Logan eyed her. “I think it’s possible he invented the word.”
Shrugging, she turned moodily away from him, ignoring James too, and returned to peering out of the windows. They were almost there. “So where are we having this talk of yours, then? I presume not in the bar?”
Glaring, Logan replied, “Certainly not. Would it be convenient for you to come to our suite?”
“And what if it’s not?” She was just being awkward for the sake of it now and all three of them knew it.
Logan sighed. “Well then, James and I would have to come down to your room. But I imagine it’s much smaller, and if one of your colleagues was to see us entering…” He didn’t finish the sentence, didn’t need to.
“Fine. Which suite are you in? I’ll go get changed and come up.”
“You’ll come straight up, Fiona. This cannot wait.” He told her the name of the suite—not the same one as last time, but she suspected it would be just as plush.
“Fucking hell.” She turned to James. “Is he always this bloody bossy?”
James, apparently not knowing how to reply without getting into trouble, eventually gave a cute nod and a sheepish grin. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s generally right.”
“Hmph. Well, you would say that.”
A look of hurt crossed James’ face, and Fiona wished she could take her words back. She hadn’t meant them. It had just been her anger and irritation speaking. Reaching out and giving his hand a squeeze by way of apology, she then said, “All right, all right. I’ll come straight up. Let me out then.”
They’d pulled up by now, and the chauffeur came around and opened the rear door. Logan helped her out, before sliding back into his place. Giving her a meaningful look, he said, “See you in a couple of minutes.”
Thanking the driver—just because his employers were being twats didn’t mean she should be rude to him—she turned and made for the staff entrance. Only when the car pulled off, driving around to the main entrance, did she dare risk a glance. Sticking her tongue out rudely at the retreating vehicle, she giggled at her tiny act of rebellion then let herself into the hotel.
As she hung around in one of the service corridors for a few minutes to give them a chance to get inside the building and on their way to their suite, Fiona was glad to find that no one was around. She’d have had a tough time explaining why she was loitering in the first place, never mind if they noticed what she was wearing. Thankfully, though, the Totally Five Star relied much more on boots-on-the-ground security personnel than CCTV—the latter mostly reserved for the public areas—so there wouldn’t be any bizarre imagery of her skulking around, resembling a flasher, before scurrying up to one of the luxury suites.
Feeling that she’d let enough time elapse, Fiona pulled herself up straight, adopting a casual air, and strode confidently in the direction of the nearest bank of elevators. The staff members she passed were busy, so they exchanged nothing more than a polite nod or a quick hello, and she got all the way to the top floor without incident.
As she knocked on the door of James and Logan’s suite, however, she had a feeling that that was about to change.
The door was flung open almost immediately, and Logan grabbed her hand and all but yanked her inside, closing the door behind her. She was glad she didn’t have the sexy heels on any longer, because the force with which she’d been propelled into the room would have made her highly likely to fall flat on her face. It wouldn’t have hurt, because of the carpeting that felt like a duvet beneath the feet, but it would still have been embarrassing, and she’d had enough of that particular emotion for one evening.
“Where the hell have you been?” Logan demanded, relieving her of her tote bag but allowing her to keep the coat. Whether that was for her sake, or his and James’, she wasn’t sure.
“Fucking hell,” she shot back, jabbing her hands on her hips, “you’ve really got a bee in your bloody bonnet tonight, haven’t you? If you must know, I was giving you two chance to get here first. I didn’t particularly want to be seen hanging about outside your room, especially dressed like this, all right?”
Some of his ire apparently dissipating, Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It had grown since the last time she’d seen him. The almost-curls she remembered were now full-on curls, and she wondered what it would be like to grip them in her fists as his talented tongue played between her legs.
Sounding almost defeated, Logan asked, “Can I get you a drink, Fiona?”
“Yes, please. Since I barely drank half of the one I bought at the club, it’s the least you can bloody do.”
With a strained smile, he gritted out, “What would you like?”
“A Screaming Orgasm.”
A snigger from the bedroom doorway alerted her to James’ presence. He must have been in the bathroom when she’d arrived. Giving him a small smile and hoping he’d forgiven her mean comment in the limo, she shifted her attention back to Logan. “Well?”
Coolly, he said, “I take it you are referring to the cocktail.”
“Yes. Obviously.” Had she not been so pissed off, she might have requested the other kind, too—but not now.
“Fine. James?”
“Ooh, if you’re making cocktails, I’ll have a Mojito.”
Rolling his eyes, Logan said, “See what you’ve started here?”
“Well, you did ask. And actually, I thought you’d order from room service.”
“I could. But this’ll be quicker. I don’t want to mess around any longer. This talk is happening.”
Cocktail in hand, Fiona settled back into one of the plush armchairs, while James and Logan sat on the sofa. She took a long pull on the straw, enjoying the mix of flavors as they hit her tongue. She swallowed, then said, “Well?”
“Are you going to tell us why exactly you were at that club?” Unsurprisingly, Logan took the lead.
“Aren’t you supposed to be smart? I’d have thought that much was bloody obvious.”
“Fiona…”
Spurred on more by James’ concerned expression than Logan’s firm tone, she said, “Look, this is your fault. After what happened last month, you guys put a lot of ideas in my head. A lot. Obviously we were a little preoccupied, so I didn’t get the chance to find out more about the whole spanking, BDSM thing, but it intrigued me. However, since you two buggered off without giving me any way of contacting you, I couldn’t ask you. So I took matters into my own hands. I went online, did some research, bought this”—she pulled one of her coat lapels aside to indicate her outfit—“then went to that club. I thought the best way of finding out what it was all about was to go there and see for myself. I couldn’t very well take any of my friends with me, which is why I went alone.”
By now, James had dropped his head into his hands, and Logan looked thunderstruck, then angry all over again. “You figure it’s our fault? How so, when you were the one that upped and left the suite in the middle of the night without leaving your phone number? We couldn’t very well get a message to you, not without someone finding out and asking questions, so we had no choice but to check out without contacting you. So, rather than pointing the finger of blame at us, how about you think about that?”
Fiona opened her mouth to snap out a retort, then closed it again. For fuck’s sake, he was right. She had left without giving them a way of getting in touch. But she’d had no idea they’d want to get in touch.
In a small voice, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I just thought it was a one-night thing and that’s how it was going to stay. I had no idea you would even want to stay in touch, so leaving contact details didn’t even occur to me.”
Looking up, James said calmly, “All right, it looks as though we’re all partially to blame for this situation. So let’s move past pointing fingers and arguing. It’s getting us nowhere. I, for one, Fiona, am sorry we left you feeling so misinformed and that you felt you had to find out more about the BDSM and fetish scene by yourself. Had we
known, we’d never have let you go alone—”
“But I was fine,” she cut in. “I’d only been there a little while and was just about to go into the performance room and see what it was all about. Then you two turned up, and the next thing I know I’m being hauled out of there like a naughty child. Which reminds me…” She turned her gaze on Logan. “You owe me the entrance fee.”
Wordlessly, he stood, pulled his wallet from his pocket, retrieved two notes and handed them over. Then he retook his seat. “All right,” he said, “what do you want to know? Where should we start?”
Taking another pull on the straw as she mulled over Logan’s question, she swallowed, then replied, with a shrug, “From the beginning, I suppose.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Fine,” Logan said, with a curt nod. “James?”
Also nodding, James said, “Yep, no problem.”
“Great.” Logan stood and slipped off his shoes, using his foot to shove them under the coffee table out of the way. “You two finish your drinks. I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re ready. Don’t be too long.”
Turning smartly on his heel, he strode into the bedroom, leaving Fiona and James exchanging amused looks. Patting the sofa beside him, James said, “Come sit here, sweetie. Let’s chat a while as we finish our drinks.”
Doing as James asked, Fiona settled down beside him and continued sipping at her cocktail. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. You know…in the limo.”
“Forget about it,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “I know you just said it in anger, so let’s not mention it again. It’s been a weird evening all round. Hopefully now we can improve it exponentially.”
“I like the sound of that.” Fiona grinned, her mood picking up now that she knew James didn’t hold her comment against her. Eager to find out what the bedroom had in store, she sucked hard on the plastic straw, then let out a laugh at the loud slurping sound she made. “Oops! Think I’m empty!”
Downing the remains of his own drink, James took Fiona’s glass and put them both on the table before standing up and holding out his hand. “Come on. Let’s set about righting some wrongs, huh? Your education awaits. Though,” he added, as Fiona took his hand and he pulled her up off the sofa, “Logan likes fast learners. So do your best to keep up. Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”
They stepped into the bedroom and Fiona, hyper-aware of James’ comment about being a fast learner, drank in the sights, trying hard to make sense of them, commit them to memory. A series of implements sat, perfectly lined up on the silver silk duvet cover. Most looked to be for corporal punishment, but she also saw some satiny material, some thick leather handcuffs, something else with leather straps and a ball attached and a couple of weirdly-shaped sex toys, one bigger than the other. She reminded herself that the whole point of her being here was that they were going to teach her all about this stuff—so just because she didn’t know what everything was now, she’d be thoroughly educated by the time she left. Hopefully.
Logan had now removed his socks and his shirt, and stood there in only his dark blue jeans, which rode low enough on his hips to offer an enticing slice of his underwear, which naturally led her to fantasize about what was beneath. Just because she already knew, had already experienced what was beneath, didn’t mean she didn’t want to see, taste and touch it all over again with both of them.
James’ body heat was apparent as he remained just behind her in the doorway, and he reached out, pulled her hair away from the side of her neck and murmured into her ear, “I’m looking forward to this. And to having a proper look at what you’ve got on underneath that coat. I don’t suppose you’ll let me relieve you of it?”
Shuddering at James’ closeness, the whisper of his hot breath on her skin and his words, she nodded slowly. “Okay.”
He took the garment as she shrugged it off her shoulders, and she was vaguely aware of him moving away from her as she continued to look at the items on the bed and at Logan. He’d watched the exchange between her and James with interest, and now he grinned as her slutty get-up was revealed once more.
“Can I just say how much I love that outfit?” His eyes glinted with lust, and Fiona, despite her relative inexperience, suspected she already knew what Logan had in store for her.
“You can. Thank you. I’m glad you approve.” The rebellious streak still burning within her, she grabbed the sides of the PVC skirt and pulled them out wide as she gave a mocking curtsey.
A sharp inhalation of breath from behind her told her James was back and was either surprised or shocked by her behavior.
Seemingly choosing to ignore her—or maybe he was saving his response until later—Logan replied, “So, since you’re dressed appropriately, how about you be the pupil and I’ll be the teacher? You should address me as Sir.”
Now this was something she did already know about. Submissives often called their Dominants Sir, Master or something similar. It was a mark of respect. Given that this was just a game at this stage, though, Fiona was happy to play along. It didn’t make her Logan’s submissive.
“Yes, Sir. I’m willing to learn.”
“Good. Come here, girl, and bring your friend.”
Half-turning, she reached for James’ hand, and the two of them crossed over to the bed. As she got a closer look at all the items laid out on the silken bedclothes, the pulsing that had begun between her legs back in the club grew stronger. Again, she was reminded of why the soundproofed rooms were so useful.
“Okay. I hope you’re paying attention, because we’ve got a lot to pack in, and I’ll be moving on to a more practical demonstration later in the lesson. From left to right, we have whip, crop, flogger, paddle, slipper, cane, tawse, handcuffs, blindfold, ball gag, restraints, two sizes of vibrating anal plug and a bullet vibrator. As always, in the bedside drawer, we have lubricant, condoms and antibacterial cleaning wipes.”
The last sentence, Fiona was sure, was more to reassure her of her safety without breaking out of the persona he’d adopted than to teach her anything. She appreciated it nonetheless. Nodding, she said, “Okay, Sir. So what’s next? Will you be using all of these things on me?”
As the words tumbled from her lips, she found herself hoping that the answer was no. Not all tonight, anyway. It’d be too much. She was sure of it.
Chuckling, Logan said, “No, not all of them. Some of them, yes. But all those corporal punishment devices, plus my hand, would be much too much for your delicate buttocks to take in just one evening. What I propose is a taster of a few of the gentler ones. Then for some of the more painful ones, I’ll teach you, using James here as our subject, how to use the items.”
She licked her lips as she digested the words. Then, nodding again, she said, “Yes, Sir. I understand, and I accept your proposal.”
James’ consent wasn’t asked for, but Fiona figured the two of them had played these kinky games a hundred times over, so it was implied by the fact that he was even here.
“Very good, girl. Now, a big part of BDSM is not doing anything you don’t want to. Or, if you find that you don’t enjoy something or it hurts beyond the realms of pleasure-pain, then the Dominant will stop immediately. This is achieved by the use of a safe word. You say the safe word, and anything that’s being done to you at the time will stop straight away, no questions asked, no repercussions. All right?”
“Yes, Sir.” She had known that already, but she didn’t want to interrupt him or put him off his stride, mainly because said stride was so damn sexy. She’d known almost from the moment they’d met how bossy he was, but when he morphed into this full-on Dominant persona, she found she liked it, very much. She’d enjoyed it when he’d taken charge, orchestrated the smoldering threesome they’d had a month ago, particularly since the results had been so spectacular.
Despite these feelings, though, she didn’t feel very submissive when he was this way. She’d willingly gone along with his plans during their ménage because she hadn’t had the faintest
idea how things worked, but she’d never felt tempted to throw herself upon his mercy and obey his every command. How was it possible to find Logan’s dominance so hot, but without being submissive?
Even more strangely, she was much more excited than worried about the prospect of having some of the implements used on her—perhaps because she’d only be subjected to the gentler ones—and the thought of using what was left on James was thrilling. Confused, she figured it would be better to stop thinking, and start doing, and have done to her. She could try to work out what it all meant afterwards. Or maybe ask questions. But not now. They were making progress here, were on the very cusp of yet another unforgettable evening together, and she didn’t want to delay it any longer.
“Are you still with us, Fiona?” Logan’s voice punctuated her decision—a full stop.
“Sorry, Sir. What was that?”
“I asked if you could choose a safe word, please. Something distinctive that you wouldn’t normally call out in the bedroom. So not ‘no’ or ‘stop’. For example, James’ safe word is ‘supernatural’, after his favorite television show.”
Giving James an impressed sideways glance, Fiona smiled. “Mine, too,” she said, before turning back to Logan. “In that case, Sir, I would like my safe word to be ‘Castiel’.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “God, both of you? Really? Should I dress in plaid and jeans, stock up on holy water and rock salt and be done with it?” Shaking his head, he continued, “Okay, Fiona, ‘Castiel’ it is then. Remember, though, this is only if you want something to stop. If you want to slow down, or for me not to use so much force, just saying so will be sufficient.”
“I understand, Sir.” The vision of him dressed up as a Winchester brother was not unappealing, but she decided to keep that particular opinion to herself.
“Excellent. Let’s get started, then. Come with me, Fiona.”
He led her to a straight-backed chair with no arms. She wondered why he hadn’t picked one of the more comfortable armchairs, but didn’t have to wonder for long.
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