Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories

by Sierra Cartwright

  He brushed that stray lock of hair back from her forehead. “Get some rest,” he told her. “You’ll need it.”

  She splayed a hand on his chest. Seconds later, he suspected she might already be asleep.

  He stared straight ahead. With a jolt, he recognized that he wasn’t just thinking about the past. He was planning to see her again.

  *****

  The cold woke her.

  Instinctively she reached toward the middle of the bed but realized she was alone.

  Disoriented, she sat up.

  It took her a moment to remember she was at Joe and Noelle’s house. Logan had been holding her when she’d fallen asleep. No, not Logan. Master Logan.

  Memories flooded her, and her pussy throbbed despite how tender she was.

  Outside, night was starting to lose its grip, and the sky was a milky, cloudy gray. She wondered what time it was.

  She waited a few minutes, and when he didn’t return to the bed, she grabbed the sheet, secured it around her upper body, and went to find him.

  Logan was sitting on the couch, fully dressed in his jeans, long-sleeved shirt, and his boots. He had a cup of coffee in hand and was staring into the blazing fireplace.

  The fact she was wearing only a sheet and was noticing how cold her body felt left her vulnerable and uncertain.

  Even though she had moved silently and stood there motionless, he looked in her direction. He leveled a cool gaze on her.

  “Are you always that on guard?” she asked.

  “Occupational hazard,” he replied.

  “Complicated man.”

  “No. Very simple, actually. I know what I want, what I don’t.”

  “And...?”

  “Come here,” he finished.

  He looked intense, brooding. Despite that, he stole her breath.

  “Come here, Jennifer,” he repeated.

  Unable to resist, she walked toward him.

  He scooted over and she sat next to him on the couch. The leather was warm from his body as well as the blazing fire, and she realized it had been a long time since she’d been this content.

  “Coffee?” He offered his cup.

  She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “No sugar?”

  “You’re one of those,” he said.

  “Those?”

  “Amateurs.”

  “And no desire to become a pro.” But because she was cold and it was steaming, she took a second sip.

  “The storm has eased off,” he said. “Snowplows should be out soon.”

  Outside, a few gentle flakes still drifted down. And then she noticed he’d cleaned up the dining room. The cupcakes were nowhere in sight, and she wondered how long he’d been awake or if he’d gotten back up after she went to sleep. Perhaps he’d stayed up the entire night. Since she was curious, she asked.

  “Got a phone call around four,” he told her. “Potential break in the case I’m working on.”

  She waited and he provided a bit more detail.

  “We’ve been monitoring a house to see if our guy would show up. Someone potentially matching his description arrived in the middle of the night. He’s been holed up.”

  “So you need to leave?”

  “Soon.” He nodded. “I need to take over for Jeremy.”

  Her stomach plummeted. She hadn’t been sure what she was hoping for or expecting, but the idea of him leaving made her feel bereft.

  “I’m not letting you get away without getting your number this time,” he said, digging his cellular out of his back pocket. “I know better than to think you’ll call me.”

  She gave him her information, and he programmed it in before saying, “I cleaned the snow off both of our cars and scraped the ice from your windows, but I suggest you wait until the sun is up before leaving. The longer you wait, the safer your drive will be. There’s almost a full pot of coffee in the carafe.”

  “Thank you. Not just for the shoveling, the cleaning up, and the coffee...” She paused.

  As if he had all the time in the world, he waited for her to continue.

  “But also for last night’s experience.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He finished his coffee, then put the cup on the end table before standing.

  Logan offered his hand and she accepted it. He helped her up, then continued to tug until she stood in front of him.

  “I hope to see you again,” he said.

  She tried for a casual, I’m-unaffected-by-what-happened smile. “That would be nice.” Nice wasn’t the word. Reality-tilting was closer. How the hell could she ever go back to a normal dating life after this?

  He fisted a hand into her hair and tugged back her head.

  She met his gaze. Last night his eyes had been molten. This morning, they were closer to frost. But his lips were heated, his tongue demanding.

  He ripped the sheet from her body, leaving her naked, her nipples peaked, her thighs parted, her pussy wanting.

  He toyed with her nipples, then slid his hand between her legs. Even with their mouths joined, she moaned and rocked toward him, hungrily seeking release.

  Just moments before she came, he pulled his hand away.

  “What?” Confused, she blinked when he took a step back.

  “I want you to think of me.”

  “I...” Is he serious? He intended to leave her unfulfilled? Goose bumps raced up her arms.

  Without another word, he turned and headed toward the home’s entryway. He shrugged into his jacket and picked up his bag.

  After he opened the front door, he looked over his shoulder. “Oh, and Jennifer?”

  She met his gaze.

  “I meant that I want you to think of me. So don’t masturbate.” With that, he left. The door closed behind him with a resounding shudder.

  *****

  Midmorning, Logan sent Jennifer a text, asking if she had made it home okay. She responded that she was fine and thanked him for ensuring her safety. In addition to cleaning off her car and shoveling all the snow, he’d also sprinkled salt to prevent the pathways from icing over again.

  Around noon, he sent a second message, letting her know it might be a while before he contacted her again. He’d followed with a third.

  Be patient?

  She’d replied that she would.

  And then... Nothing.

  All afternoon and way too late into the night, she checked her phone before giving in to frustration and turning it off altogether.

  Not that it mattered. When she woke up, she saw there had been no notifications.

  At work on Monday, she placed her phone on her desk at work and waited for it to ring or signal a text from him. Although she received a dozen nosy messages from Noelle, Jennifer didn’t hear from Logan.

  Noelle told her to give him time. After all, he was a busy man. Noelle then reminded Jennifer that his ex-girlfriend had grown impatient with him, and it hadn’t meant he’d stopped caring about her.

  But Jennifer knew the truth. His behavior toward Helen had been an indication that there’d been trouble in the relationship.

  By Tuesday, Jennifer’s frustration made her irritable at the office. It wasn’t just because she hadn’t heard from him, but also because she’d been stupid enough to follow his dictate not to masturbate despite her desperation to orgasm.

  She asked herself why she was obeying him. They didn’t have a relationship. It wasn’t as if she were his sub. She didn’t know whether he actually would call again. How the hell long was she supposed to wait? Until her lady bits no longer functioned?

  But the harder she’d tried not to think about him or the way he’d secured her to the St. Andrew’s cross, the more persistent the memories became, growing bigger in her fantasies and invading her dreams.

  After work on Wednesday, she met Eden, Ava, and Noelle for happy hour at a local bar in the Highlands.

  “You don’t look happy,” Ava observed.

  Not much got by the Divas.

  “So, what’s wrong?” A
va continued.

  “You still haven’t heard from him?” Noelle guessed.

  “From who?” Eden demanded.

  For the next few minutes, Noelle confessed her part in helping set up Logan and Jennifer.

  Then Eden turned to Jennifer. “And? Did you scene with him?”

  “Yeah,” Jennifer admitted. “I did.”

  “Did he paddle you like that other Dom did?”

  “No. But he did use my flogger.”

  “The one we bought when we were looking for Noelle’s bachelorette gifts?” Ava asked. Without waiting for an answer, she plowed ahead. “I knew it! How was it?”

  “Better than I imagined,” Jennifer admitted, rubbing her finger around the outside of her margarita glass.

  She knew Eden would press for information, but honestly, she wanted to keep most of the details to herself. They were private—not necessarily because of what she and Logan had shared but because of how she reacted to it mentally, emotionally. How could she possibly explain what it felt like to be overcome by endorphins, lost inside her own head, in a place so pleasurable she wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted to come back?

  “You’re understanding it better, aren’t you?” Noelle asked, more softly. “How complex the whole BDSM dynamic is.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “I’m not sure I wanted to know.”

  “Why?” Eden asked. “Did it hurt?”

  Noelle and Jennifer both glowered at her.

  “What?” Eden held up her hands.

  “Of course it hurt,” Jennifer said.

  “Okay. So you hated it, right?” Eden pressed.

  “No.” She’d loved it. Wanted it. Craved it.

  “Ha!” Ava exclaimed.

  “Ha?”

  “I think you like this Logan guy.”

  “Master Logan,” Jennifer corrected automatically, hearing his voice in her ear. A light shiver traced through her veins.

  “Oh, yeah.” Ava reached for a tortilla chip. “You’ve got it bad.”

  Unfortunately, Jennifer knew her friend was right. Problem was, he obviously didn’t return the feelings. With a wince, she realized what it was like to be the person on the other side of the “in love” equation.

  Even though she spent the next hour chatting with her friends, Jennifer’s heart wasn’t in it and she had a difficult time paying attention. As they walked to their cars, Noelle squeezed her arm.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow so we can have a more private conversation,” Noelle promised.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got a busy day.” Jennifer smiled, hoping to take any sting from the words.

  Noelle pulled back, but she nodded as if understanding. “If you change your mind, call me.”

  Jennifer wasn’t sure she was interested in talking about her experiences with anyone, even the one person who might understand what she was going through.

  “Tell me you’re okay.”

  “I will be,” Jennifer replied, hoping Noelle couldn’t hear the lie. “I promise.”

  Because she had no plans for the upcoming weekend and she needed to keep herself busy so she didn’t slowly go out of her mind, Jennifer picked up a couple gallons of paint at the hardware store before going home.

  She went to bed early, slept badly, then dragged all the way through work on Friday. Then, annoyed at herself, she turned off her phone when she got home on Friday evening.

  Like a madwoman, she painted the guest room. On Saturday morning, she got up and began taping off the kitchen cabinets and moving out the table in preparation for its first coat of paint.

  By Saturday night, she was exhausted and every muscle ached. She drowned her thoughts by listening to music so loud that knickknacks danced in the curio cabinet.

  She was only marginally successful in blocking out thoughts of Master Logan.

  But once she drew her bath, memories seeped in. As she sank in and the hot water soothed her muscles, she began to relax, and that wasn’t good. A restless hunger consumed her.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about sex.

  As usual, the harder she tried to shove thoughts away, the bigger they became.

  Her clit throbbed, and she wanted an orgasm.

  She told herself it couldn’t hurt to masturbate. She didn’t owe Master Logan anything. They’d shared a few hours, a couple of great scenes, and he’d helped her explore her boundaries. It wasn’t as if they had a relationship. Or that they’d see each other ever again.

  Jennifer trailed her fingers down her breastbone, then cupped each breast in turn. She gently tugged on her nipples, but she couldn’t get any kind of satisfaction from it. She needed more pressure. Or better yet, some pain.

  Frustrated, she sat up and pulled the plug to drain the water.

  After climbing from the claw-foot tub, she wrapped a towel around herself and went to find her toy bag.

  She pulled out the nipple clamps she’d never played with, and she grabbed a small vibrator, then climbed onto the bed.

  As soon as she closed her eyes, she imagined Master Logan telling her what to do. “Yes,” she whispered to the empty room as she rolled her right nipple, teased it, pulled on it, elongating it in preparation for the bite of the tiny, serrated alligator teeth.

  She recalled the way he’d placed the clip last week, and she did the same.

  The grip scored her tender flesh, and she lifted her hips from the mattress. Since she’d been left wanting last Sunday morning, arousal had lain in her belly, low and hot. Now it flared in fervent demand.

  Jennifer repeated the process with her left nipple, and this time she moaned. The pain made her clit throb. She didn’t just want an orgasm—she needed it.

  With her eyes still closed, her imagination still racing, she reached for the vibrator, then turned it on. She parted her labia and placed the wriggling nubby head of the bullet against her clit.

  She dug her heels beneath her, arching her back as she pressed against the vibrator. “Damn...” Wishing Logan were there, she slipped a finger in her pussy, then pushed the bullet hard against her clit, rapidly moving her wrist to create more motion.

  Her breaths came faster and faster, sharper and sharper.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Sir...”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to orgasm?”

  “But...” Goddamn. Jennifer couldn’t get there, couldn’t come... Maybe just a little more pressure...

  “I said stop it immediately, Jennifer.”

  Fuck. All of a sudden, fantasy vanished. His voice seemed so fucking real. Panting, she opened her eyes, then screamed.

  Logan stood in her bedroom only a few feet away, wearing a ferocious scowl, his arms folded formidably across his chest.

  Petrified, stunned at being caught, pissed off he was there, and fucking elated that he was, she remained frozen, her pulse racing. “Logan.”

  “Master Logan,” he corrected. “I’ll take that.” He held out a hand and glanced at the still-buzzing bullet she’d somehow dropped onto the mattress. “And then you can get on your knees and explain what the hell you think you’re doing.”

  Chapter Seven

  Logan waited impatiently for her to follow his orders.

  Instead, she sat up and demanded, “What are you doing here?” She grabbed a nearby robe and dragged it against her.

  The motion knocked off one of the alligator clamps. She winced, but didn’t attempt to remove the other one. Smart girl.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I’m a goddamn detective.”

  “If you think...” Jennifer trailed off.

  He waited.

  “That you can burst in here without calling or texting me—”

  “I did. Several dozen times in the last twenty-four hours. I was starting to get worried about you. So was Noelle. Check your phone.”

  Her gorgeous blue eyes went wide. He saw realization dawn. Since his numerous cal
ls had gone straight to voice mail and she hadn’t responded to half a dozen text messages, she had probably turned it off. “Now do as I requested.”

  “Ordered,” she countered.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Semantics.” Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. In coming here, unexpected, uninvited, he knew he’d scared the shit out of her, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be overly concerned.

  “Five days,” she said. “You could have called.”

  He pulled out his phone with the shattered screen and tossed it on the bed next to her.

  “Did you drop it?” she asked.

  “Look again.” When she squinted at it, he said, “Turn it over.”

  Her face drained of color. “It’s got a hole...”

  “Yeah. It stopped a bullet.”

  She put a hand on her throat. “Were you hurt?”

  “Bruises. Nothing a couple of aspirin won’t take care of. We got the case wrapped up around five yesterday. The first fucking place I went was the cell phone store. Not the shower. Not my bed. Not to get a drink or food. To the phone store.” The idea of burying his dick deep in Jennifer’s wet pussy had kept him sane. The thought of flogging her had been a lifeline in the chaos. The memory of holding her while they talked had soothed the savageness of his emotions.

  “That’s almost worse than getting shot,” she said, with a wry twist to her lips.

  “Not by much.” He’d spent days working his ass off to get back to her, thought about her when he shouldn’t have, used the knowledge that he’d see her again as motivation to press through to the end of the case.

  He crouched in front of her, being more real with her than he’d ever been with any woman. Jennifer deserved it. “You were the only thing I thought about. I’m a man of my word. If I say I will call, I will. Unless I can’t. I’ll prove it to you, and I’ll make it up to you.”

  She stared at him as if trying to decide whether to trust him.

  “Then you didn’t answer my texts or my calls. Around ten last night, I called Joe. He told me to give you time. So I called Noelle. She refused to give me any information. But she tried to call you. I went over there two hours ago, and she was getting as concerned as I was. She finally convinced Joe to give me your address. At that point, it didn’t matter. I was going to use all my connections to find you.” Logan softened the tone of his voice and took one of her hands. “I knocked on the door. Rang the bell.”