Linger

by Lauren Jameson

  But something told her that pushing with words wasn’t going to do a thing.

  Maybe it was time to revert to pushing with her body again. If she had to break down the physical to get to the soul, then that was what she would do.

  Nimbly, she slid her leg from his grasp, slid off the couch. He grabbed for her, and she cast him a glare. “Mind your manners, sub.”

  And with just those words, the air in the room changed. She watched Logan’s pupils dilate, saw him become more aware of her, a sub to his Domme.

  In response, her spine straightened, and though she was wearing a flirty pink skirt, she felt as powerful as she did in leather and heels.

  Casting a warning look his way, she turned to the stereo and switched off the radio station that had played throughout their dinner.

  Sifting through his CDs, she grimaced. “Don’t you have anything but country?” she called back over her shoulder. Ugh. So not what she had in mind.

  Then her fingers found one disc that wasn’t adorned with a man in cowboy boots or a woman with big hair.

  “Bingo.” Sliding it into the stereo, she heard the soft whir of the disc spinning to life. She turned back to Logan as the first notes of a driving rock song pounded out, the music loud enough to have a corresponding beat pounding in her blood.

  Slowly, confidently, she made her way back across the room, making sure to exaggerate the roll of her hips with every step.

  He was now sitting straight up on the couch, hands flat on his lap, eyes taking in her every movement.

  Straddling his legs, she toyed with the hem of her shirt.

  He clasped her around the waist, fingers sliding beneath the silky fabric to find her skin.

  Lifting his hand to her lips, she nipped at his fingers in warning.

  “You haven’t earned that touch yet,” she informed him, then swiveled her hips before settling down onto his lap to dance.

  His cock was immediately hard, pressing against the silken heat of her panties as she undulated on him. He growled, and she saw his knuckles go white as he fisted them at his sides in an effort to keep his hands to himself as she had ordered.

  She suspected it would be like this between them for as long as they were together—him pushing her, never surrendering until she had worked for it. Her reining in the attitude that made him who he was, only to have it come through again, after.

  She loved it.

  When she slowly peeled her shirt over her head, letting him see her breasts displayed in her simple but pretty black bra, she watched frustration take him over.

  “Let me fuck you.” His words were arrogant, designed to shock her out of the game she was playing. Shaking her head, she backed up a bit, putting distance between them.

  “No.” Reaching behind her back, Scarlett slowly released the hooks of her bra. Letting the straps fall, she caught the garment against her breasts before it fell to the floor, and Logan groaned.

  “Please let me touch you.” Beneath the cockiness, he looked shaken, though whether it was because he’d managed to share something from his past with her, or because she was teasing him, she wasn’t sure.

  But she wasn’t done. Until he was a mindless, aching bundle of need, she wasn’t done.

  Calling on her years of dance training, she let herself get lost in the music, every sway of her body made all the more sensual because Logan was watching.

  She let her bra fall to the floor.

  She slid out of her skirt.

  She hooked a finger in one side of her panties, cocked a hip, ran her tongue over her lips as she looked Logan in the eye.

  He had undone his pants, and his erection rose from his lap, tall and thick and already wet at the tip. Bending until she could just swipe her tongue over it once, she smiled slowly.

  “Looks like you have a bit of a situation here.” She kicked his feet apart, came to stand between them, knew he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “What do you want, Logan?”

  “I want you to stop being such a cock tease.” Goaded past the point of control, he grabbed her waist, ripped her panties right off her body with a ferocity that made liquid surge between her thighs.

  Taming this wild beast was the absolute hottest thing she ever would have been able to dream up.

  “Let me fuck you, Scarlett.” Pulling her close, Logan buried his face in the curve of her belly. The soft scrape of his stubble woke nerves all over Scarlett’s skin.

  She pushed at his chest until he was forced to lean back into the couch. Grinning as she pulled a condom from his pocket and sheathed him with it, she slowly lowered herself onto his erect cock, gasping as she struggled to work her way down, to take all of him in.

  “Haven’t you learned yet?” she cried out when she finally managed to take him in to the hilt, when the tight pressure of his testicles rested against the curve of her ass. His hands found her hips, dug in, rocking her in his lap.

  “You don’t fuck me, Logan Brody.” Short of breath, she began to move, taking them both to the edge of release fast. “I fuck you.”

  • • •

  Afterward they lay twined in Logan’s bed, naked and with the sweat on their skin cooling in the breeze from the overhead fan. Well, their bed—most of Scarlett’s belongings had migrated to Logan’s room, since by that point she spent most nights in it.

  Logan’s limbs were clumsy with sleep as he pulled Scarlett close to him. She had ruthlessly stomped all of his misgivings about telling her as much as he had into submission with her striptease, and even though it left him feeling naked, he admired her for it.

  As he crept farther toward sleep, he thought that maybe that was why he was finally able to submit to a woman—because he’d found a woman capable of bringing him to his knees.

  And when she was with him, the nightmares stayed farther away.

  She shifted beside him as he was on the final edge of slumber, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. His unconscious took over, and he grabbed for her, finding her hand and pulling it tight.

  “Don’t leave.” He flinched even as the words came out of his mouth, and he blinked his way back to full consciousness.

  He hadn’t intended to say that, especially since she was probably just getting up to use the bathroom.

  But rather than freezing up, or running away, or ridiculing him, Scarlett stopped and smoothed a hand over his hair.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He felt her eyes on him, contemplative.

  Hot with embarrassment, he avoided eye contact as she sat on the edge of the bed, then reached for the wooden jewelry box she’d placed there days earlier. He listened to the sounds of metallic clinks, the slithering of serpentine chains, as she sorted through it, wondering what she was doing.

  Craning his neck, he lifted his head in time to see her pull a cuff bracelet from the sparkling depths of the box. Simple and silver, the band was about half an inch thick all the way around, with an interlocking clasp to hold it in place.

  His heart stuttered when he realized what she was about to do.

  “I would like to give this to you.” Scarlett’s voice was deceptively light, but Logan understood without the words being said.

  She wasn’t just offering to let him wear her bracelet as a token of friendship, or even as anything so simple as a promise ring, though it was, in fact, a promise.

  This bracelet was the equivalent of a temporary collar in their world—a way for the world to see that she had marked him as hers. Not as serious as an engagement ring or a formal collaring ceremony, she was still offering him a promise.

  If he would give himself into her care, then she would take care of him.

  “You don’t have to.” Quickly, Scarlett folded her fingers over the shining silver, hiding it from view. Even in the shadows of the dim room, he could make out the flush on her cheeks. “It was p
resumptuous of me. I’m sorry. I—”

  Logan reached for the bracelet before she could close her hand all the way, catching hold of the metal. It was cool in his palm, a sharp contrast to the heat of Scarlett’s skin.

  “Will you put it on me?” He shouldn’t; he knew he shouldn’t. But in that moment, a force of nature couldn’t have stopped him from trying to get that circle of metal—that promise—around his wrist.

  Silently, her eyes large and luminous in the low light, Scarlett opened the bracelet, which hinged on the side. Placing it around his wrist, she then clipped it closed. Since it was made to be a loose bangle on her, it fit his wrist snugly.

  It would be a constant reminder of her throughout his day, and the thought made warm light spread through the dark places inside of him.

  Scarlett opened her mouth, then closed it again without speaking. It was rare for Logan to see his Mistress at a loss for words, and that he was the cause of it overwhelmed him.

  “Come here.” Pulling her into his arms, he laid them both down on the bed. Scarlett twined her legs with his, wrapped her arms around him before moving his arm so that it rested across her hip, where they could both see the bracelet.

  Later, he felt the mattress dip when Scarlett again climbed out of bed, presumably to do whatever she’d been heading for before he’d stopped her. But this time, the physical reminder of her promise to care for him kept his demons at bay.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “It’s a mild case of wool block, I think.” A week later, Scarlett squatted in the cool, humid air inside the main building of the angora farm that had placed a call to Logan that morning. Returning the animal that looked like a giant cotton ball with a nose back to its cage, she blew an errant wisp of the angora hair off her shirt, turning to the rabbit breeder who watched her nervously.

  “That’s what I thought, but I wanted to make sure. Shit.” Axel Webber was not at all what Scarlett had expected when Logan had sent her on this call—though what she’d expected from an angora breeder, she wasn’t sure. But though the delicate way that the massive lumberjack of a man handled the rabbits that lined the spacious crates of what he called their “habitat” might have been incongruous with his appearance, she saw that he was very skilled at what he did. “All the rabbits have a salt lick and I check their water several times a day. And I groom them regularly, all just to prevent wool block. What am I doing wrong?”

  “Well, you probably know more about angoras specifically than I do, but it sounds—and looks—like you’re taking good care of them.” She brushed more angora hair, which was softer than any wool Scarlett had ever felt, off her clothes. “I’ll want to do some reading up on it, but from what I can tell, it’s not a massive block yet. A papaya or pineapple vitamin supplement dissolved in the rabbit’s water will help break down the fur that’s been swallowed. Apart from that, just keep doing what you’re doing—encourage regular drinking with the salt and the water, make sure that their pellets have plenty of fiber, and give me a call if you notice something off, just like you did.” Give Logan a call, is what she’d meant. He was wearing her bracelet, yes, but she still couldn’t get him to talk about anything too far in the future . . . or in his past.

  Reaching down into the open-topped crate into which she’d just placed the rabbit, Scarlett stroked her hand through the amazingly soft hair that made a pale blue cloud around the surprisingly small body.

  “That’s Deidre.” Axel grinned at Scarlett’s surprised look. “I name them all. You might have noticed, but it can get lonely on your farm, between visits into town.”

  Scarlett hadn’t noticed—mostly because she and Logan were so wrapped up in each other, and in work, that she hadn’t had much time to be alone. But she could see how Axel, who was big and warm and gregarious, might feel that way.

  “I kind of like the quiet out here,” Scarlett admitted as she packed up her things. This was the first call that Logan had sent her on alone, because he’d had someone coming to the house with their sick cat. Scarlett felt a calm pride that she’d been able to figure out the problem on an unfamiliar animal. “I didn’t think I would—I’m from Vegas, and I thought I’d miss the city more. But it kind of feels like home out here.”

  The admission jolted her down to her toes, as it was something she hadn’t fully accepted even in her own head yet. She’d never imagined setting up her hospital anywhere but the outskirts of Vegas. She’d never lived anywhere else. But now . . .

  Why couldn’t she?

  With the new thought buzzing through her mind, Scarlett dragged her attention back to Axel, who was watching her absentmindedness patiently.

  Great, Scar. Really professional.

  “Sorry.” She smiled sheepishly, picking up her bag. “Log—Dr. Brody will mail you the invoice in a few days. You can pick up those papaya or pineapple supplements at the health food store in town. Was there anything else you needed me to look at while I’m out here?”

  Axel stepped back, waiting for her to walk ahead of him out of the barn, which had specially installed double doors to keep the weather outside from making its way into where the rabbits were housed.

  There was deference in his gesture, a way of movement that had recognition going off in Scarlett’s head.

  “Nothing else I need, no.” Axel kept his eyes down as he spoke, though there was a smile on his lips. “But would I be overly forward in asking if Mistress would be interested in staying for a beer and some dinner?”

  Scarlett thought she might have squeaked as her mouth fell open. Her lips worked silently as she tried to form a response.

  Axel looked up—how had she missed his tendency to keep his eyes lowered, how he urged her to walk first, both signs of a well-trained submissive?

  She hadn’t been looking for it. Not out here.

  “How did you know?” she finally asked. Once she recognized him for what he was, obvious now, she knew there was no use denying it.

  “Some people are submissive or Dominant, right down to their core.” He nodded, smiling—a gentle giant. “Sometimes you just know.”

  Yes, sometimes you just knew—like when Scarlett had looked at Logan, felt that spark between them.

  No other submissive—no other man—was ever going to be able to make her feel the same way.

  “So have I scared you off of that drink now?” Axel teased gently, and Scarlett couldn’t help but smile. Here was a man she also had an instinctive feeling about—she sensed he could be a good friend.

  But while she was flattered, she was also very much not interested, because her heart was bound elsewhere.

  “Maybe some other time.” She smiled ruefully, feeling bad for letting him down. But when she thought of Logan’s face when she had placed that bracelet on his wrist, her blood sizzled, and she suddenly couldn’t wait to get back to Folsom Farms.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re already taken.” Axel didn’t ask by whom, and Scarlett certainly wasn’t about to tell, even if the answer was obvious, at least to her.

  One of the rules of kink—you kept the secrets of other members of the lifestyle.

  “I would love to have a beer together some other time.” If Scarlett did stay out here—and that thought had her stomach doing a slow roll of anticipation—it would be nice to have a friend with the same inclinations nearby.

  “Anything for the Mistress.” Axel smiled, and if there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes, Scarlett tried not to feel guilty about it.

  Maybe sometime she could invite another Domme from Veritas out to the ranch to play . . . and invite Axel, too.

  Waving as she pulled out of Axel’s long drive, Scarlett’s thoughts turned toward home. And she realized then that was how she had started to think of Folsom Farms—as home.

  When was too soon to tell someone that you were serious about them? She’d warned Logan right at the beginnin
g that she wasn’t looking for something casual, but those were just words until the reality of true, strong feelings set in.

  Preoccupied as she pulled up the drive to the farm, Scarlett noted absently that there was a dark green Volvo parked in front of the house. Mrs. Donovan and Voodoo were still here, then.

  Scarlett smiled as she imagined cornering Logan later today in the back room that he used as his exam room. He rarely wore a lab coat, but he had one . . . and she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to wear it for her.

  It happened in slow motion, or so it seemed to her mind. She was halfway to the house when the front door opened and Mrs. Donovan stepped out, cat carrier in hand. Logan was right behind her.

  Mrs. Donovan smiled and waved, and Scarlett returned the gesture, which pulled her attention away from the tiny scrap of a dog that, seeing Scarlett’s car, sprinted straight in her direction.

  Scarlett saw the bundle of gray fur jumping a millisecond before the thud reverberated through the vehicle. She screamed, was halfway out of the car before she’d even managed to jolt the vehicle into park.

  “Six!” From across the yard, she heard Logan’s shout, Mrs. Donovan’s cry of distress, the yowl of the cat in its carrier. And over it all, the pitiful, high-pitched whine of the beloved animal she’d just hit with her car.

  Scarlett threw herself down on her knees in the grass. Her instinct was to pick Six up, to hold him close, to make it all go away. Luckily, her training kicked in before she could harm him further. The veterinarian in her knew that moving him could exacerbate his injuries. Though her whole body began to shake when she saw the blood, she tried to wrestle the racking guilt inside of her, to find a professional calm, to do what she had to do.

  Six wasn’t trapped under the wheel. That was good. But the way two of his tiny little legs were bent awkwardly told her they were likely broken.

  When the big brown puppy eyes looked up at her, blurred with confusion and pain, his pitiful whine turned into a howl. Scarlett tried to keep it together—she had always been the strong one. She’d dealt with veterinary emergencies before during the clinic hours needed to get one’s degree . . . but she’d never been the one to cause the animal distress.