and she slid out of the limo. She held a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sudden light.
With the duffle Joe had given them, Logan wordlessly sidled up beside her as the door opened and Sawyer Hayes appeared.
He was just as handsome as she remembered. His blond hair fell in soft waves to just above his shoulders, and his eyes were a piercing shade of jade. The youthful innocence of his face had disappeared in the decade since she’d last seen him on television, and deep laugh lines were etched around his eyes and the corners of his lips. The few days’ worth of stubble on his chin failed to hide his dimple. In his torn jeans and a simple navy T-shirt, it would be impossible to guess his net worth by his clothes.
The nondescript lobby of the hotel was decorated in beige and crème with a Berber carpet and aerial photos of the Vegas strip. She found it odd that the front desk had two computers but no people working behind it. The place was strangely quiet, as if they were the only people here. Maybe business wasn’t doing that well and that’s why Sawyer had chosen this location as their hideout.
Smiling wildly, Sawyer shook Logan’s hand and gave him one of those typical guy half hugs while pounding his back. “Good to see you, man. Even if it’s because you’re on the run from the Feds. You never do things easy, do you? I remember that one time you got caught with those twins—”
“Sawyer, this is Rachel,” Logan said, efficiently and thankfully cutting him off before he could expound on his trip down memory lane.
Sawyer took her hand and kissed the top of it. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Rachel, but it is a pleasure nonetheless.”
Even though she didn’t buy his suave act for a second, she was still affected by his flirtation and felt her cheeks heat with a blush. “Thank you.”
He released her hand. “If you’d like to join me downstairs tonight, I’d be happy to find some appropriate clothes for you to wear.” He lowered his voice, raising his eyebrows. “Unless you prefer to wear nothing at all.”
Was Sawyer still flirting, or was she missing something? “I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand.”
“You didn’t tell her?” Sawyer asked Logan, shaking his head.
Logan shot Sawyer a deadly look before turning to her. “The Paradise Lost Hotel isn’t actually a hotel. It’s a sex club.”
“We’re staying at a sex club?” she asked shrilly. “Like Benediction?”
Was everyone into the lifestyle these days?
“Tell me you’re a submissive,” Sawyer begged, taking a step closer to her. “My cock will wilt in disappointment if you’re a Domme.”
“Hands off,” Logan said, practically growling as he yanked her under his arm. “Keep them and your damned cock away from Rachel.”
Sawyer threw up his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t know she belonged to you.”
“I don’t,” she said, neither of them listening.
Logan’s eyes flashed a warning. “Well, now you do.”
Shocked, she peered up at him, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. Sure, he’d agreed to figuratively and literally show her the ropes of BDSM for as long as they were on the run, but since when did she belong to him?
“It’s not like you to be so territorial,” Sawyer said, his lips tipped up in a grin. “You used to share your toys.”
“I’m no one’s toy,” she declared with her hands on her hips, although neither of the men seemed to hear her. They were acting like cavemen. She half expected Logan to beat his chest and drag her by her hair to his cave.
Coming from anyone else, she would’ve been offended and given him a piece of her mind, but with Logan, she was oddly aroused by his display of ownership. It reminded her of how Cole treated Danielle and how Jaxon behaved with Kate. Logan was acting as if he was her Dom, and rather than anger her, it made her feel secure. She wanted to belong to him. Did that mean she wasn’t only submissive in bed, but in other aspects of her life? How could she be submissive and, at the same time, want to be in control?
She frowned. And what did Sawyer mean about sharing toys?
Heat unfurled in her belly. She had a feeling they weren’t talking about Legos.
She followed Sawyer and Logan down a hallway of what would normally be hotel guest rooms. Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled as they passed a vending machine filled with chocolate bars and bags of chips. Even though she’d eaten in the limo, she had a couple of days of calories to make up for, and she didn’t plan on doing it with steamed vegetables and broiled fish.
When they reached room number 109, Sawyer swiped a key card through the reader on the door and then handed a card to both of them before opening the door and ushering them inside. “The guys are on their way. We’ve all been waiting for your call.”
Whatever expense Sawyer had saved on the exterior of the hotel and the lobby obviously went into the bedrooms. Everything about the room screamed “luxury.” Here the crème-colored carpet was thick and lush, and the walls were painted a light gold. The mahogany king-sized, four-poster bed had one of those gauzy canopies hanging over the top of it, and it was covered with a gold-and-crimson brocade comforter and throw pillow. A crimson cushioned bench sat at the foot of the bed.
After spending one night in a car and two in less refined bedrooms, she could definitely get used to it here.
“Knew I could count on you,” Logan said, dropping the duffle on the bed.
“The guys?” she asked, confused.
“Our friends Oz, Hunter, and Rowan,” Logan clarified.
Sawyer leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. “Yeah, well, not so easy with the Feds on your asses, but Oz created credible stories and the appropriate backup trail to throw them off their scent. He made it look as though we were meeting you at Mount Rushmore in South Dakota.”
She sat down at the bottom of the mattress and practically moaned at its softness. “That’ll help thwart the FBI, but Evans and Fink will be looking for us in Vegas.”
Sawyer smiled. “Not here, though. There’s nothing tying me to this place.” He pushed off the frame of the doorway and straightened. “There’s food in the mini-fridge and everything in the vending machine is free, so help yourselves. I bought you each a few days’ worth of clothes and already put them away in the dresser.” He pointed to a closed door across the room. “You can find toiletries in the bathroom, so feel welcome to take a shower.”
Clean clothes and a shower that didn’t have mold growing in it sounded like heaven right now.
Sawyer checked his watch. “I’ll call you when the guys get here, and we can figure out your next move.”
Logan strode to Sawyer and shook his hand. “Thanks again for sticking your neck out for us.”
Sawyer nodded, smacking Logan’s shoulder. “My club, Paradise Found, opens at nine downstairs. There’s a separate entrance at the back that leads directly to it, so if you choose to remain up here, you’ll have all the privacy you need so long as you stay in your room. The others will be . . . occupied during club hours.” He turned, his gaze lasering in on her. “And Ms. Dawson, I do hope I’ll get the pleasure of your company in the club tonight. If you’re worried about being recognized, you’re welcome to wear a mask. We don’t have the same exclusive requirements that you find at Benediction. For thirty-five dollars and a waiver, you get entry into the club for the night. For that reason, several of our guests choose to wear masks to maintain an
onymity.” He tipped his chin and shut the door behind him as he left.
With him gone, she felt as if she could breathe again. Despite his flirty demeanor, there was an underlying intensity that seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room.
She and Logan had plenty to discuss, but right now she had only one thing on her mind. “What did Sawyer mean about sharing your toys?”
From across the room, Logan winced, his body growing rigid before he blew out a breath. “The guys and I used to share women.”
Her stomach flip-flopped and her skin grew tight. The guys. As in plural. “Share? You mean you’d all have sex with one woman? At the same time?”
Maybe to buy him some time before answering, he pulled some men’s clothes out of a drawer before turning around to answer. “Usually only two of us, but yeah.” He brought his clothes over the bed and sat next to her. “Does that bother you?”
Bother her? She guessed that depended on his definition of bother. Because she was bothered, all right. Hot and bothered. Her body flushed with arousal, her heart racing and her pussy growing wet. She didn’t want to think about Logan and other women like that, but her body was totally on board with her in the middle of Logan and another man.
Still, she played it cool, uncomfortable by her body’s reaction to the idea. “No, not at all. Maybe it should, but my friendships with some of the kinkier women of Detroit have enlightened me about sexual relationships.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Safe, sane, consensual. As long as all parties agree and no one is harmed, it’s none of my business what people do to get off. And that includes you.”
Her comments were rational and mature, and her voice hadn’t cracked once. There was no way he’d guess the storm of arousal raging inside her at the moment. She took a breath and smiled. “So, I understand guys like the idea of having sex with two women, but what do you get out of sharing? Are you bisexual?” Because the mental picture of a naked Logan and another man kissing and touching each other was almost as good as the one with her in the middle of it.