In a normal relationship, men are on their best behavior for the first date or even the first few. It’s only gradually that they start showing the many sides of their personality. But with Logan, we skipped the entire guarded phase of the relationship. I immediately saw his deepest and darkest secrets and he saw mine. I guess being careful or guarded felt pointless after that. I’ve seen the extremes of his personality, but not the more everyday moments that build a bridge between those extremes. He can cook. He loves an old, goofy movie. He wishes he was home more often. He likes tennis. And he turns into a sex god with a paddle when he gets turned on.
All joking aside, I needed this. More than I knew. I needed to see he was more than just a beautiful face and body.
He gets up to refill our wine glasses a few times, and either I’m getting more tipsy than I realized, or the movie is actually good. I find myself leaning forward with Logan, wine glass clutched tightly in my hand as I watch Arnold Schwarzenegger get brutalized by the T-1000 in the middle of some apocalyptic factory brimming with molten metal.
Logan catches my interest and smiles. His hand rests on my leg and I look down, biting my lip at how the innocent contact thrills me. I look to him, but he shakes his head, pointing toward the screen. “You’ve got to see how it ends.”
I scowl a little, but I admittedly do want to see how the terminator is going to save John and Sarah Connor.
“Wait,” I say a few minutes later as the final credits are rolling. “Why did we start with Terminator 2? Isn’t there a Terminator 1?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t talk about Terminator 1. As far as I’m concerned, they only ever made one Terminator movie.”
I laugh, but the humor quickly fades to something heavier when our eyes meet. My legs are curled under me on the couch and I’m sitting slightly sideways, facing him. He’s reclined casually, looking absolutely irresistible. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, showing off his amazing forearms and strong hands. His shirt has come slightly loose from where it’s tucked into his slacks, and I can see just the slightest hint of flat, tanned skin.
My eyes wander down and find the bulge of his cock. I suck in a breath.
Logan’s eyes narrow slightly and the corner of his mouth twitches up in the faintest grin. “You know, if you dropped that glass of wine, I would be extremely upset with you. I might have to punish you.”
I look at the glass in my hand and then back at him, his meaning sinking in quickly. It’s an offer. He’s giving me the choice. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the new, closer connection I feel to him. I don’t know what it is that pushes me to do it, but I don’t just drop the wine glass. I sling it down, spraying the lush white carpet with red wine and shattering the glass when it lands.
His lips press together and he breathes out a long, hard breath through his nose, not breaking eye contact.
“Upstairs. You remember where my room is. Go there. Wait by the leather door.”
He grabs my arm as I’m about to stand. “Avoid the glass.”
I nod, realizing I was actually about to just walk right over the pile of broken glass. I cross the living room to the huge stairs, tracing the path I followed weeks ago when I was searching for a bathroom and exploring his house. I find the leather door in his bedroom and wait, not knowing exactly what to do or how he expects me to wait. All I know is my heart is pounding. I’m putting more trust in him than I have yet. I’m alone at his house and no one knows I’m here. The thought thrills and terrifies me.
I decide to sit on the edge of his bed, but he only makes me wait a few minutes before he stalks into the room wearing his suit and mask. I feel a jolt of excitement when I see the outfit. Like a switch has been flipped, he’s my dom now, completely. I lower my head, feeling the dynamic has shifted and knowing I don’t want to displease him. I want to be his perfect little sub. His perfect little slut.
I would laugh at myself if I wasn’t afraid of upsetting Logan. Listen to me. Just a month ago I was the average, sensible woman with everyday ideas about sex. My experience with sex may have been boring and unsatisfying, but it was normal. Now I’m getting wet to think of myself as an obedient little slut. Even as my body is responding and readying itself for the experience I’m about to have, my mind races, trying to make sense of this strange kink I’ve found myself so drawn to.
As much as I try, I just can’t figure out why this is working for me. Maybe it’s because it lets me split off a little part of myself, a different, less responsible part of me that can be uninhibited and let someone else call the shots for once. Maybe I’ve developed some twisted self-punishing complex from watching my mother let the men who came after my father verbally and physically abuse her. Or maybe I’ve been backstabbed so many times I need to have a man show he can take my complete trust and treat it with care. Whatever the reason, even the thought of submitting to Logan and letting him bring me into this world of leather and punishment lights a fire of desire in me unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
Maybe the best approach is to stop asking why. I should just close my mind to the doubts and questions and listen to my body, because my body is sending a much more clear message than my mind. Fuck him. Submit.
Logan eyes me through the mask he wears and then moves to a dresser on the far wall. He twists the false bottom from a vase and pulls out a key. It’s an old, antique style key, thick, gold, and ornate. He moves to the leather door, slides the key in, and twists. There’s a series of metallic clicks from deep inside the door and the sound of something heavy shifting. When Logan presses, the door slides smoothly open.
“Come,” he says.
I stand, following his tall frame into the room. The room is large, but not so big that it’s not intimate. The walls are made of a plush, velvety material that is a dark scarlet color. There’s no shortage of toys and devices either. I recognize some, like the spreader bars, nipple clamps, and metal rings on the ceiling like I’ve seen women suspended from at Club Crave. Others are more mysterious, like a tall wooden object that looks vaguely like a cross, and a leather chair that looks like something from a massage parlor. There’s also a huge bed in the center of the room that looks slightly out of place.
I’m tempted to jokingly ask him if this is the point when most girls run away, but something in his demeanor and the atmosphere of the room keeps me quiet. This isn’t a place for jokes or light-heartedness. This is a room for exploration. It’s a place for reaching into the darkest of sexual desires and shining a light.
Logan stands near the center of the room, feet wide in a powerful stance as he turns to face me. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, pacing from side to side, never letting his eyes leave me. “I recall the way you watched the woman at Club Crave. The one who was being fucked by three men. She was hanging from straps a lot like these, wasn’t she?” he moves to a table and lifts three long leather straps with metal loops at either end.
I nod. “Yes. She was, Sir.”
“I think you would look good strapped to my ceiling, don’t you?” He moves toward me, dragging one of the leather bindings behind him and picking up some kind of cushioned cuff with the same type of metal ring on the end.
I flinch backwards. Part of what was going through my mind when I watched the woman in the club was amazement that she would let herself be put in such a helpless position. Being bound by strips of silk to his bed was one degree of helplessness, but being suspended from the ceiling… that’s a whole different level.
“Take off your clothes,” he says. He drops the cuff and the strap at my feet, turning to gather the rest of the straps and cuffs, and I’m afraid to see his reaction if I haven’t already followed his orders by the time he turns back around.
I strip out of my dress quickly, kicking the white cotton panties I wore down with it and unhooking my bra before tossing it to the ground. I shove the whole pile to the side with my toe. I’m completely naked and he’s fully clothed. The air is comfortable in his play room, but against my bare sk
in it feels just chilly enough to tempt me to cross my arms. He steps toward me and I can’t help noticing how much more in control he seems when I’m unclothed in front of him. I feel like a plaything, something prized. It’s a good feeling, in a dirty sort of way.
He lifts one of the cuffs and meets my eye. I catch the meaning of his look immediately. He’s giving me another chance to back out. He’s reminding me that the whole point of this is for my pleasure, and if I’m too uncomfortable to try, all I have to do is walk away.
I stare back into his gaze and raise my arm, offering it to be fastened with one of the cuffs. His face shows no expression as he nods, fastening cuffs to both my biceps and my thighs just above the knee. He steps on a small footstool and fastens one end of the straps to the ceiling and then adjusts the length of the straps until they are a little shorter. “Come here,” he says.
I step toward him, finding it a little awkward to walk with the somewhat bulky cuffs around my legs and arms.
“You’ll have to hook them to yourself once I lift you.”
“Okay,” I say nervously.
He lifts me carefully, almost tenderly, taking me beneath the knees and under the arms like a child. He makes me seem weightless as he lifts me a few feet off the ground until I can reach the straps and fasten them to my four cuffs. He carefully lowers me until he’s sure the cuffs are all fastened correctly and then he lets go. I feel all my weight settle down and distribute through the cuffs. I’m surprised when it’s not uncomfortable. I could actually imagine taking a nice, cozy nap in this thing.
But given the current circumstances, I’m as far from sleep as I can possibly be. My pussy is wet with anticipation, and Logan paces around beside me, getting something ready I can’t quite see. I’m about three feet off the ground and my legs are spread slightly. It feels like I’m lying in a hammock, but I have to slightly engage my stomach to keep my back from sagging. The harnesses do the rest of the work, holding me up by the legs, arms, and back. There’s enough slack for me to move some, but any significant movement is restricted. If Logan were to walk out of the room right now, I’m not sure I could pull myself up with enough strength to unhook myself. I would be trapped.
My stomach turns a little to think of how much trust I’m putting in him, but the throbbing need in my core overwhelms that. I need to just let go. I need to be uninhibited for once. I need to enjoy this.
Logan walks around me, gripping me hard by the hair and looking straight at me. “It’s time you learn your place, Kitten. On your back, at my mercy. First, I’m going to lick your pussy until you’re begging for my cock. But you’ve been difficult, so you’re going to get my cock, but you’re not going to get it where you’re wanting it.”
I feel my eyes widen slightly. I think I know what he means. Is he going to fuck me in the ass? I’ve never tried that, and the idea is more than a little frightening to me, but I hold my tongue. It’s like he said our first time together, this is about testing my limits. If I don’t like it, I can always tell him to stop.
I keep reminding myself about that. I can stop this at any time. Still, it’s one thing for him to tell me I can stop him and another for him to actually stop. For all I know, he’s never planning to let me go. Guilt creeps through me at the excitement that idea brings me. It’s only a shallow level of excitement though. I need more than sex. I need more than finding the right guy. I need to succeed with my business. The truth is all three are connected, and I don’t think I’ll be completely satisfied unless I have all three. Call me greedy.
His hands snap me out of my thoughts. It’s starting for real now. His touch brings me so powerfully to the here and now that all the rambling musings in my mind are shut off in an instant. There’s only his calloused touch against the softness of my thighs, the heat of his breath against my clenching pussy, and the sound of my shallow breaths as I wait for him to fulfill his promise.
He doesn’t just lick at me or gently kiss his way toward my slit. He presses his face into me forcefully, driving his tongue into my opening and dragging it up to my clit, circling, kissing, and sucking. The immediacy of it makes me throw my head back and gasp.
“Oh, Logan,” I moan.
He grunts into me, the vibration of his mouth only intensifying the already unbelievable sensations flooding through me. He barely has to kneel to reach my pussy with the way I’m suspended, and I’m completely at his mercy. I could struggle, fight, and try to resist all I wanted and it would make no difference. Right now, as his mouth kisses wetness and heat into my most sensitive place, I’m completely his and I’m completely at his will.
The mounting pressure within me threatens to burst at any moment and I want to clutch his head and gently push him back, but I can’t. He’s squeezing my breasts and pushing down slightly so that I would have to exert inhuman force to pull myself up with the way I’m strapped to the ceiling. All I can do is lay back and brace myself, fearing the intensity of my coming orgasm.
Just when I think I can’t hold it back any more, he stops. I don’t know why I’m afraid to cum yet, but I remember the way he wanted me to wait until he was inside me last time. I feel like it’s some kind of test to see if I can still figure out his wishes even if he doesn’t tell me what he wants. He moves to my side, still fully clothed and masked. He leans down slightly to kiss me and I can taste myself on him, but I don’t care. It’s part of his show of dominance to make me do it, and I gladly play along. Anything to have his lips against mine and his hot tongue probing my mouth.
I hear a faint zipping sound and he pulls back as he frees his cock. My core throbs when I look at it, getting even wetter, which I didn’t think was possible. His dick stands fully erect, veins pulsing faintly with his heartbeat. I lick my lips, unable to take my eyes away from it.
It seems like a vulnerability, the only vulnerability in his otherwise impenetrable armor. He’s my dom. He’s all powerful and his will is the law when I’m in this room. But that perfect, fat cock of his is my one weapon against him. It’s the one way I have of bending his will to mine, and if he lets me, I’m going to see just how well he can maintain his control.
As I hoped, he reaches up and adjusts my straps slightly so I sink down a few inches until his cock is level with my mouth.
“Suck my cock, Kitten,” he says, voice a low, rumbling growl.
The harness around my bicep gives me the freedom to bend at the elbow and wrap my fingers around his waiting cock, taking the velvety head of his cock into my mouth. My eyes trail up to his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, forehead scrunched in pleasure. His lips are slightly parted. I love that I can affect him like this, and it only pushes me further, daring me to do more and do it better.
I let my fingers slide down his base until I’m cupping his balls. I’m able to move my head up and down freely, but starting to feel the strain of having to hold my head upright without any support. As if he’s reading my mind, he grips me by the hair and starts to fuck my face. I only have a split second to feel relief that he’s holding my head up for me before he starts pushing himself so far into my throat that he triggers my gag reflex. I try to swallow around his cock, but I gag a little. He pulls back, leaving me gasping right along with him. My eyes water, but I fix him with a determined look, leaning forward to take him back in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock.
I grin in satisfaction when he has to pull himself quickly out of my mouth. “You’re trying to make me cum before I want to, aren’t you?” He asks. His voice is stern, but there’s a hint of amusement in it.
I do my best attempt at a shrug while strapped to the ceiling.
He bites his lip and grins. “I knew you would be the perfect fucking submissive.” He strides across the room to a table and strips off his jacket. He tosses it to the floor carelessly, like it doesn’t cost thousands of dollars. He unbuttons his cuffs and then his shirt, letting those fall too. His broad back tapers to his narrow waist. I want to run my hands down every last muscl
e on proud display, but yet again, he is calling the shots, and he doesn’t seem intent to let me have free roam of his body yet. Just one more way he’s showing me his dominance.
He undoes his belt and then works his button open and slides his pants down. His black briefs hug his amazing ass and give me a perfect view of his lean, powerful legs. The briefs come off last, and all I can do is sigh at the sight of him completely naked. I trace the strong line cutting down his back, splitting the two wide slabs of muscle on either side, following it down to his ass, which is tight and absolutely biteable. If he gives me a chance, I might just have to confirm how bitable it really is.
He turns and walks toward me, confident in his nudity, as he should be. There’s no spare fat on him and he’s completely and totally aesthetic. Art students would probably wet themselves if they had a chance to draw his form and study it. Though I doubt female students would make it past the staring phase.
It’s only when he positions himself between my legs with a bottle of clear liquid in his hand that I remember his promise. I’ll get his cock, but not where I want it. I involuntarily clench, trying to squeeze my legs together. His powerful hands push them farther apart.
“Relax,” he says, easing his lubricated finger into my ass. I feel my body resisting at first, making the sensation of him inside me pinch uncomfortably.
“Trust me. Relax. Close your eyes and let go, Kitten.”
I try to do as I’m told, sighing out a long, halting breath as he gets his finger deeper. Soon the discomfort shifts into something verging on pleasure, and then I’m moaning and gasping as he pumps a second finger into me.
Bad for the Billionaires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle Page 25