Mister X

by Shae Sullivan

  It’s childish and self-indulgence to be worrying about this now, but thinking about her and the look in her blue eyes is nearly enough to send me into a blind panic.

  “Logan,” my father says crisply, breaking my train of thought. “And what do you think about all of this?”

  The look on Peter’s face is plain: say you love it, say you’ve never been happier.

  I swallow and nod briefly.

  “It’s great,” I say. “Everything’s just great.”

  After lunch, Peter goes back to the hotel to take a nap and my father disappears into the Vegas crowd. He stands out for a long time, his greying blonde hair visible among the throng of tourists. Vegas doesn’t suit my father – he’s much more at home in no bullshit, no frills American cities like Chicago or Detroit. Places where a man can be a man and not have to worry about seeing other men in eyeshadow or glitter. Places where the expectations are laid out from the beginning.

  I should be exhausted: it’s been over twenty-four hours since I slept. I’m wired, though, and the espresso I had after lunch is only making that worse. The sun is hidden behind clouds and likewise, the Strip seems more subdued than usual. The tourists are fat and Midwestern, middle-aged women with bad dye jobs and Wal-Mart clothes instead of young blonde girls in sequined minidresses and heels. I barely notice them, though – all I can think about Alyssa. I find myself walking down the Strip, past the casinos and restaurants, with my eyes glued to the sidewalk.

  I don’t even know where I’m going until I find myself standing in front of Alyssa’s building. How difficult would it be to go inside, to tell her everything. To say, look: I know this is crazy, but run away with me. Hire someone else to manage AngelDate and forget about your life here and make a new one with me. Be my sub and my heart and my life.

  I stare up at her window, wondering if she’s inside. What is she doing, pacing around and muttering under her breath? Curled up on the couch, thinking about me?

  The sun comes out from behind a thick cover of clouds and with it, the valves of my heart close. Even if I were to go to Alyssa and say those things, what would she do other than laugh in my face? She’s with me for the money and even though I can tell she has a good time when I’m taking control of her lithe body, would she be doing it if I wasn’t funding her dream?

  No.

  I doubt she would.

  Muttering a curse under my breath, I hunch my shoulders around my ears and turn away, slouching back into the anonymous crowds of Vegas.

  Chapter 13

  Alyssa

  A week goes by where I don’t hear from Logan, and by the end, I’m nearly panicking. He’s probably busy, doing whatever ... mysterious rich person things he does, I keep telling myself.

  I try to stay busy. Focus on AngelDate, talk to Caro, check in with the programmers. Everything is going so well that we should be able to launch by the end of the month. On the outside, things are going so well that I know I should be happy.

  But inside, I’m going crazy.

  It’s almost like Logan has become an essential part of my life, someone I need to actually function. Before him, I never considered kinky sex or letting some guy dominate me.

  It’s come to mean so much more than sex, though. Being with Logan is the one time I can truly let my hair down and let loose and feel free. When he ties me up, when he blindfolds me, when he gags me and tells me not to move, it’s almost like he’s giving me freedom to be myself.

  It’s addictive, and now I’m worried that I’ll never see him again.

  Just when I’ve almost given up hope, I get a text from Logan telling me to meet him at his hotel. It’s more brief than usual, just a time and his signature ‘X’ at the end of the text.

  Reading it sends a shiver down my spine and I take a quick shower and pull on a loose dress with no panties or bra beneath it – not exactly a wild look for Vegas, but knowing that I’ll see Logan soon is making my pussy throb and I want him to know just how wet I am.

  When I get to his hotel room, the door is slightly ajar. I push it open and step inside, my eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness. I blink slowly, unable to see Logan anywhere.

  That’s when I sense him standing behind me, his powerful muscular presence. He closes the door with a soft click and a shiver of anticipation runs down my spine as I hear him draw the deadbolt and chain.

  “Are you ready for me?” Logan asks. He leans closer, breathing hotly on my ear and making me tremble. I want him so much – I want to turn around and embrace him, pull him close and hold him, but I know that if I don’t stay rooted to the spot, he won’t touch a hair on my head.

  I nod slightly.

  “Good girl,” Logan growls. He steps closer and I smell a wave of his musky cologne. He puts his hands on my waist, massaging me through the thin cotton of my dress. I shiver and shake, breathing hard as my heart starts to beat faster and faster. My pussy is soaking wet and my clit starts to throb as Logan’s hands move lower and lower, until they reach the hem of my dress. In one single, smooth motion he pulls it over my head and throws it to the side.

  Now that I’m naked, the hotel suite feels chill and cold. My nipples pucker and stiffen and I gasp softly as Logan moves his hands to the front of my body and gently brushes my nipples, then lower, touching my belly and dragging his nails along the insides of my thighs.

  “You’re mine, you know that,” Logan growls in my ear. All I can do is whimper and nod as he presses his mouth to my neck and bites me hard. Gasping as the pain mixes with the pleasure and arousal flowing through my body, I shake as Logan takes me in his arms and carries me across the room. Against his muscular bulk, I feel weightless and vulnerable. Logan deposits me on the bed and my limbs splay out. I’m lying on my back, looking up at his hulking figure.

  “I don’t quite know what I want to do with you right now,” Logan drawls deeply. Our eyes lock and I shiver. Lusty fire is racing through my veins and a moan escapes my lips as I think of all the delicious things Logan could do to me.

  Logan moves to the end of the bed and rummages through a black leather bag. He holds up two long bars, slightly narrower than baseball bats, and fixed with a cuff at each end.

  Then, he grins at me and moves between my legs. I can feel his hot breath on my inner thigh and I moan, arching my back and shoving my pussy towards him, but he doesn’t touch me. Instead, he fastens a cuff around each of my ankle. I find that with the spreader bar between my legs, I can move my knees from side to side but I can’t bring my ankles together. My legs are held wide open, splayed and vulnerable for Logan, and I can feel my juices trickling down my open pussy lips. It’s both sexy and humiliating and a hot blush burns my face as Logan looks down at my with satisfaction.

  “That’s better,” he says. He moves to the side of the bed and lifts my arm up before fastening similar cuffs to my wrists. Instead of putting a bar between my arms, he tethers the cuffs on my wrists to my ankles, rendering me almost completely immobile with my shoulders squared and my tits pushing forward like a slut’s. It feels so wanton, so forbidden, so sexy that I’m panting before he’s even touched me.

  “You look so beautiful like that,” Logan says. He runs a hand down my body, gently slapping my stiff nipples and making me cry out. “All spread out and waiting for me,” he continues, musing more to himself than to me. “I should leave you like this, for hours. Let housekeeping find you, or better yet, leave the door open and let some frat boys in here and have their way with you.”

  My cheeks flush hotly at his obscene words and I gasp in real fear, but Logan chuckles.

  “But I’m not done with you yet,” he says. “And your pussy smells so fucking good, baby, I know you’re loving this just as much as I am.”

  I shiver with lust, my body tense and shaking as Logan drags his nails down the inside of my thigh. He reaches into the black leather bag once again and I expect him to emerge with a blindfold or his soft flogger or even that metal plug for my ass, but instead his hand grips
a black cane, narrow as a whip, and he grins down at me.

  “This is going to sting so good on your ass, baby girl,” Logan growls. When he flicks the cane through the air, I cry out in anticipation. It hit my ass with a delicious motion, more like a sting than a slap and I gasp hotly.

  “That hurt, baby girl?”

  I nod slightly – it does hurt, but it feels good, too. I can feel the raised line on the cheeks of my ass from where the cane bit me and combined with my throbbing clit, I’m convinced that I’ve never been more aware of a sensation than I am right now. Logan climbs between my legs, kneeling on the spreader bar and forcing my feet and wrists to the bed. I can’t move and my eyes are locked with his as he holds the cane over my pussy, lightly running the tip over my pussy lips.

  I shiver and shudder, shaking and breathing hard. Every nerve ending is tingling, every cell in my body is throbbing with excitement and lust and a small tremor of fear that just makes this even more exciting. When I feel the cane bite the inside of my right thigh, I cry out and screw my eyes shut, bucking and writhing against the spreader bars in vain. There’s no use trying to escape – Logan has me right where he wants me, and I couldn’t leave if I tried. He chuckles, deep in his throat, before caning my other thigh with a sharp, quick movement that makes me cry out.

  “Too much, baby girl?”

  I give a brief shake of my head. In this moment, thinking about anything other than me and Logan is impossible, and I swallow hard as I think about what it would be like to spend the rest of my life in this hotel room.

  Logan slides down my body until he’s facing my pussy. My lips are spread and my clit is throbbing hotly as Logan moves his move closer to it. I gasp as he fastens his lips around my clit and begins to lick and suck. With one hand, he digs his fingers into the cheeks of my ass and holds me firm. With the other, he slides the cane inside my pussy and fucks me with it as his mouth lavishes attention on my sopping clit. It feels explosively good and his tongue is bringing me to the brink of a powerful orgasm when he stops and pulls away. With hunger in his eyes, Logan strips out of his clothes and plunges his cock deep inside of me.

  He fills me so completely, so perfectly that I let out a long shriek of delight. My ass is warm and sore from the caning but Logan’s body slamming against my clit with every powerful thrust fills me with intense delight. I close my eyes as he holds me in place, his cock sliding in and out of my pussy, ramming into me, completing me.

  Making me his, making me whole.

  “Oh my god,” I cry, biting my lower lip until I taste blood. The cane is forgotten, the stinging pain is all but gone as Logan fucks me harder. He buries himself to the hilt in my soaking pussy, then sticks his hand between our bodies and furiously rubs my clit. As it gets more serious for him, he breaks out in a heavy sweat that drips down onto my immobilized frame. I gasp and cry out as his thumb brushes over my clit, stroking me in heavenly circles that make my heart beat faster with every second. Soon, I’m straining against the spreader bar and moaning and screaming, giving myself over to the powerful lust that’s flowing between us like molten lava.

  “Fuck, baby,” Logan grunts. He slams into me, thrusting hard, and I feel my orgasm break over my head like a deafening tidal wave. For a moment, there’s nothing but the paralyzing feeling moving over me and I freeze as wave after wave of ecstasy courses through my veins.

  Logan grunts and his cock twitches and gushes with seed. We come together in an intense, powerful bolt of lightning, and it’s only when my body has stopped pulsing that I realize I’m still restrained, that I still can’t move. Suddenly, pain shoots through my limbs and I whimper, jerking my wrists against the soft leather cuffs.

  Logan pulls out of me and sits up, looking down at me in satisfaction for a moment before uncuffing my wrists. It feels like I’m using my arms for the first time as I lift them up and stretch. I’m still tingling and trembling from the powerful orgasm as Logan unfastens my ankles and slowly stretches out my legs. There are pins and needles in my feet and my hands and I moan as I start to rub the feeling back into my fingers.

  “You were a very good girl,” Logan growls.

  I stare up at him, feeling weak and overpowered and completely spent. That was easily the most intense experience between us, and I want to delay the inevitable, want to stay as long as I possibly can with him. Any moment now, he’s going to toss me my dress and nod for me to leave.

  But he’s not moving, and neither am I.

  To my immense surprise, Logan lays down next to me and drapes an arm over my stomach. I tense up – is this a test?

  “I should go,” I say weakly.

  “Don’t,” Logan whispers into my ear. His voice is thick and laced with sleep, and it soothes me more than it should.

  I’ll just close my eyes, just for a minute, I think as I rest my head on the pillow. After being restrained, it feels so good to let my body sink into the soft mattress, to feel Logan pull the sheet over my bare hips and cover my nakedness.

  Before I can think about what’s happening, I’m falling asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 14

  Logan

  I know that letting Alyssa fall asleep with me was wrong – and in my defense, I didn’t mean to do it. I was just so exhausted, so thoroughly worn out after our last session that I had just meant to lie down and close my eyes. But as soon as my arm wrapped around her svelte body and smelled her sweat and her perfume and heard her soft breathing ...

  Well, fuck.

  She’s gone when I wake up, the bed still smells lightly of her pussy and her hair and it’s all I can do not to bury my face in the pillows and jack off to thoughts of her. Instead, I force myself to go into the shower and stand up the spray of hot water until it turns cold.

  The day ahead isn’t going to be fun. I have a launch party for The Bachelor with Peter and what will probably be a fuck-ton of other people–reporters seeking to tell the story of the “mysterious” Indiana Bandits quarterback who’s on the hunt for a wife, maybe even representatives of my father’s, the whole fucking world.

  Alyssa won’t be there, though. She’s the only person I care about, the only person I want to see. I’m falling for her and I know I need to cut things off soon before they go too far.

  I’m a weak, selfish man for doing this, but in my defense, I think any man would feel the same way. The look in her blue eyes when she completely submits to me, when she tunes out the real world and gives herself over.

  I know now that she’s not just doing it for the money.

  Or rather, if she is, she’s the best fucking actress in the world.

  I get out of the shower and dress in an outfit chosen for me by Peter, a conservative suit with a jacket and tie. Then, I make my way downstairs where a limo is waiting for me in front of the hotel. Peter’s inside, sipping iced tea, and he hands me a glass of champagne.

  “Time to get excited, Logan,” he chirps. “Tonight is gonna be the night!”

  “What night?” I ask cautiously. “What did you do?”

  Peter doesn’t reply – his face is buried in his phone and he’s humming under his breath. I drain the glass of champagne in one gulp, then lean back against the seat and stare out the window as the scenery of Las Vegas flashes by in a messy blur.

  The launch party is at the same mansion just outside of the city where the photo call was, but the atmosphere is wildly different. The sun is just sinking below the desert skyline as the limo pulls into the driveway, and I can see a throng of journalists and reporters with their cameras flashing.

  “Don’t these people have like, something important to actually cover,” I mutter under my breath.

  Peter glares at me. “There is something important to cover here,” he says in a snippy voice. “You! Logan Hart, Mr. America!”

  If I have to hear one more person call me Mr. America, I think I’m going to lose it.

  “Right,” I say, shaking my head.

  The limo rolls to a stop and I climb out, im
mediately blinded by the flashing cameras. Inwardly, I’m cringing – is my picture going to be on entertainment rags tomorrow?

  Is Alyssa going to see it, and find out who I truly am?

  “Logan, get your head in the game,” Peter hisses in my ear.

  I plaster a smile on my face and wave to the cameras, hurrying inside as quickly as I can. To my surprise, I’m not immediately thronged with women. They’re all here, sitting on couches, but they don’t look too pleased to see me.

  “Hi, ladies,” I say, raising an eyebrow. Sick of me already? And the show hasn’t even started taping, I think. The thought is funny, and I can’t help laughing as one of them shoots me a disgusted look.

  “You didn’t tell us she would be here,” one of them, a redhead, says. She gets to her feet and she’s wearing a green minidress that leaves little to the imagination.

  “Yeah,” three of the other women echo. “This isn’t fair.”

  “I don’t get it,” I say. Turning around, I see a platinum with a wicked smile walking towards me in impossibly high heels. Her shiny black dress hugs her fake tits and tight belly, and the look in her eyes is like that of lion approaching a wounded antelope She looks somewhat familiar, but I can’t place her.

  Then, Peter appears. He smiles at all of the women.

  “Ladies, I don’t think the newest addition to the Bachelor house needs an introduction,” he says. “Logan, this is Stella McKinney.”

  The name doesn’t mean anything to me, but immediately all of the other women in the room start pouting and sniping under their collective breaths.

  “Stella was the runner-up on the last season of The Bachelor,” Peter says, giving me a sharp look.

  “And I was hated by everyone,” Stella says, simpering and laughing. The other women in the room all let out a groan and she walks towards me, fixing her eyes on my chest.