“You’ve answered your own question.” Scarlett swiped a finger through the wine that was now steadily dripping into the bathwater. “You want my permission to do it. Crave it. It will be better for you if you have it.”
Bending to press a damp, hot kiss to his forehead, which was beaded with sweat from the heat of the bathwater and his own restraint, Scarlett leaned back against the tiled wall and offered herself to him. “Now, Logan. Drink this wine. Use nothing more than your mouth, or you won’t like the consequences.”
Like a rubber band pulled taut, Logan snapped. Lunging forward so quickly that the water rose in a great, heated tidal wave, soaking his head as he reached for her. At the last moment, he remembered her order to use only his mouth and reluctantly laced his fingers behind his back again, then settled his mouth over her pussy.
Scarlett sighed once, long and deep, threading her fingers through Logan’s now soaking-wet hair as he slid his tongue through her folds, wishing he could use his hands to hold her open, to drive right to her very center.
He lapped at her skin, the soft mounds of her labia, the creases where her thighs met her pelvis, determined to clean her of every trace of wine.
His tongue busily stroked, up and down, up and down. Logan looked up, made eye contact. Scarlett’s gaze was locked on him as she slowly poured more wine, some stealing right into his mouth, the rest over the skin he’d just cleaned.
“Drink until I tell you to stop.” Heat and arousal were flushing her features, making wisps of her dark hair curl around her face. “Don’t waste any.”
In truth, Logan didn’t give a damn about the wine, or what it tasted like. Beneath the sweetness of the liquid was the spice that was Scarlett, and it spread over his tongue in a rush, satisfying a craving that he hadn’t known before he met her.
Licking her from front to back, Logan began to slowly circle her clit with his tongue, all the while keeping his stare fixed on her face. He wanted to absorb her reactions—wanted to know what pleased her, he realized with a jolt.
When he ran his tongue around that hard nub of engorged flesh, she inhaled sharply. Testing, he flattened his tongue, using it to lick the same area with a series of rapid, hard flicks.
She moaned, the low, deep sound like a siren’s song. The hand in his hair tugged, and his scalp stung as she pulled.
“Scarlett.” Logan rasped out her name, moved his head back and forth so that the shadow of beard on his jaw would rasp against her sensitive flesh. When he slid his tongue back into her folds, arrowing it inside her this time, her body bucked and she cried out.
Screw this. He wanted her weak, wrecked. Screaming his name. He didn’t mind breaking the rules to get her that way.
“I want you to come.” His hands found her inner thighs, then the soft, slick flesh between her legs. Using his thumbs to hold her open, he fastened his mouth on her clit and sucked.
“Oh my God!” Scarlett’s hand slid from his hair, slapped against his back, her body bucking under his mouth. “Logan!”
He smiled smugly, nipping gently at her clit, which wrenched a shriek from between her lips. One of her legs slid over his shoulder, around his neck, drawing him closer as she let her lids close over those glorious gray eyes and threw her head back, her face awash in pleasure.
She pressed her pelvis into his face, her body demanding more. Logan slid the thumbs holding her open inside of her, letting them pulse in and out in a delicious tease.
“Do you like that?” he asked, taking a moment to nip at her inner thigh. “Ah, you taste like sin. I could get addicted.”
An ungodly moan issued from her throat, and Logan felt the thigh around his neck tremble. And then she caught him by the hair again, this time pulling sharply enough to have him seeing stars.
“Shit,” he muttered, trying to nuzzle back into her heat again.
“Logan!” Her breath coming in pants, Scarlett dug her nails into his scalp, wrenching his head away from her pussy. “Stop.”
There was no ignoring the command in her voice, even as her body arched toward him, telling him the opposite of what her mouth instructed. Her breath rasped in and out of her lungs. Swearing loudly enough that the sound echoed off the tiled walls, Logan set himself back on his heels and scrubbed his hands over his face.
“Why? Fuck me, why?” His voice sounded rough even to his own ears. His need was raw, like shards of glass slicing his skin, his mind clouded with the smell, the taste of her.
Of this woman, who overwhelmed him completely.
“Because,” she started, glaring at him, and in that moment Logan understood that this wasn’t an easy task for her either—she hadn’t wanted to pull his mouth from her sex, to delay her climax.
“Because you keep trying to gain control. And that isn’t going to work, not in this kind of relationship.” Placing her bare foot flat on his chest, panting, she pushed until he leaned away from her. “But maybe you don’t actually want to be with a Mistress. Maybe that’s what your attitude is really about.”
“No!” Logan practically shouted, the truth coming from deep in his gut. The thought of vanilla sex left him cold. He wanted—needed—submission.
He’d just never imagined that he, who lived such a solitary life, would find a Mistress who cared enough to push so hard, to dig her nails into his tough outer surface and pry the softer parts out from within him.
It scared the shit out of him. But if anyone could earn his trust, he would have bet on this woman, even if that meant betting against himself.
Realizing all of this didn’t make it any easier to hold himself back. He glared at Scarlett, even as he fought the desire to suck one of her long, slender toes into his mouth.
“What do I have to do? When will you let me bring you pleasure?” His need to bring her to climax overwhelmed everything else.
Scarlett inhaled deeply, clearly trying to calm herself down. With a dark, wicked glint in her eyes, she again slid her hand down between her thighs.
Logan felt like a rabid dog on a tether, restrained by nothing more than a thin ribbon.
“You continue to pull back from true surrender by trying to control me, to control the situation.” Scarlett slid her fingers inside of the pussy that Logan knew was hot and wet. He snarled, finally reduced to nothing more than his animalistic urges.
He leaned forward again, telegraphing his intent with the tense set of his jaw.
“Don’t. Move.” Scarlett glared fiercely down at him, then began to move her fingers in and out of her hot cleft.
Logan’s body was strained to the point of pain. As he watched her begin to pleasure herself, saw the heat flush her cheeks, the words fell from his mouth like they belonged to someone else.
“What do you want me to do?” he bit out, the tips of his fingers digging into his thighs so fiercely that they left white impressions. “What can I do?”
Scarlett’s eyes whipped open, the dark gray startling in its intensity. “Ask me.”
“No.” Logan ground his teeth together. This was about more than just this moment, and he choked on the word.
“Ask me.” Pulling her fingers from inside herself, Scarlett swung the flat of her palm, connected with his cheek. Blood surged, heating the skin where the blow had struck, severing his last shred of control. He could smell her arousal, the spicy scent so unique to her, could taste her on his tongue, could feel his need coiling tight inside himself.
He couldn’t do what she wanted. The things in him that she wanted to own—if he released the lock, he’d never get that part of himself back.
He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He just couldn’t.
“No!” Lunging again, burying his face between her thighs, he fastened his lips on her clit once more and suckled with intent focus, needing to bring her to release, to bring her under his control so she would stop pushing, pushing, pushing.
Though his cock was still hard, though he hadn’t touched himself, Logan felt like his own release ripped through him as he watched Scarlett bow beneath his mouth. For one long, beautiful moment, everything became crystal clear.
Bringing her pleasure . . . serving her . . . it could bring him peace. If only he could let go.
And then her shudders quieted, and the clarity of an instant before scattered as her head snapped up, her eyes full of white-hot fury.
And Logan realized that somehow, some way, he had miscalculated. More than that . . . he had made a very big mistake.
Scarlett’s spine straightened as though she’d been shocked, and quick as a snake, she caught his cock in her hand and squeezed.
He hissed but didn’t voice a complaint. As he looked into her eyes, he felt a thread of panic begin to work its way through his gut.
He might have pushed her past a point from which they could not return.
Pulling just enough to make him wince, Scarlett put her face directly in front of his. She was furious. He could see that; but more—she was disappointed.
Shame was like a thick mass that clogged his throat.
“I’m sorry—” he started, but one more squeeze of his erection had the words choking off at his lips.
“I’m sure that you are sorry now.” There were so many emotions vibrating behind Scarlett’s words that Logan felt the stone settling in his gut grow even heavier. “But what I’m sorry for is that it took this much, that we had to go this far, for you to see how unacceptable it is to treat what we have with so much careless disregard.”
Temper flared within him. “Wait just a minute. I don’t disregard a damn thing.”
Releasing his cock, Scarlett placed her hands flat on his chest, then shoved him backward. He fell on his ass with a thud, and if there had been much water left in the tub, he would have emptied it.
Scarlett stood, and she was both beautiful and terrible, like a goddess standing on the pinnacle of a volcano.
“You want to hurt me,” she said, so softly that Logan barely heard her.
Shaking his head, he scrambled to his knees. “No, no, never.” Not at all. He wanted to worship her; he just didn’t know how.
“You do.” Calmly, Scarlett stepped out of the bath, every line of her body shouting that she was a queen and he, in that moment, her prisoner begging for mercy. “When I push you to your limits, you are supposed to use your safe word to communicate that you can’t go any further. And that is something that I will respect. But disobeying me so directly simply to take back control is unacceptable and tells me that in your very heart, you want to hurt me.”
She wasn’t listening. He had to make her listen.
Pulling himself to his feet, he looked down at her, doing his best to rein in his temper. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
He reached for her, and she thrust out one hand, palm facing him, a gesture that halted him in his tracks.
“I know that you have a hard time understanding the need inside of you, a hard time wanting what you want,” she said softly, “and I’m going to do my best to help you understand.”
Turning on her heel, gloriously, magnificently naked, Scarlett strode from the bathroom.
Confused and agitated, Logan followed her, not done arguing his point.
He stopped short when he found her bent over the bed, palms sinking into the soft quilt that covered the mattress.
“Since you’re having trouble seeing things from my point of view, we’re going to do some role-playing.” Raising her heart-shaped ass higher in the air, Scarlett pressed her cheek to the bed. “You will spank me. Ten strokes, counting out loud. And if you don’t put your back into it, you’ll start again at one.”
“No fucking way.” Logan planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t strike women.”
Scarlett lifted her head, looked into his eyes, and the depth of the understanding and the hurt he saw there nearly brought him to his knees.
“Are you using your safe word?” She wouldn’t condemn him if he did.
After what he’d just done, he owed it to her, had to give her this without fighting.
Plus . . . he knew, he just knew, that if he didn’t do this, she’d be gone.
“Fine.” He bit the word out, then went to stand behind her. Appeased, she sank her face back into the bed, arching her spine, a graceful curve that he wanted to run his lips over.
If he tried right now, she would kill him.
“Have you . . . ? Have you ever been spanked?” he asked, his voice low. Needing the contact, he dared to reach out, smooth his hand over her flank, and she sighed, the sound making her flesh quiver.
His cock hardened, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable.
“Every Domme who wants to be certified at Veritas has gone through a mentorship program. And that includes a month-long stint as a submissive.” Her voice held a hint of distaste, not, Logan understood, because she looked down on the role, but because it hadn’t suited her at all. “I know what I’m in for here, Logan. Stop procrastinating. Spank me.”
His hand slid off her skin and balled into a fist. He’d hit his share of men—had done far worse things—he’d been in the army, after all.
But the idea of hitting someone for sexual pleasure—no matter how alpha he was outside the bedroom, he just couldn’t fathom it.
There wasn’t anything he wanted to do less than lay his hands on Scarlett in this way.
He owed it to her, though. He wasn’t going to beg. He was going to man up and do it, though he still wasn’t entirely sure what her endgame was.
“Fuck. Brace yourself.” Logan lifted his hand, took a practice swing that sliced through the air. Grimaced.
No matter what she’d said, he couldn’t hit her with all of his strength. He’d hurt her.
He lifted his hand again, chewed on the inside of one cheek.
Then he let go and swung.
“One.” Crack. The slap of his palm connecting with flesh reverberated through the room. Scarlett jolted on the bed but didn’t cry out. When he snuck a peek at her face, he saw that she looked entirely calm.
For some reason, it irritated the hell out of him. Didn’t she feel anything, when his world was turning upside down?
Bracing himself, he spanked her again and again, alternating cheeks the way she had while flogging him. She continued to hold still apart from a flinch every time the blow landed, though her breathing quickened, and the skin beneath his hand heated and turned pink.
He hated the flinches, hated the marks on her skin, hated everything about the situation. His anger grew until he was furious at her for putting him in this position.
“Ten!” He shouted the last number, then sprang away from her, his palms sweating, his body shaking. “Are you happy now?”
Below him on the bed, Scarlett sucked in a deep breath, then slowly stood. As if examining what her body had just gone through, she stretched, rising high onto her toes with her arms pulled tall above her head.
And when she winced, Logan felt like scum.
“I’m not happy unless you’re happy,” she told him, turning to look him in the face. She looked deeply sad and even a little vulnerable.
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” Logan asked bitterly.
She pursed her lips. “You’re angry with me.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Logan was more than angry, he was so full of emotion that his skin felt like it was stretched too thin, unable to contain it all.
Scarlett crossed the few steps that it took to reach him and stood in front of him. Though she was close enough that he could feel the heat emanating from her skin, she made no mo
ve to touch him, to soothe him, and that told him how much he’d cracked the fragile connection that had developed between them.
“How you feel right now—that anger, that shame, that edginess? That’s how I feel whenever you refuse to let me take you where you need to go. That’s how I feel when you deliberately disobey me just for the sake of grabbing control back. That’s how I feel when I have to punish you like this.” She gestured with her arm, referring, Logan assumed, to what she’d just made him do.
His mind rejected her words. She was wrong, wrong, wrong. He didn’t make her feel like this. He couldn’t, not by just . . .
By disrespecting her in every way.
Logan was overwhelmed, agitated, felt like ants were crawling beneath his skin. He needed to get the hell out of there, but he didn’t dare move until she told him he could go.
To his utter shock, Scarlett rose up onto her tiptoes and without speaking, pressed a soft kiss to the line of his jaw.
“It doesn’t have to be this hard, you know.” Sinking back down to flat feet, she regarded him solemnly.
Logan just stared at her, overcome.
She gestured to the door, her smile more than a little sad. “Go now. I’d like to be alone.”
Clinging to the few threads of sanity that she’d left him with, Logan went.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Scarlett deliberately withheld all physical contact for an entire week. It almost killed her, especially when she saw Logan’s muscles flexing as he worked around the ranch, or when she saw his tender side toward all creatures large and small when they started doing house calls together.
But she knew that she had to impress upon him the importance, the enormity, of what was between them.
And for the sake of his pride, he needed to come to her—it had to be his choice, not an order that he felt he had to obey.
Standing beside him on the dusty floor in the busy barn of a neighboring farm, Scarlett tried to focus on threading a length of rubber hose up the nose of a mare. The toffee-colored horse rolled her eyes unhappily but was clearly too miserable to try to get away.
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