Initiation (Master Class Book 1)

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Friends with benefits?” Her voice oozed the sarcasm that churned in her.

  “Don’t be crass.”

  “Me? Isn’t that your suggestion?” she demanded. “That we meet up again later to fuck?”

  “With us being exclusive to each other.”

  “And me being naked.”

  “Yes. And exposed to me. For me. I want to explore this with you, Jennifer. See where it goes. Don’t diminish what we have.” His eyes were dark, and lines of annoyance were etched around them. “I told you, I will take whatever you’re willing to give.”

  All of a sudden, she realized she’d offended him without meaning to. How the hell they had gone from chatting to this, she had no idea.

  “Let go of the blanket, sub.”

  His tone was melded from steel. And she knew this was much more than a battle of wills. Did she want to see him again? Agree to his demands? All she knew was that the sex had turned her on. The flogging, his supple, unyielding belt, the dastardly tawse…she’d liked them all. Even though she’d only had a short time with him, she wanted to see him again. The future of missionary-only sex now seemed unacceptable.

  She dropped the blanket.

  “Glad that’s settled.” He gave her a curt nod then turned back to the stove.

  Damnable, infuriating woman. Sub.

  Logan allowed his gaze to linger on her feminine shape. He couldn’t get enough of her. The more he scened with her, the more he wanted. He was consumed with ideas of what he wanted to do to her, for her.

  He wondered what the hell had happened since he’d first noticed her almost a month ago. Gorgeous, curious, challenging… Jennifer appealed to his base nature. Add in her responsiveness and he was a grinning, happy idiot.

  He’d never had this kind of reaction to anyone else. And the idea of letting her go tomorrow and just being friends? Hoping that they bumped into each other at a future play party and that she was alone? Competing for her against other Doms? Not a fucking chance.

  He grabbed plates, silverware and placemats.

  “Can I help?”

  Doing household chores, naked? “Yes.”

  He admired her crimson bottom when she joined him in the kitchen. At least one of his marks lingered on her thigh, and her abused nipples were taut.

  As she worked, he carried in the food.

  She’d placed him at the head of the table with her seated to his right. Intentionally? If not, it was further proof of her great instincts. “More wine?”

  When she nodded, he topped off her glass. It’d be a few more hours before they scened again, and he’d make sure this was the last she drank if she wanted to play.

  “Thank you for this,” she said. “I’m feeling spoiled.” She picked up a chip and dipped it into the guacamole. “Delicious.”

  “Made better by the company.”

  “You say that to all naked women.”

  “You’re the only one I’ve ever had at my table.”

  “Even the woman who dumped you on Valentine’s Day?”

  “So nice of you to remind me.” He took a drink of the Mexican beer he’d found in the refrigerator.

  “Sorry.”

  “Said in the not sorry tone.”

  She shrugged, the motion accentuating her breasts. It cost him all his resolve to stay in his seat instead of morphing into a Neanderthal, slinging her over his shoulder and hauling her up the stairs to dump her on the bed before fucking her fast, slow and every speed in between.

  “Not even Helen.”

  “Why me?”

  “You had the interest in BDSM. Common ground. Helen came to it through me. And I want to explore it more with you.”

  “I bring out your inner Dom?”

  Yeah. “Or something a bit less civilized.”

  “But no less polite.”

  “Shrug like that again and we’ll find out.”

  He expected her to blush. Instead, she folded her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up and out seductively.

  “I will never make you eat naked again,” he vowed.

  “I may never wear clothes again,” she responded. “Sir.”

  When he was about halfway finished with the meal, she said, “Back to the surveillance.”

  “I thought I changed the topic earlier.”

  “You did.” She crunched another chip.

  “You’re persistent.”

  “If we’re going to be fucking—”

  “It will be so much more than that.”

  “Will it?” She sat back.

  She said it as if it were his choice, his decision. He knew what he wanted. Her. But could she put up with him? His schedule? His commitment to his work? The ghosts that still shrouded his days? How independent was she? He knew she wanted to pursue her career, and he was fine with that. Maybe, just maybe, they could both get what they needed. “If you’re agreeable,” he responded finally.

  “In that case, I want to know about your business.”

  “That’s something I only discuss with my closest associates.”

  “I’m the one seated at the table next to you, naked,” she countered. “And you told me that you and Helen had issues, some of them because of your job. You kept her out of your private life. If you meant what you said, that you are interested in whatever I’ll give you, then I won’t be kept out of your private life.”

  “Fair enough.” He considered how much to tell her.

  “It’s dangerous?”

  Logan didn’t reply immediately. He didn’t want her frightened. On the other hand, there were times he didn’t arrive home in time for dinner. He’d been shot at, sucker-punched and kicked in the kidneys so hard that he’d peed blood for a week. He kept his freezer filled with ice packs, and he’d been known to sleep for forty hours at one time. “It can be.” Absently he traced the scar then abruptly dropped his hand.

  “I didn’t know being a PI was risky.”

  “Depends on the kinds of things being investigated.” He took another drink. She was right. If they were going to go forward, if she was eventually going to give him her complete submission, she deserved some information. Maybe more than he’d told anyone but Joe. “At the moment I’m working an illegal arms dealing scheme.”

  She blinked. “Shouldn’t the government be pursuing that?”

  “They are.”

  “And you’re…” She blinked, looked away, then back at him as if the last piece of a puzzle had just been tapped into place. “Doing the same sort of thing that you were in the Middle East.”

  “You could say that.”

  Jennifer was obviously choosing her words. He’d answered her questions, but he hadn’t offered any clarification or further information, and she was smart enough to figure that out.

  “So you’re working for the government,” she surmised.

  “Not exclusively. But yes. I do some high-tech business stuff, too.”

  She closed her eyes. “You do counterterrorism work.”

  He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. “Sorry you asked?”

  “I need to know what I’m facing.” She leaned toward him and traced the scar that he’d so recently touched.

  He was tempted to grab her wrist. Wanted to. Needed to.

  Instead, he allowed her to do what she needed to.

  “A relationship with you won’t be easy.”

  “Not always,” he agreed.

  “You told me you forgot Valentine’s Day, for example.”

  “Yes.”

  “She said you were the world’s biggest asshole.”

  “True.” He shrugged. “I’m sure as hell not proud of it.”

  “Does that go for birthdays? Anniversaries? Christmas?”

  “It has. All of the above.”

  “Is it worth it?”

  “Only you can decide.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “I have more than enough money to take care of us. That will allow you the freedom to start your own business. An
d I’ll encourage you. In fact, I need someone to do my books.”

  “I’m a CPA not a bookkeeper.”

  “Meaning you’ll do what you need to but it will cost me a pile of money?”

  She smiled. “A shitpile.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “A lot, a lot,” she confirmed. “And it will probably give me insight into your business that you may not be comfortable with.”

  “I could be talked into taking that chance.”

  She ran her finger around the rim of her mostly still-full glass. “What else? Spankings?”

  “Always.”

  “Fucking?”

  He met her gaze. Her eyes were open wide, those lashes impossibly long. “In your hot little pussy. Your tight ass. And your mouth. Until you cry for mercy.”

  “I…” She dropped her hand into her lap.

  “Heard enough? If so, let’s get started on either the mouth or the ass fucking.” He gave her a wicked, evil grin. “Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you decide which.”

  “You are generous, Sir.”

  “Your choice?”

  “Uhm… Anal scares me a bit. So oral?”

  “Nice try. A proper sub would have said whatever I would like best.”

  The color drained from her face.

  “Mercy on a new sub?”

  “Oh, Jennifer. Jennifer, Jennifer. Don’t you realize yet?” He reached out and put his fingers on hers. “Anything you want.”

  “So oral?”

  “Anything but that.”

  Her eyes went wide. Her breath caught. Her shoulders were rigid.

  “Please stand, turn your chair backward and grab hold of the back.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Are you really going to…?” Breathless, unable to think, let alone form the question, she trailed off.

  When he didn’t respond, she squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, wondering what the hell she was thinking.

  His honesty was a real, raw thing. He’d been open in admitting that he wanted to be more than fuck buddies, and that any relationship would be challenging. Jennifer knew he’d push her physically and mentally.

  The scar he bore was a stark, physical reminder of the daily debt he paid to Joe and the friends he’d lost.

  He’d never quit. He’d forget holidays and he might be on surveillance, unreachable during key moments.

  Yet… Sex with him was spectacular. He didn’t expect her to give up who she was to be his hostess. In fact, he seemed to want to push her to explore her own wants and desires, to become more of the person she wanted to be.

  He scared her in the most delicious way possible.

  “You always have a safe word. I hope you won’t need it, want it. But I’m reminding you that it’s available in every area, in discussion, in sex, in reality. You’re in charge.”

  Feeling unbelievably sexy and sinful, she stood and did what he’d said, holding on to the top of the chair.

  He took another drink of his beer before putting the bottle down. “Your ass is mine tonight.”

  The storm raged, as intense outside as it was in her.

  “And first…” He pulled a small package from his pocket. Lube.

  “You knew this was going to happen, Sir?”

  “Jennifer, I think about you all the time. I’m planning the next scene when we’re in this one.”

  “You think about it ahead of time?”

  “There’s a script in my head.”

  She frowned, but he nodded and said, “Always.”

  “Now put your forehead on the cushion, reach back and spread your ass cheeks for me.”

  “My pussy isn’t sore.” She hoped he’d select that option.

  “Good to know.”

  She could safe word, but she was more uncomfortable with the idea than anything else. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but being here, in the dining room with their reflections stark in the plate glass window, seemed lewd.

  He tore open the package, seemingly content that she would comply. Which she did.

  Swallowing her trepidation, she bent, rested her head on the cushion then reached back to part her buttocks.

  “You can skip the embarrassment,” he assured her. “That has no place between us.”

  “I wish it were that easy.”

  “It is. Or it can be, if you stop worrying and start experiencing.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to be as easy with it as he wanted.

  “On your tiptoes.”

  Before she was settled, his finger pressed against her anal whorl.

  She gasped and moved her hands. Because he was generally so gentle, she’d expected him to tease her pussy instead of going straight for her ass.

  He smacked her right ass five times, hard, in quick succession.

  “Damn it!”

  “Do as you’re told, sub. We can do this easy and nice or I can blindfold, clamp, spank and fuck you now.”

  She fought her own fear and shyness as she struggled back into position.

  “Two fingers,” he said.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “Three if you throw another tantrum.”

  The sting on her skin and the undeniable heat in her pussy convinced her to press her lips together.

  Last night had been easy compared to this.

  She could feel that he’d placed his forefinger on top of his middle finger. Inexorably he moved into her tight hole.

  “Breathe and bear down.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Would you like a gag better?”

  “No, Sir!”

  “Stop fighting. Open up.”

  She felt the unusual, unwelcome pressure against her sphincter.

  He reached beneath her to tweak a nipple.

  The shock made her gasp, and when she released it, she inadvertently relaxed, allowing his lube-slickened fingers to penetrate deeper.

  She tried to pull away, but he cupped the back of her head with his palm, holding her firmly, reassuringly.

  “Stay still.”

  For at least thirty seconds, he didn’t move. She became accustomed to the full sensation. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable.

  “Good. Good.”

  She could subsist on his approval alone.

  With his fingers, he began to fuck her ass. She squeezed her eyes shut, in a ridiculous, stupid hope that it would help keep the embarrassment away.

  “Relax, my little subbie. I’ve got you.”

  He was right about that, she thought wryly. With the position she was in and the way he held her, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  After a few seconds, she took a deep breath. Maybe it wasn’t as horrible as she’d imagined it would be.

  “Give yourself over to me. There are more nerve endings here than any other place in your body. It can actually be pleasurable.”

  “Not sure I believe that, Sir.”

  “No?”

  Every word he said was soft, reassuring, not demanding.

  “Think about the way it feels,” he said. “Not about what’s happening. Focus on the fact I want to do this. This is strictly for my pleasure, and it’s not about humiliating you. Can you do that? For us?”

  She took a shuddering breath. “I’ll try.”

  “I’m going to let go of your head, but I want you to stay exactly where you are, as if I’m still holding you.”

  As much as possible, she nodded. “I understand.”

  He moved his free hand to her pussy and slid the pad of his thumb across her swollen—and shockingly damp—clit. “Let go. And stop thinking,” he reminded her.

  She forced the tension from her muscles.

  “Much better.” He moved his fingers in and out, spreading her, filling her.

  The sensation stunned her. Combined with the pressure between her folds, she was lost. Without conscious thought, she rolled up onto the balls of her feet, changing the angle, giving him greater access.

  “
Sensational,” he approved. “Fantastic.”

  He continued to thrust, manipulate, tease. Unbelievably, an orgasm began to unfurl deep inside her, the pressure unlike anything she’d ever experienced. “God. Logan… Master… Sir…” She wasn’t exactly sure what she was saying, all she knew was that she wanted the climax that loomed just seconds in her future.

  “Are you going to come from me fucking your tight ass with my hand?”

  “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

  “Tell me what you need.”

  “Harder.”

  “Anything.”

  He gave it to her, relentlessly. She spread her ass cheeks even farther and ground her heated cunt against his hand.

  “You couldn’t be sexier.”

  “Sir.”

  He quickened his motion on her pussy. “Take it.”

  Screaming, crashing, shaking, she orgasmed. “Damn.” Blood rushed between her ears, and every muscle seemed frozen even though her legs felt weak. “Damn.”

  Slowly he moved his hands. Her knees buckled.

  “Stay there,” he said.

  She heard his footsteps fade then the sound of water running. Within a minute, he was back with a warm, damp washcloth.

  As he cared for her, she shook her head. After this, there would definitely be no embarrassment between them.

  When he was finished, he helped her to stand and face him.

  “Now you’re properly prepared for tonight.”

  “There’s more?”

  “I promised you that your ass is mine tonight. I always keep my promises. My cock is going up there, balls deep.”

  She flushed scarlet, even though she no longer thought that was possible.

  He wrapped her in the blanket she’d used earlier and told her to have a seat while he put away the leftovers and loaded their plates in the dishwasher.

  A fire blazing, a sexy man thoroughly dominating and caring for her. “I really could get used to this.” She took a sip of her wine and looked at the raging storm.

  “You will,” he agreed.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and watched as he walked toward her carrying his unfinished beer.

  “You’re able to sit,” he mused.

  “Not comfortably.”