Linger (13 page)

She let it fall, closing her grip on his softening erection. His body tensed as the shudders took him over, and the movement tightened his clasp on the vibrating plug.

To Scarlett's amazement, the cock that hadn't yet fully softened went rock solid yet again in her palms. Before she could even move them to stroke down his length, another
body-rocking climax shot through him, and she watched, stunned, as Logan threw back his head, closed his eyes, and released the most earth-shattering groan she'd ever heard.

“No more. Please,” Logan whispered. He tried to fall to his knees, his body twitching with aftershocks. Breaking herself from her trance, Scarlett hurried down from the stool and moved to his back, switching off the vibrator.

Logan moaned softly, and Scarlett bit her lip to keep from wrapping him in her arms. She had a duty to care for him now, but if she'd come to learn anything at all about this man, it was that he would be furious within moments.

He wouldn't welcome an embrace, so she wouldn't press one on him.

He was silent as she dampened a cloth with a bottle of water that had been in her bag, then washed her hands and slowly cleaned his skin. His expression was unreadable but fixed on her, and Scarlett felt her own fast pulse skittering through her veins.

Swallowing thickly, she returned to his ass and slowly removed the plug. He hissed as she did, and she knew the burn would be waking those nerves up all over again.

Setting the plug carefully aside, she moved the cuffs that still bound him.
Click. Click.
Releasing one wrist, she drew the circlet of metal through the loop on the stall wall, then released his other hand.

“Fuck!” With a great snarl, Logan pulled away from her, putting distance between them as fast as he could. “I told you no!”

Scarlett watched, her face set in an impassive line, as he scrambled for his jeans, then his cowboy boots. Picking up the shreds of his T-shirt, he tossed it aside as soon as he noted its ruin.

There were so many things that Scarlett wanted to say. She
wanted to soothe him, to assure him that everything would be all right.

But she'd accomplished her goal—she'd touched that place deep inside of him, the one he kept so carefully guarded. Just a touch, but it was a start. And at the same time she'd taken him out of his own head, given him the respite that he'd asked for.

After the intensity of what had just happened, Scarlett found that she wanted to wrap herself in his embrace. To savor the feeling of closeness.

And as he glowered at her, his body rigid with fury, Scarlett understood that what this particular sub needed right now was space and time.

“I'm going to go inside,” she said, making sure to keep her voice even. She would return to clean up their mess later—she needed to get out of his space. “Do you need anything?”

“I need you to fuck me like you keep promising with your teasing.” Logan spat out the words. His body was rigid with frustration, his fists clenching at his sides.

He was a lot bigger than Scarlett, and he was enraged. But she didn't for a moment think she was in danger.

“If you wanted a quick fuck, you shouldn't have become a submissive,” she reminded him, biting back a grin when he hissed through his teeth. “I'm sure there are plenty of women around here who will give you just that.”

But that's not what you want.
She knew that by now. What he wanted was to submit, to give in to the right Mistress.

He just didn't think he could.

“You're playing with fire,” he taunted, and stepped closer to her, once again dressed in his jeans and boots. Before Scarlett could react, he had his fist clasped in her shirt, and he dragged her up to meet his mouth in a fierce kiss that spoke of heated possession.

“I'm too careful to get burned,” she whispered when he finally broke away. The kiss had singed her skin and told her that he wanted to own her every bit as much as she did him.

It made her soul sing.

He snarled at her words, glaring down at her, then spinning on his heel and stalking away. Scarlett watched him go, her fingers pressed to her lips.

He was breathtaking, the jeans riding low on his hips, the muscles of his chest and back highlighted in the vivid colors of the setting sun.

“Damn.” As he went she realized that, although it was a rule of hers not to ever lie in a power-exchange relationship, she inadvertently had.

She was careful, absolutely. But if she failed—if she couldn't get this particular man to submit, fully and completely . . .

She wouldn't just get burned. She'd be consumed.

S
carlett bit through the crisp skin of her second apple as she reached the top of the stairs and entered her room, closing the door behind her. The scene had left her ravenous, but her emotions were in such a tumble that she wasn't sure she could eat much else.

Letting the tart taste spread out over her tongue, she crossed the floor to the massive window that looked out over the ranch.

Logan was pacing back and forth across the yard, every now and then throwing a mangled tennis ball for Mongo, who would retrieve it with delight.

His stiff steps showed Scarlett that he was in one hell of a foul temper. But he didn't appear to be on the verge of collapsing, so she decided to just leave him be.

She had her own care to see to, she mused as she methodically chewed her apple. Her body was sore, from the hard day of work that she wasn't accustomed to and also from the tension she hadn't known she'd been holding.

The scene in the barn had been more about emotion than sex, at least for her. But that didn't stop her body from being hungry, feeling tight, and aching with physical need.

Knowing that she could shuck off her jeans, lie down on her bed, and take the edge off by herself didn't sit quite right.

Now that she and Logan had started . . . whatever this was . . .

It didn't feel right to do anything unless they did it together.

“You need to focus on work this year, Scar.” She lectured herself as she slowly—stiffly—stripped out of her torn jeans and her filthy T-shirt. When her fingers began to work at the knot in her bandanna, her mind flashed to the memory of Logan's strong, sure fingers tying it around her neck just that morning.

The big, stubborn alpha had blindsided her at a point in her life in which she'd been pretty sure she hadn't wanted the distraction of a full-time sub. No. She was lying to herself—deep in her heart of hearts, that was the one thing she'd always burned for.

A partner. Someone to call her own, something she hadn't had for years, if ever.

But the timing wasn't ideal. She'd had it all planned out.

Obtain doctorate of veterinary sciences.
Check.

Spend year of internship on a ranch, honing her skills with larger animals.
Half check.

Return to Vegas and open her own animal hospital with her newly acquired knowledge and her savings—one of the biggest perks about working with Logan was that room and board were free, on top of her salary.

She'd intended the animal hospital to serve two purposes—one was obvious. And the other . . .

She'd wanted foster kids in the area to have a place to come volunteer, to feel like they had a purpose when life beat them down. To feel the unconditional love of an animal, to give them hope.

Then,
she'd thought—then she could search for that partner she craved.

But if she couldn't get her eye on the prize now, she was going to blow her list out of the water while she was still on point number two.

After tossing her apple core toward the wastebasket,
Scarlett moved to the bathroom. Turning the hot water tap one full twist and the cold a half, she put the plug in the bottom of the porcelain basin and added a capful of the vanilla-scented bubbles she'd placed on the lip of the tub when she'd unpacked.

The water churning into the tub was so loud that she barely heard the knock at her door over the roar.

“Logan.” There was no one else it could be. Her neglected body tightened up, her nipples puckering painfully as the unquenched desire in her body screamed at her to fling open the door and jump his bones.

“Down, girl.” Scarlett couldn't help but laugh at herself as she wrapped her body in her worn terry-cloth robe. The bumpy fabric abraded the sensitive tips of her nipples, making her hiss a breath out through her teeth and heat pool between her legs.

She was pretty sure he wasn't here for sex. More likely, he'd be telling her to pack her bags and get out, that she'd pushed too hard, too fast.

With that thought settling like a stone in her gut, Scarlett tightened the tie of her robe and padded on bare feet to the door.

“Mistress.”

The sight in front of her shocked her silly. Logan was still shirtless, wearing the same jeans he'd been in when she'd left him in the barn. But he'd removed his boots, which was a formal recognition of his submissiveness.

More than that, in one hand he clutched the wine she'd brought and in the other, a wineglass.

Just
one
glass.

Stunned momentarily speechless, Scarlett opened her mouth, then closed it again. Logan's head was bowed, and he just . . . waited, though his body vibrated with tension and need rather than calm.

Waiting for her to speak, she realized in a rush.

“You . . . you may speak.” Her words sounded rusty, as though she hadn't spoken for a very long time.

Logan's gaze flickered up, met her eyes. She nodded, and he lifted his chin.

“I asked you to give me relief, and you did. Gave it the way I needed it. And then I yelled at you. So to apologize, I've brought Mistress some wine,” he said, and though his body trembled, his words were steady.

He cocked his head toward the bathroom, where the rush of water and the vanilla-scented steam billowing out of the open door spoke of her unfinished bath.

“And . . . if the wine pleases Mistress . . . perhaps she will let me wash her back?”

R
elief washed over Logan when Scarlett nodded, though he saw the careful consideration in her eyes.

He followed her into the room, his eyes pinned to the delicious sway of her ass, outlined in worn terry cloth. His fingers itched to touch her, but he wouldn't. Not yet.

It might kill him, though. He wanted to possess her with the thirst of a man thirty years in the desert without a drink.

If he'd come here to find her packing, he wouldn't have been surprised . . . but he'd have been inclined to use some of her toys to tie
her
up until he could convince her otherwise.

“Undress me.” Her words snapped him from his thoughts.

“Yes, Mistress.” Setting the wine bottle and the glass down on the bathroom counter, he moved in front of her, pressing himself against her. Every muscle in his body sighed with relief when he felt her heat warming his skin.

Hesitation played over her features. Then she spoke. “Call me Scarlett.”

Triumph was a physical blow, nearly knocking him to his knees.

She had just given him a gift. He had to make sure that he deserved it.

In this position, he could draw her close, could rest her chin on his shoulder. It felt so blessedly normal—the first normal sexual interaction he'd had with a female for as long as he could remember.

Then he slid his hands between their bodies, his fingers stroking down the cleft between her breasts, eliciting a choked cry from her throat.

“Like this?” Logan pressed his forehead to Scarlett's as his fingers found her belt. They worked at the knot in the fabric, brushing over her lower belly, and she gasped against him.

He couldn't hold back the grin as he pulled the tie from its loops. He wanted more—wanted to hear her voice crest in pleasure, wanted to know he was the one who had brought it to her.

Locking her in his stare, Logan slid the soft, worn fabric of her robe from her shoulders. As it fell to the floor, he clasped his hands at her waist and lifted her up, placing her in the now knee-high water of the tub.

“Logan.” Scarlett didn't sound shocked that he'd been so bold as to pick her up and move her . . . but unless he was way off, the reason that she was here, with him, was because she liked the fact that he wasn't a doormat, that he didn't look to her for his every reason to draw breath.

She'd had her chance at a pliable, perfect sub back at Veritas, with that Bren guy. Hell, looking the way she did, with that delicious dominant streak that she possessed, she could have most any sub she wanted, male or female.

But she was here. And she was using her quiet calm to chip away at his inner fortress, despite the fact that he was giving her quite a time of it.

He owed her . . . not everything, not yet. He couldn't. But . . . something.

His hungry gaze moved over her as she stood in the bath, the heated water pooling around her calves. To his eyes, she was perfect—a woman pulled straight from his fantasies. Her body was slender, but with full hips and breasts . . . her creamy skin, so pale in some places that he could see the amethyst of the veins running beneath . . .

The heart-shaped face that could soften with a smile or smirk while she wielded a flogger . . .

She made him hard and at the same time chipped away at the ice that surrounded his heart.

“I can't guarantee that I'm going to be quite so docile in the morning.” He spoke honestly, and watched the amusement sparkle in her eyes. Linking his fingers in hers, he helped her balance as she slid into the hot water with a blissful groan.

“But right now . . . what you did out there . . .” Logan set his lips, ran his hand through his hair.

What she'd done out there was lay claim to parts of him that he'd done his best to forget even existed. And he was far from calm about it . . . In fact, it felt like an army of ants crawled under his skin when he thought about the way she'd controlled his body despite his efforts at resistance.

But the itching eased when he was around her. And he didn't even have to find the words to tell her, because she nodded with compassion.

He might want to throttle her again in the morning, but right now . . . looking down at his goddess, flushed from steam, so beautiful in her understanding . . .

He was inclined to worship.

“May I pour you a glass of wine?” Logan raised his eyebrows and waggled the bottle at her. When she nodded, he squinted at the label, then inclined his head, then continued.

“While I can't place the exact vineyard, I would say this is an artisan Riesling, nicely concentrated, possibly from Egon Müller. Elegant and sweet with a precise finish, though some might say it would be improved with a hint more acidity.”

Scarlett's eyes widened, and those full, delectable lips of hers fell open with surprise. Logan bit back his smile as he turned around to pour from the bottle he'd opened downstairs. “Was this a gift from Luca?”

“Yes.” Scarlett stretched the word out as Logan poured a stream of straw-colored wine into the glass. He knew that his friend Luca would likely shudder to see the seven-thousand-dollar-plus wine served in a vessel that had been purchased at a drugstore a decade earlier, but Logan didn't keep fancy things around.

He didn't need them—didn't need anything but that wide-open sky.

He turned back, savoring the sight of Scarlett's slender shoulders and damp hair as he handed over the glass, wondering if maybe he was starting to need something else, too.

“You . . . uh . . . you're into wine?” Scarlett's words were careful, like she was afraid of insulting him, and Logan couldn't hold back the laugh anymore.

“Not at all.” Logan knelt next to the tub, reached for the bottle of girly-looking body wash balanced on the porcelain lip. “But I made a visit to Veritas right after the guys first opened. They'd been imbibing their new wares for a good portion of the day, in celebration. When I told them I was really more of a domestic beer kind of guy, they all set out to educate me. Especially Alex.” The memory made Logan laugh again. No matter how bored he'd been by the properties of the various wines they'd carried at Veritas, some of it had sunk in.

“So you've known them a long time.” Scarlett sat up straighter, the tips of her breasts just barely hidden beneath
the bubbles. A good thing, too, because Logan's fingers itched to touch.

“I met Elijah and Alex that night, the grand opening of In Vino Veritas.” Logan forced himself to keep his eyes focused on the woman in front of him, though when he saw where the subject was leading, he wanted to turn and run. “Luca . . . I've known Luca for twelve years. We were in the army together.”

The words hurt to say—the memories from that time were something he never spoke of. Not ever.

But this woman wanted more from him. He might regret it in the morning, but right now . . .

He'd give her something, while he was able to.

“The army. Is that where you got your safe word from?” He felt Scarlett's stare on him, knew those eagle eyes of hers were soaking in every detail of his countenance.

Damn it. He should have known she'd pick up on that detail. Of course, the word held far more significance than just a simple army reference.

And right in that moment, when he felt so very close to her, he thought that maybe, someday, he could tell her all of it.

For now, though . . . nodding yes in answer to her question was more than he'd even thought possible before. And she didn't press, instead regarding him over the edge of her glass as she paused before sipping her wine.

When she moaned with pleasure, Logan felt his cock, which had been at least half erect since she'd stood naked before him, rise and stand tall, pressing uncomfortably against the front of his jeans.

“Oh, that's lovely,” she murmured as she took another greedy sip, and Logan wasn't sure if she was referring to the wine or his erection. Then she pinned him with her stare, a butterfly on a board, and all he could see was her. “Well?”

She was making him stupid. He blinked. “Well, what?”

Arching an eyebrow, she shifted in the tub. This time her nipples appeared, peeping through the foam of the bubble bath, teasing him, and Logan couldn't hold back the moan.

Scarlett grinned at the sound. “Well . . . you told me something about you. Aren't you going to ask the same of me?”