Linger (20 page)

Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and her jaw ached as she rode his bucking body. But though he thrust, and thrust again, no liquid flooded her mouth, his climax expressed solely through the shudders of his body.

Making a humming noise, she held tight as he thrust furiously into her mouth, wilted back against the bench, only to be overcome by a series of shudders once again.

When he finally stilled, Scarlett remained frozen in place for a long moment before she leaned back and let his cock fall from her mouth. Her knees ached and her eyes were full of tears, but as she looked up at Logan and saw the uncharacteristic laxity of his facial muscles as he inhaled, she wondered if she had done it. Or if maybe she had gone too far.

“Shh,” she whispered as she stood stiffly, securing the top of her dress in place once again. Her own fingers were shaking from the raw intensity of what had just happened and from second-guessing herself as she undid the fastenings that held Logan to the bench. He slumped back, his muscles seeming too weak to even support himself upright.

“You did well,” she whispered as she brushed a sweaty lock of hair out of his eyes—eyes that were wide and filled with the wonder of a child. And he had. She could tell he was cruising very close to subspace, that wonderful headspace that came
with the rush of endorphins after an intense scene—a place she was fairly certain no Domme had ever been able to take him.

But she'd pushed him there, had taken him to the edge of her own limits, and still he hadn't used his safe word. Hadn't faced the demons in his soul.

She had failed him. She wasn't strong enough for him.

“Scarlett,” Logan whispered hoarsely as the last of the bonds fell away. For her own pleasure, and more, to bring herself some calm, Scarlett ran her hands over Logan's chest, the lines of his hip bones, down the length of his cock.

She avoided his eyes.

“Scarlett.”

Her heart thudded in her chest when Logan tangled his fingers in her own and brought their entwined hands to rest on his chest. Beneath her palm she felt the quick, steady
thump, thump, thump
of his heart.

Logan lowered his head until their foreheads pressed together. Scarlett felt her pulse skitter in her veins when those blue eyes of his looked directly into hers, the shutters deep within them finally gone.

“Bunker,” he whispered hoarsely. “Red.”

T
he rhythmic thumping of Luca's flogger as it struck the skin of Bren's back echoed up the stairs as Scarlett helped Logan to his bedroom.

Earlier this evening he'd been ready to flay his friend alive for coming into his home and treating him like a submissive. But now he saw that he should thank him.

Not that he would. Or else maybe later. Right now his legs were so weak that he was having enough trouble walking.

He was so exhausted it hurt. That was why, he assured
himself, he made no protest when Scarlett led him to the bed, pulled back the worn quilt, and then tucked it back in around his naked body.

“I'm going to take a shower,” she said softly, and though her demeanor radiated calm, in the depths of those wide eyes of hers, he could see the same shock that reverberated through him.

Later he would welcome some time alone, to think about what had happened. But for now . . .

For now his body, his soul accepted what his brain would have trouble with later—that he had finally, completely surrendered.

Before panic could set in, Logan followed his impulse and slid from the bed. For a brief moment he thought about trying to join Scarlett in the shower, and he was swayed both by the thought of her naked in the shower, water streaming over her breasts, and by the temptation of getting clean, of rinsing all the frustration and fear and anger down the drain. A baptism, kind of.

A really kinky one.

But in the end, he followed the urge that had pulled him from bed in the first place.

Padding across the hardwood, Logan chose a place at the end of the bed and knelt on the floor. Arranging his hands palm-side up against his thighs, he sat back on his heels and waited.

When Scarlett came out of the bathroom, followed by a cloud of steam, he sensed her pause rather than saw it, because his stare was trained on the ground.

And then her bare feet were in front of him. He could just make out her shapely calves, and the smell of his own soap was teasing at the inside of his nose.

“Logan.” Her voice resonated in his gut, and when she
urged him with a press of her fingers along his jaw, Logan looked up, really
looked
at this woman who had crashed into his life like a wrecking ball, tearing down everything he knew to be true.

She was so delicate-looking—the stereotype of the ballerina that she'd once been.

But he'd never met anyone so strong, anyone whom he'd trust to hold him up when his own strength faltered.

It was humbling.

It was terrifying.

It was amazing.

Words failing him, he just let himself look. Her cheeks were flushed with heat from the shower and free of any makeup, hair wet and tangled and dripping on the floor—and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

“Come.” Holding out her hand, Scarlett waited for Logan to rise from the floor. His instinctual reaction was to do it himself, but then he saw the symbolism behind her extended hand.

He
could
do it by himself, sure. But he didn't have to.

“There. Was that so hard?” A smile in her voice, Scarlett pulled him to her once he was standing, wrapping her arms around his waist. Wanting more contact, and since he would have had to stoop just to rest his chin on her head, Logan let his hands fall to the round curves of her ass, naked beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt, which she'd pulled on after her shower.

Scarlett squeaked with surprise as he lifted her, then wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Is this okay?” Logan pressed his forehead to hers as he slowly carried her to the bed. He wasn't entirely sure what she expected from him now.

But what he'd intended as simply a show of affection was
rapidly, impossibly heating his blood yet again. From somewhere he found a reserve of energy that kept him going. The way he held her had the delicious heat between her legs pressing against his cock and causing it to stir back to life, and with her arms around him, her smell assaulting his senses, he was overwhelmed with the need to express physically what he was feeling in his heart.

Scarlett's soft, steady breathing hitched when he slowly slid her down the length of his body, placing her on her knees on the bed. Reaching for the hem of her T-shirt—
his
T-shirt—he waited before pulling it over her head, his eyes searching hers for permission.

“Go ahead.” She smiled and held her arms up to help as he tugged the cotton up and away, throwing it over his shoulder. Hesitantly, he traced his fingers over the delicate lines of her collarbone.

“Is this . . . I mean . . . may I touch you?” Logan had had plenty of sex in his teens and early twenties, and he had always been the aggressor. Since returning from overseas, a series of frustrating, failed encounters in which he felt driven to be both passive and aggressive had led to Luca taking him to his first BDSM club, thinking that he might be dominant.

Instead he'd found the most satisfaction playing the submissive to a dominant woman, and he hadn't had a vanilla encounter in more than a decade.

And while he wouldn't label anything that he did with Scarlett as vanilla, since they both had their established roles, he was a little uncertain of how to proceed without all of the props that kink provided.

“Logan.” Taking his hand, Scarlett mimicked what he had done downstairs, linking her fingers in his and pulling his hand to cover her heart. The steady thump of its beat soothed him, lured him, like a siren with its steady consistency.

“Just do what feels right. What feels good.” Smiling, she bent forward to place a kiss on his chest, the highest point that her lips could reach.

Her next words floored him. “I trust you.”

Logan blinked, his mind whirling, searching for the perfect way to respond, to tell her what that meant to him.

Words eventually failing him, he did the next best thing, tangling his hands in the damp tendrils of her hair, tilting her face up, and kissing her.

“Oh.” Scarlett sighed against his mouth, and he inhaled the sweet scent of her breath. Her lips parted beneath his, opening for him, and Logan let his tongue slide over the front of her teeth.

The kiss heated in a slow simmer that finally had them both gasping for breath. Logan savored the way that she shuddered when he let his hand close over her breast, his thumb playing over her nipple.

When he sank his teeth delicately into the curve of her shoulder, she cried out, reaching up to fist her hand in his hair, tugging not so gently, urging him to do more.

Logan couldn't quite hold back his grin. Scarlett had the decency to look abashed.

“I like to be in control.” She shrugged, let her eyes narrow playfully. “That's nothing new.”

“Maybe not.” Pulling back, Logan let his eyes wander over her entirely, from the top of her dark head to where her knees pressed into the mattress, and all of the luscious skin in between.

He wanted to explore. He wanted to taste.

He wanted to
learn
her the way she'd learned him.

“No, you being in control is nothing new. But all of this is, for me.” Clasping her around the waist, appreciating the soft
curve of her belly, Logan lifted her, then laid her back down on the bed.

Eyes locked on hers, he pulled her until her hips rested just over the edge of the bed. He watched her every step of the way, silently asking for permission as he knelt on the floor, hooking first one leg, then the other over his shoulders.

He waited one more moment, giving her a chance to say no.

“Please.” Propping herself up on her elbows, Scarlett looked down the length of her body toward where he knelt, his head between her thighs.

“Please what?” He couldn't help the response, grinning as he mimicked the words she'd said to him so many times.

Scarlett mock glowered, drumming her heels on his back.

“Lick me, slave.” She growled at him, arching her hips toward where his lips waited. “You've begged for it often enough. Take your chance before I change my mind.”

“Whatever Mistress wants.” Logan lowered his head, nuzzled his nose into the soft curve of her belly. He could smell her—that spicy hint of arousal that he'd scented every time she'd played with him.

His body tightened with anticipation—he thought he could come, just like this, just being so close to what he'd wanted for what felt like forever.

He heard Scarlett sigh as he parted her thighs, then blew a warm breath over her glistening labia. He wanted to devour her whole, but something inside of him was forcing him to take it slow.

To savor.

“Logan.” He could hear how difficult it was for her to hold back the commands, to let him explore, and he appreciated the gift.

But he also wanted to give her every bit as much pleasure as she had given him. So he lowered his head and put his mouth on her, making sure to keep the caress frustratingly light.

She arched when he used his thumbs to hold her open and circled her clit with his tongue, her back curving up off the bed, a gasp escaping from her lips.

“
Logan
.”

He couldn't hold back a smile as he intensified the pressure of his tongue. He knew that this woman would never beg, but hearing the need pulling her voice tight was every bit as satisfying.

Applying himself to his task, he licked, long slow swipes of his tongue, then flattened his tongue and brushed it over her swollen nub with a series of hard, quick flickers.

Scarlett propped herself up on her elbows to watch, her gaze catching his as he slid two fingers inside of her, groaning himself when he felt the snug heat suck at his hand.

He held the eye contact as she began to rock against his hand, surprised that the connection felt almost as good to him as his fingers surely did to her.

Still looking up at her, across that expanse of beautiful creamy skin, Logan intensified the pressure of his tongue and began to slide his fingers in and out. Her lids dropped to half-mast, though she held his stare, and her hips began to rock, pushing her wet heat into his mouth, where he devoured her, his need to possess her rising like a summer storm.

Fuck my mouth
, he wanted to say.
Use me
. But he was afraid to break the spell, to disturb this chance he finally had to take her over the edge.

And he understood now why she'd made him wait.

This was the first time he'd used his mouth on a woman
for the sole purpose of pleasing her. He wasn't using climax as a way to take control.

Above him, Scarlett moaned low in the back of her throat, the rocking of her hips increasing in speed. He continued to slide two fingers in and out of her slick heat, continued to slide the flat of his tongue over the swollen nub of her clit, savoring the taste of her arousal on his tongue.

He slid his free hand across her belly, then up to cover one breast. Catching her nipple between thumb and forefinger, he rolled it tightly, enough to give her a bite of pain, a spark of sensation.

“Aah!” Scarlett cried out, shifting restlessly on the bed. This was the closest that Logan had ever seen her come to losing control, and yet he knew that she was in no way submitting.

Even in this, as he played her body with his hands, his mouth, it was because she had said so. And so Logan was free to channel every dirty thought he'd ever had into driving her higher, ever higher, until her pleasure spiked, and her inner walls clamped down on his fingers and tongue, and she cried out as she shuddered beneath his touch.