Mercifully, Mistress S didn’t push, didn’t ask him about his scar, though he could see her filing it away in her brain for future use. There was safety in that, because in the future he would be gone.
She ripped that security blanket away with her next words. “Get on your hands and knees. I’m going to get familiar with your body.”
“What?” Logan couldn’t stop the question in time.
What did that mean, exactly?
She gave him that look again—that bitchy one that said he’d better get moving. The one that made him even harder.
But beneath her bitchy tone, he sensed there was need riding her as much as it was him. Maybe that was why he did as she said, though his every sense was on alert. He fixed his eyes straight ahead—he might not have been the most obedient submissive, but he was an experienced one who knew the rules.
Closing his eyes, he simply listened as she walked back and forth, the heels of those boots that accentuated her long legs clicking on the tiled floor, lulling his thoughts into that first wave of calm that came with even the most superficial submission. The slither of silk hitting the floor, then a liquid sound—something being poured—and then more steps, growing louder, approaching him.
He fought the urge to rear up when she straddled him. The slither of silk that he’d heard had been Mistress S removing her skirt, and now he could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her panties, pressing against the small of his back.
“Why did you choose me, Logan?” As she spoke, she poured a handful of warm liquid across his shoulder blades. As it trickled over the planes of his back, it made Logan imagine arousing Mistress S to the point where she became that wet herself.
No question, this woman was getting under his skin. He couldn’t have that, no matter how much he might want it.
So he made sure that his words were cocky, a smirk on his lips as he replied, though the touch of her fingers as she spread the warm, scented oil over his skin made him want to groan with pleasure.
“You’re way hotter than that scary Domme.” He hissed as the heels of those wicked boots dug into his rib cage.
Good. He wanted her to punish him. Maybe if he goaded her enough, she would do as he’d expected—take one of the floggers from the wall, beat him until they were both sweaty and quivering with need. He could lose himself in the beautiful pain, and afterward in what he was sure would be the hottest fuck of his life.
But . . . wait. . . . She was sliding off of him, humming her disapproval. She circled him, each step slow and sure, then crouched down in front of him, grabbed his chin in her hand, and forced him to look her in the eye.
Damn, but she had beautiful eyes. Large, expressive, a beautiful stormy gray color. They were surrounded by long, thick lashes that seemed gold and caramel and ebony all at once, which told him that she wasn’t wearing any of that goop that women painted on.
He could get lost in those eyes.
But he couldn’t afford to.
She pinned him with her stare, and he felt like a cornered animal, turning wary and defensive.
“What are you looking for, Logan?” She looked like she truly wanted to know, not just to break him down, but because she was interested.
“Whatever pleases my Mistress.” The glib answer slid from his lips before he could think it through. A defense mechanism. Logan was startled at the trickle of shame that worked its way through him when she pursed her lips in disappointment.
The hint of defeat was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by grim determination. “Well, then. You’ll love this.”
• • •
Scarlett unclipped the length of chain from her corset and swiftly gathered Logan’s hands behind his back. She attached it to the buttery yellow leather cuff on one of his wrists, then the other, binding his hands behind his back.
She was glad she’d done it quickly when he reared back on his knees and looked over his shoulder at her. He was wily, and he was smart, and he’d outmaneuver her if she gave him half a chance.
It was tempting to let him do it, to grab onto the lust that hung heavy in the air, to sink into it. To let herself get burned by the electrical current of passion surging between them, because she knew it would be worth it.
Despite the temptation, she knew she would be cheating them both if she did. Plus he was starting to piss her off, though that didn’t completely detract from the need that was riding her.
Reaching for the chains on the heavy wooden bench that sat on the edge of the room, Scarlett secured the ends to the length that held Logan’s hands behind his back. Glaring at him—he was making her temper rise with his refusal to cooperate, and with it her level of arousal—Scarlett stalked across the room to where she’d dropped her toy bag.
Though vanilla sex had never really done it for her, she suspected that even without toys, any kind of joining with Logan would be off-the-charts hot. But that wasn’t what either of them had come here for.
It was damn hard for her to be the strong one, to resist, when all she wanted was to fist her hand in his hair and plunder that smart mouth.
Focus.
Slowly, purposefully, she bent down to open the bag. The four-inch heels meant she had to reach farther, but even though she wouldn’t be doing splits in the air anytime soon, she was still pretty damn flexible.
Scarlett stifled a laugh at Logan’s groan. The whole point of bending in this ridiculous way was to let him see the outline of her ass, clear enough through the lace panties that she wore.
To give him a hint of the reward he could have if he submitted.
“Mistress . . .” Logan’s voice was a rasp, and the desire she heard there made her knees weak. “Mistress, let me touch you.”
Scarlett remained silent as she pulled the two items that she wanted from her bag. Ripping open the foil package, she removed the condom, tossed the wrapper aside, then straightened back up and returned to Logan.
The sight of him, naked, bound, and at her feet, nearly brought her to her knees. He was just gorgeous, even though he was a far cry from the kind of man she’d see in a magazine. He was raw, and rough, exuding masculinity—he made her think of the outdoors, of manual labor, of sweat and hot, hot sex.
But no hot sex just yet. She had work to do, though ignoring their connection was becoming harder every minute.
“Don’t move.” Dropping to her knees in front of him, Scarlett bent and, without warning, pulled the head of his cock between her lips and began to suck, keeping her stare locked on his own.
His taste flooded her mouth, and she held back her own moan. It was addictive—she already wanted more.
She wanted it all.
“What—oh God.” Logan’s body jerked as he tried to pull away from her, then again as his hips pressed forward. Gently, Scarlett sank her teeth into the tender skin just below his corona, and he froze at the warning.
Though he held still, he couldn’t seem to keep back the noises of pleasure. Scarlett placed her full attention on her task, though she wanted to take her time, to savor the salty taste rolling around on her tongue, wanted to savor the feeling of his heat pulsing in her mouth. But she needed to bring him to the brink, as fast and hard as possible.
She never let her submissives come in her mouth. Ever—it was a rule.
But with Logan—she wanted to drink him down, wanted to possess every bit of him that she could have.
“Mistress—oh. Please. Please.” The sudden hitch in his breath told Scarlett that he was on the verge of coming.
He cursed, long and loud, when she forced herself to slide her mouth off his cock and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. His taste remained on her tongue, teasing her as she quickly rolled the condom down the impossibly hard length.
“I didn’t take you for a cock tease.” Logan glared at her, his skin flushed, his jaw clenched.
When he swore again, she stood, then bent and tucked a finger beneath his chin. His eyes spat fire as she tilted his face up, causing her pulse rate to accelerate, but she was pleased that, despite his rage, he didn’t pull at his bindings.
“We’re going to take a little break now,” she told him softly, arching her back to give him a good view down the front of her corset. A strangled sound emanated from his throat.
“I don’t need a break,” he replied mulishly, not bothering to hide the hungry gaze that devoured her ample cleavage. “I can take anything you give me.”
“I hope so.” Scarlett took one step backward, then another. Oh, it was hard to walk away from him, even though she knew she would come back.
“I’ll be back once you’ve had some time to think.”
• • •
The woman had left him chained to a bench, slick with oil, with a boner that, thanks to the cock ring, couldn’t recede.
He shouted after her, ground his teeth, and raged inside his own head, and then Logan sat back on his heels, stunned.
Mistress S might look all sweetness and light, but he’d never met a dominant woman with such iron balls. He admired it—and desired it.
She was everything that those hopes he’d shoved down deep inside him long ago—the ones he’d had before he’d ever gone overseas—had hungered for all these years.
It made him want badly to please her. And in that moment, with need and confusion clogging his mind, she could have demanded more of him than he’d ever given, and he would have had no choice but to respond.
Despite his best efforts, he responded to everything about her, body and soul.
Silently, he knelt, refusing to even shift his weight from knee to knee to relieve the pressure. She would come back—he trusted that. Any Domme worth her salt would never have left him truly alone but would have stayed close by, monitoring the scene from the screen on the wall outside the private room, the one that could be accessed only by a temporary code that belonged to whoever had reserved the room for the night.
This Domme radiated confidence, power, knowledge. She wouldn’t be far. He just had to wait her out.
He whipped his head around when the door opened. A sudden, overwhelming sense of relief washed over him when she stepped back inside the room, her lips curled into an impish smile, a glass of red wine in her hand.
Man, but she was beautiful.
He opened his mouth—to say what, he wasn’t sure—and then he saw the reason for her smile.
A male submissive walked behind Mistress, his gaze on the floor as was proper, his posture unassuming.
His very proper submissive manners didn’t mask what even Logan could tell were classically handsome looks, a body maintained from something besides workouts at the gym, and an expression of peace at being under a Mistress’s command.
Panic welled inside of Logan, something he’d never before felt when in the middle of a scene.
“What the fuck is this?” He growled, and for the first time, he pulled at his chains, pride be damned. He wanted to get free, needed to get to her, needed her to accept him before she decided on this other sub.
“I’ll serve you. I’ll do whatever you want.” Logan didn’t even care that the desperation was evident in his voice.
She was his, damn it. He could serve her better than some clean-cut kid ever could. And that damn kid didn’t even have the decency to look smug.
Mistress S led the other sub halfway into the room, close enough that Logan could see everything clearly, but far enough away that he craved her heat. “I thought you said that you would do whatever pleases me, Logan.”
With a gentle hand, she pushed the shoulder of the other sub down to his knees, then pulled a plush velvet chair over beside the other man’s still form.
“I’ll eat your pussy. I’ll make you scream.” Logan’s voice was a growl, accompanied by the metallic clank of his chains.
She regarded him calmly before sinking regally down into the chair, but even through the red haze of his anger, he could see the emotions she was trying to keep from him.
He’d pissed her off, and because she felt the same desperate need that he did, she was pushing him.
She crossed one leg over the other, the move both wanton and prim. Logan fought back a shout.
“On your hands and knees, Bren. Make your back as flat as possible.” The other man didn’t even blink at the strange request, assuming the position with more grace than he looked capable of.
Logan bared his teeth when his Mistress set her glass of wine down carefully on the back of the other man—Bren.
Bren’s muscles quivered when the glass came to rest on the hard planes of his back. Mistress S murmured with approval, and Logan didn’t have to guess why—he would have had to be blind not to notice and grudgingly appreciate the way the other man controlled himself, made himself perfectly still.
Didn’t mean he liked it. No, he didn’t like it at all. Furious, and yet still aroused, he clenched his jaw shut and sat back on his heels, trying to rein in his temper.
“It pleases me to have a sub willing to serve me, Logan. They don’t have to do it perfectly . . . but they do have to try.” As she spoke, Mistress S nudged Bren’s rib cage with the heel of her boot. He moved under the touch, just the slightest bit, but it was enough to send a small wave of red wine over the edge of the glass.
Mistress S looked directly at Logan as she picked up her glass, and he felt as though she could see straight through him.
He wanted her, more even than he wanted to go back home.
“I am happy to reward a sub for trying, even if mistakes are made. But I require an honest effort.” Her eyes sparked, the color of banked coals before they burst into flame. Returning the heel of her boot to Bren’s side, she whispered something to him, pressing her shoe into his flesh to guide him until he faced her, still on hands and knees.
A sense of foreboding washed over Logan when he realized that this brought the other sub’s face at a level with Mistress S’s pussy. His temper flaring, he pulled at his chains, snarling at the resistance of being bound.
He would be the one to bring her pleasure, to taste her sweetness. Him and no one else.
“Be still,” Mistress S snapped; it was the first time she had raised her voice to him. He heard her own frustration in the words. “Bren has done as I asked. He deserves a reward.”
Logan wanted to shout when she dipped her fingers into the glass of wine, then painted them over the creamy expanse of her inner thigh. She repeated the gesture on the other leg, and he watched, riveted, as the ruby-colored liquid rolled over the smooth skin.
He was suddenly parched, and those trickles of wine were the only thing that could quench his thirst.
“Are you thirsty, Bren?” Her voice was soft, intimate. Logan could have killed the other man for being on the receiving end of the exchange.
“Yes, Mistress.” Bren was infuriating. Even now, even with the Domme’s pussy inches from his mouth, he kept his eyes focused on the floor, the picture of self-control.
But the other man wore only black shorts. His erection pressed against the snug fabric, demonstrating just how affected he was by the beautiful brunette whose legs framed his face.
“Have a drink, then.” Mistress S shifted her hips to the edge of the chair, closing her legs slightly, which brought the spilled wine within reach of Bren’s mouth.
“Thank you, Mistress,” the other man said solemnly before inclining his head . . . and swiping his tongue over the woman’s skin.
“Damn it. Mistress. Let me do it. I want to do it.” Lo
gan pulled at the chains, his mouth dry with need. He could do it—he could do more than lick wine from her thighs. He could bring her more pleasure than she’d ever known, because he wanted her more than she’d ever been wanted before. He was sure of it.
“You know your choices, Logan.” His Mistress’s voice was slightly breathy—she wasn’t unaffected by the tongue working slowly, purposefully on her skin, even though Bren was doing as he was told and licking only her legs.
Or maybe, he realized as her eyes met his, maybe she was affected because of him, because he was watching. Just as he was affected by her.
“You may use your safe word. Or you may do as I wish you to,” Mistress S managed.
That safe word was on the tip of his tongue—he couldn’t let her do this. Wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t stand to watch another man touch her.
But he understood the lesson she was teaching him. This would go her way, or it wouldn’t go at all.
If any other Mistress had tried this with him, he . . . Actually, he wasn’t sure what he would have done. No other Mistress had been so determined to work past his skilled deflections before.
Was this one worth it?
As he watched her head tip back, watched the low lights bounce off her dark hair and the flush of pleasure paint her skin, he knew that no matter how much it troubled him to give in, the second she had stumbled into his arms, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything else.
Though his brain still screamed, Mine, mine, mine, he inhaled, then exhaled, then forced himself to again sit back. His body was still a long, tense line, but Mistress S smiled at him with approval.
“Thank you, Bren.” Placing her hand on the other man’s chin, the Domme urged his face up and smiled at him. “I’m very pleased with you. You may go find Master Luca. I believe he has found you a Mistress to play with for the night.”
“Anything for you, Mistress.” Bren smiled, though Logan saw the disappointment in the expression, then nodded, rising gracefully to leave the room. Logan followed him with his eyes and saw the slight tension in the other man’s shoulders.
Linger Page 4