Linger

by Lauren Jameson

  Quickly, she unbound the gag, massaged his cheeks, and took away the squeaky toy, giving him back the power of speech. And just that simple gesture had Logan clawing to regain control.

  “If I wasn’t gagged, I could do better things with my mouth.” He was mad, she knew, mad that she’d forced that orgasm from him without any way for him to stop it without resorting to that toy, mad that she was forcing him to confront how he felt.

  Well, he was about to get madder yet.

  “Watch your mouth or I’ll gag you again.” To show him what she thought of his smart-assed comment, she inched the short, tight skirt of her dress up to her hips, then hooked her fingers in the elastic at the edges of her red lace thong. Logan’s mouth fell open when she tugged the brief garment down, letting him have only the quickest of looks at her bare pussy.

  “You fight dirty.” It wasn’t the first time he’d said that to her. Scarlett smiled wickedly, then tossed her thong into Bren’s lap, where he was wrapped in a blanket, leaning against Luca on the couch.

  “Thank you, Mistress Scarlett.” Bren dangled the thong from one finger, deliberately taunting Logan. Luca halfheartedly cuffed him on the ear as Logan snarled.

  “I’ll fight dirtier yet,” Scarlett said, pulling a long vibrator from her bag.

  “No way in hell are you putting that anywhere near my ass,” Logan spat out. Where minutes earlier he had seemed on the verge of surrender, he now seemed to have taken a huge step backward.

  “Well, it’s certainly not going in mine.” This time using her regular lubricant, Scarlett ran her hands over Logan’s chest, his hips, as she circled the bondage table.

  A muffled snort of laughter sounded from the direction of the couch, but Scarlett barely heard it.

  Her focus was on Logan—entirely on Logan. It was do or die—time to master him or let him go.

  “What do you want from me?” The panic came out heavier now, weighing down Logan’s words. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “I want more than that.” Flicking the switch to turn the vibrator on, Scarlett pressed the tip right where her fingers had just been. “I want all of you.”

  She wanted him to the point that he could give no more, wanted all of him, and tonight, she thought with a fresh wash of determination, she was going to take him there.

  “Scarlett. No! Fuck it. No—oh!” Logan shouted as Scarlett firmly pressed the vibrator forward, working it through the ring of muscle, then pressing it home. He shuddered at the onslaught of sensation, his muscles pulling it in farther still.

  “I want to have you inside of me, to possess you in every way.” Scarlett’s body had grown slick with sweat, her own nerves humming as she moved the vibrator in and out, watching Logan’s erection rise anew before her eyes.

  Her clit swelled and pulsed, and her blood sizzled in her veins. It likely would never cross Logan’s mind that this was torture for her, too—that while she might be forcing pleasure from him, her equal punishment was one of denial.

  “Then fucking take me already.” Logan’s voice rumbled from his throat. “Stop punishing me for not giving something I don’t know how to give.”

  “I’d take you if I believed that that was true. It’s killing me, I want you so much.” In, out. In, out. Scarlett let the vibrator drag slowly when she pulled it out, before making it slide quickly back in, savoring the rasp of his breath, the swell of his cock when he again began to draw near to coming.

  “But I believe that you can give everything. And you will. You’ll give it to me.” Securing the vibrator in one hand—she could feel the rapid contractions of his muscles reverberating all the way up her arm—Scarlett slid the other arm to Logan’s front, pinching his nipple hard before sliding her hand down, encircling the steel length of him with her fingers.

  “You’re going to come again for me, Logan.” She began to stroke him, moving her hand up and down with firm, sure strokes. His erection jerked heavily against her palm, and it caused her pussy to flood with her own wetness.

  “I can’t.” But his head was thrown back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he rode the pleasure.

  “You can. I want you weak, wrecked.” Rubbing her thumb over the head, she pulled hard, rough. “Now.”

  Logan shouted again as he came, and this time his cry was distinctly more animal sounding. His hips again bucked at the air, searching for her, Scarlett knew, but she remained where she was behind him, holding the thick length of the vibrator inside him as he climaxed again.

  “No more, Scarlett. I can’t.”

  Scarlett held him as he sagged back against her, checking that he hadn’t damaged the skin beneath his bonds. Taking another wet cloth in hand, Scarlett again cleaned the evidence of his pleasure from his skin, letting him take her silence for assent.

  But when she knelt in front of him and caught his stare with her own, feeling the jolt of that connection between them, she slowly drew her fingers into the straps of her dress, tugging them down over her shoulders. Her nipples peaked when the cool air hit them, the sensation frigid against the burning heat of her skin.

  Logan licked his dry lips, then looked down at her like she was the only woman in the world.

  “Please, Scarlett,” he begged, shifting restlessly on the bench. “Please. Let me touch you. Let me make you feel good. Let me inside you. I’m begging.”

  Begging, and yet she thought that he still might try to wrest control from her the second she released his bonds.

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  “You can give me more.” Distant sounds told her that Bren and Luca had set up another scene, but she didn’t care—she couldn’t.

  The world had narrowed until it contained nothing more than her and Logan. She had him on the very edge of capitulation, and she prayed that she had the sheer will to bring him the rest of the way.

  That what was growing between them was strong enough.

  She swallowed his protest down as she parted her lips and took his cock into her mouth. Above her, Logan gasped, and when she began to slowly stroke her tongue along the length of him, she tasted sweat and sex before she felt him start to stiffen again for an impossible third time.

  She knew there were Mistresses—and Masters—who would never dream of kneeling at their subs’ feet.

  Scarlett had never believed that true power came from the rules alone, though they certainly had their place as ways of breaking a submissive down.

  But when a person was truly the Mistress of another . . .

  It didn’t matter if they stood tall over the other or knelt at their feet. And so she chose to give him this gift, a way to unravel her beautiful submissive further still.

  “No.” Logan’s voice sounded in air that was thick with lust when Scarlett began to suck harder, hollowing her cheeks, pulling until he was again fully erect in her mouth. “I said no!” He snarled at her, his body beginning to recoil; then he pushed forward, his hips pressing his cock deeper into her mouth with every thrust.

  Adrenaline poured into Scarlett’s veins in a liquid rush as she watched the man above her—the intelligent, amazing, stubborn as all fucking hell man—transform from an intelligent being to one that was more animal than man. His body tensed, writhed, his movements both begging her for more and screaming at her to stop.

  Twining her hands around the base of his shaft, she twisted them in alternate directions as she worked him with her mouth. This—this was where she’d been trying to get him, the point at which his mind stopped working and what he truly wanted, truly needed took over.

  He spoke, a never-ending stream of desperate words that made no coherent sense as a flood of precome released onto Scarlett’s tongue, and she felt dizzy, knowing that it was because of desire for her that he had been reduced to this mindless animal.

  When he began to buck in earnest, driven past the point of control, the bench ski
dded forward, stopped, then moved again. Scarlett gagged as his cock hit the back of her throat, but she continued to press forward, working him with her mouth, knowing how close he was to so much more than mere physical release.

  “No!” Logan howled, and Scarlett let her fingers slide to his hips. Digging in firmly with her fingers, she held tight, keeping him in the wet cavern of her mouth as he cried out an ungodly sound and shattered.

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and her jaw ached as she rode his bucking body. But though he thrust, and thrust again, no liquid flooded her mouth, his climax expressed solely through the shudders of his body.

  Making a humming noise, she held tight as he thrust furiously into her mouth, wilted back against the bench, only to be overcome by a series of shudders once again.

  When he finally stilled, Scarlett remained frozen in place for a long moment before she leaned back and let his cock fall from her mouth. Her knees ached and her eyes were full of tears, but as she looked up at Logan and saw the uncharacteristic laxity of his facial muscles as he inhaled, she wondered if she had done it. Or if maybe she had gone too far.

  “Shh,” she whispered as she stood stiffly, securing the top of her dress in place once again. Her own fingers were shaking from the raw intensity of what had just happened and from second-guessing herself as she undid the fastenings that held Logan to the bench. He slumped back, his muscles seeming too weak to even support himself upright.

  “You did well,” she whispered as she brushed a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes—eyes that were wide and filled with the wonder of a child. And he had. She could tell he was cruising very close to subspace, that wonderful headspace that came with the rush of endorphins after an intense scene—a place she was fairly certain no Domme had ever been able to take him.

  But she’d pushed him there, had taken him to the edge of her own limits, and still he hadn’t used his safe word. Hadn’t faced the demons in his soul.

  She had failed him. She wasn’t strong enough for him.

  “Scarlett,” Logan whispered hoarsely as the last of the bonds fell away. For her own pleasure, and more, to bring herself some calm, Scarlett ran her hands over Logan’s chest, the lines of his hip bones, down the length of his cock.

  She avoided his eyes.

  “Scarlett.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest when Logan tangled his fingers in her own and brought their entwined hands to rest on his chest. Beneath her palm she felt the quick, steady thump, thump, thump of his heart.

  Logan lowered his head until their foreheads pressed together. Scarlett felt her pulse skitter in her veins when those blue eyes of his looked directly into hers, the shutters deep within them finally gone.

  “Bunker,” he whispered hoarsely. “Red.”

  • • •

  The rhythmic thumping of Luca’s flogger as it struck the skin of Bren’s back echoed up the stairs as Scarlett helped Logan to his bedroom.

  Earlier this evening he’d been ready to flay his friend alive for coming into his home and treating him like a submissive. But now he saw that he should thank him.

  Not that he would. Or else maybe later. Right now his legs were so weak that he was having enough trouble walking.

  He was so exhausted it hurt. That was why, he assured himself, he made no protest when Scarlett led him to the bed, pulled back the worn quilt, and then tucked it back in around his naked body.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she said softly, and though her demeanor radiated calm, in the depths of those wide eyes of hers, he could see the same shock that reverberated through him.

  Later he would welcome some time alone, to think about what had happened. But for now . . .

  For now his body, his soul accepted what his brain would have trouble with later—that he had finally, completely surrendered.

  Before panic could set in, Logan followed his impulse and slid from the bed. For a brief moment he thought about trying to join Scarlett in the shower, and he was swayed both by the thought of her naked in the shower, water streaming over her breasts, and by the temptation of getting clean, of rinsing all the frustration and fear and anger down the drain. A baptism, kind of.

  A really kinky one.

  But in the end, he followed the urge that had pulled him from bed in the first place.

  Padding across the hardwood, Logan chose a place at the end of the bed and knelt on the floor. Arranging his hands palm-side up against his thighs, he sat back on his heels and waited.

  When Scarlett came out of the bathroom, followed by a cloud of steam, he sensed her pause rather than saw it, because his stare was trained on the ground.

  And then her bare feet were in front of him. He could just make out her shapely calves, and the smell of his own soap was teasing at the inside of his nose.

  “Logan.” Her voice resonated in his gut, and when she urged him with a press of her fingers along his jaw, Logan looked up, really looked at this woman who had crashed into his life like a wrecking ball, tearing down everything he knew to be true.

  She was so delicate-looking—the stereotype of the ballerina that she’d once been.

  But he’d never met anyone so strong, anyone whom he’d trust to hold him up when his own strength faltered.

  It was humbling.

  It was terrifying.

  It was amazing.

  Words failing him, he just let himself look. Her cheeks were flushed with heat from the shower and free of any makeup, hair wet and tangled and dripping on the floor—and she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “Come.” Holding out her hand, Scarlett waited for Logan to rise from the floor. His instinctual reaction was to do it himself, but then he saw the symbolism behind her extended hand.

  He could do it by himself, sure. But he didn’t have to.

  “There. Was that so hard?” A smile in her voice, Scarlett pulled him to her once he was standing, wrapping her arms around his waist. Wanting more contact, and since he would have had to stoop just to rest his chin on her head, Logan let his hands fall to the round curves of her ass, naked beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt, which she’d pulled on after her shower.

  Scarlett squeaked with surprise as he lifted her, then wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “Is this okay?” Logan pressed his forehead to hers as he slowly carried her to the bed. He wasn’t entirely sure what she expected from him now.

  But what he’d intended as simply a show of affection was rapidly, impossibly heating his blood yet again. From somewhere he found a reserve of energy that kept him going. The way he held her had the delicious heat between her legs pressing against his cock and causing it to stir back to life, and with her arms around him, her smell assaulting his senses, he was overwhelmed with the need to express physically what he was feeling in his heart.

  Scarlett’s soft, steady breathing hitched when he slowly slid her down the length of his body, placing her on her knees on the bed. Reaching for the hem of her T-shirt—his T-shirt—he waited before pulling it over her head, his eyes searching hers for permission.

  “Go ahead.” She smiled and held her arms up to help as he tugged the cotton up and away, throwing it over his shoulder. Hesitantly, he traced his fingers over the delicate lines of her collarbone.

  “Is this . . . I mean . . . may I touch you?” Logan had had plenty of sex in his teens and early twenties, and he had always been the aggressor. Since returning from overseas, a series of frustrating, failed encounters in which he felt driven to be both passive and aggressive had led to Luca taking him to his first BDSM club, thinking that he might be dominant.

  Instead he’d found the most satisfaction playing the submissive to a dominant woman, and he hadn’t had a vanilla encounter in more than a decade.

  And while he wouldn’t label anything that he did with Scarlett as vanilla, since they both
had their established roles, he was a little uncertain of how to proceed without all of the props that kink provided.

  “Logan.” Taking his hand, Scarlett mimicked what he had done downstairs, linking her fingers in his and pulling his hand to cover her heart. The steady thump of its beat soothed him, lured him, like a siren with its steady consistency.

  “Just do what feels right. What feels good.” Smiling, she bent forward to place a kiss on his chest, the highest point that her lips could reach.

  Her next words floored him. “I trust you.”

  Logan blinked, his mind whirling, searching for the perfect way to respond, to tell her what that meant to him.

  Words eventually failing him, he did the next best thing, tangling his hands in the damp tendrils of her hair, tilting her face up, and kissing her.

  “Oh.” Scarlett sighed against his mouth, and he inhaled the sweet scent of her breath. Her lips parted beneath his, opening for him, and Logan let his tongue slide over the front of her teeth.

  The kiss heated in a slow simmer that finally had them both gasping for breath. Logan savored the way that she shuddered when he let his hand close over her breast, his thumb playing over her nipple.

  When he sank his teeth delicately into the curve of her shoulder, she cried out, reaching up to fist her hand in his hair, tugging not so gently, urging him to do more.

  Logan couldn’t quite hold back his grin. Scarlett had the decency to look abashed.

  “I like to be in control.” She shrugged, let her eyes narrow playfully. “That’s nothing new.”

  “Maybe not.” Pulling back, Logan let his eyes wander over her entirely, from the top of her dark head to where her knees pressed into the mattress, and all of the luscious skin in between.

  He wanted to explore. He wanted to taste.

  He wanted to learn her the way she’d learned him.

  “No, you being in control is nothing new. But all of this is, for me.” Clasping her around the waist, appreciating the soft curve of her belly, Logan lifted her, then laid her back down on the bed.