Linger (4 page)

Scarlett drew herself up as tall as she could. She was of average height for a woman, and the four-inch heels on her boots still just barely brought her to eye level with him.

But power wasn't all about size. And when she arched an eyebrow coolly at Logan, watched the flicker of nerves turn to blue flame in his eyes, she got the first punch of that headiness that came with a true power exchange.

“For this evening, you
will
use that word if you need to.” She didn't ask him to; asking would cede a modicum of power back to him.

It was time to delve deeper. Watching the guarded expression that began to creep over Logan's handsome features, Scarlett felt herself grow weak in the knees, and that had never happened before for her—never.

This beautiful man had depth, had secrets, and she wanted
to unwrap him layer by layer. Enough that she had pursued him, even though she had a sense that her heart might hurt when she walked away from him at the end of the night.

It was time for her to start, really start, peeling away the layers of control that he was so very obviously hugging tightly to that broad, delicious chest.

“You have your safe word. The club safe word is red. Now, strip.”

L
ogan steeled himself against the pang of apprehension that reverberated through him as Mistress S stood, waiting.

Now strip.

He'd figured they would get naked tonight—had counted on it. Only in release would he find the solace that he came to Vegas for.

But the look in those wide, expressive gray eyes confirmed his suspicions that this woman—this lithe, sweet, gorgeous woman—had plans for him that might be a bit rougher on him than he'd anticipated.

He had never used his safe word. Never had to—he never gave a Mistress access to the places inside of him that he wanted to guard. Now it was a point of pride.

She could do anything to his body, and he would take it. But his soul was his own. It was the only way he'd found to survive.

The calm control on the young woman's face resonated with something inside of him. Where normally he would have had a smart-ass comeback, instead he found his fingers working the button at the waist of his jeans.

“How did you know my safe word?” He didn't much like that she did. His chosen word told more about his history than he'd have liked, secrets only Luca now knew, and he'd never given it to a Mistress before, since he'd never had any intention of needing it.

“A good Mistress will know everything about you, Logan.” Scarlett gestured to the computer screen on the wall, the one she'd been looking at when he'd entered. “Plus Veritas has a new system. All of your information is stored in there. Easier for me to understand the basics about you so that we can move on to more . . . pleasurable pursuits.”

Her words made his cock swell as he pushed his jeans down his hips, around his ankles, and let them fall to the floor. He'd been hard since she'd laid him flat and removed his boots with her own hands, but now, as her gaze worked him over from head to toe, he felt a searing attraction that brought his erection to the point of pain.

Her eyes darkened as she watched, and he knew that she liked what she saw. He wasn't modest—he had a good body from all of the physical labor he did back on the ranch.

But this—this thing that sizzled between them—it was more than just physical attraction . . . and it brought him out of his comfort zone.

He knew what drew him to submit sexually—after he'd gotten back from overseas, he had tried to exert rigid control over every aspect of his life, and only in sex was he comfortable letting go of that discipline at all. But what drew her to dominate? He'd never cared before, but he found that with this raven-haired angel in front of him, he wanted to understand her better.

What was this to her? A one-night stand, or something more?

He found that, for the first time, he wanted more than just the next few hours. For some reason that was beyond him, he felt a need to please her.

He couldn't have it. He didn't belong here. He couldn't stay.

“Hands behind your head. Feet shoulder width apart.”
Her voice was sweet but underlaid with that steel that made his cock pulse. He did as she said, forcing himself to be still as she circled him, looked him up and down.

Those delicate fingers reached out in a graceful yet clearly possessive touch. The feel of her hand sliding over his skin, even in that innocent touch, made him shudder.

She touched him gently, starting at his shoulders, then his stomach, down to his hip bones, as though she had a right . . . which he supposed she did. He'd given it to her.

But when she traced one fingernail down the raised ridge of scarred flesh on his back, he flinched away.

“Don't,” he snapped. He should have had that in his list of hard limits—no touching his scar. No asking questions about his scar. But he didn't have a list of hard limits—not one he'd ever written down. He'd simply never let anyone take him past the point where he wanted to go.

His gut told him that if he tried his usual tricks with this pretty little Domme, she would tell him to run along and find someone else to play with, no matter what strange attraction vibrated between them. Like that other Mistress who'd approached him . . . Mistress Avery.

Any man with half a brain would be terrified of that woman. And more than that . . .

He wanted this one, this firecracker whom he couldn't keep his eyes off. He knew that when he was back at the ranch, when he needed something to get him through the long months until he was strong enough to brave a city again, he would palm himself and think of her.

Mercifully, Mistress S didn't push, didn't ask him about his scar, though he could see her filing it away in her brain for future use. There was safety in that, because in the future he would be gone.

She ripped that security blanket away with her next words.
“Get on your hands and knees. I'm going to get familiar with your body.”

“What?” Logan couldn't stop the question in time.

What did that mean, exactly?

She gave him that look again—that bitchy one that said he'd better get moving. The one that made him even harder.

But beneath her bitchy tone, he sensed there was need riding her as much as it was him. Maybe that was why he did as she said, though his every sense was on alert. He fixed his eyes straight ahead—he might not have been the most obedient submissive, but he was an experienced one who knew the rules.

Closing his eyes, he simply listened as she walked back and forth, the heels of those boots that accentuated her long legs clicking on the tiled floor, lulling his thoughts into that first wave of calm that came with even the most superficial submission. The slither of silk hitting the floor, then a liquid sound—something being poured—and then more steps, growing louder, approaching him.

He fought the urge to rear up when she straddled him. The slither of silk that he'd heard had been Mistress S removing her skirt, and now he could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her panties, pressing against the small of his back.

“Why did you choose me, Logan?” As she spoke, she poured a handful of warm liquid across his shoulder blades. As it trickled over the planes of his back, it made Logan imagine arousing Mistress S to the point where she became that wet herself.

No question, this woman was getting under his skin. He couldn't have that, no matter how much he might want it.

So he made sure that his words were cocky, a smirk on his lips as he replied, though the touch of her fingers as she spread
the warm, scented oil over his skin made him want to groan with pleasure.

“You're way hotter than that scary Domme.” He hissed as the heels of those wicked boots dug into his rib cage.

Good. He wanted her to punish him. Maybe if he goaded her enough, she would do as he'd expected—take one of the floggers from the wall, beat him until they were both sweaty and quivering with need. He could lose himself in the beautiful pain, and afterward in what he was sure would be the hottest fuck of his life.

But . . . wait. . . . She was sliding off of him, humming her disapproval. She circled him, each step slow and sure, then crouched down in front of him, grabbed his chin in her hand, and forced him to look her in the eye.

Damn, but she had beautiful eyes. Large, expressive, a beautiful stormy gray color. They were surrounded by long, thick lashes that seemed gold and caramel and ebony all at once, which told him that she wasn't wearing any of that goop that women painted on.

He could get lost in those eyes.

But he couldn't afford to.

She pinned him with her stare, and he felt like a cornered animal, turning wary and defensive.

“What are you looking for, Logan?” She looked like she truly wanted to know, not just to break him down, but because she was interested.

“Whatever pleases my Mistress.” The glib answer slid from his lips before he could think it through. A defense mechanism. Logan was startled at the trickle of shame that worked its way through him when she pursed her lips in disappointment.

The hint of defeat was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by grim determination. “Well, then. You'll love this.”

S
carlett unclipped the length of chain from her corset and swiftly gathered Logan's hands behind his back. She attached it to the buttery yellow leather cuff on one of his wrists, then the other, binding his hands behind his back.

She was glad she'd done it quickly when he reared back on his knees and looked over his shoulder at her. He was wily, and he was smart, and he'd outmaneuver her if she gave him half a chance.

It was tempting to let him do it, to grab onto the lust that hung heavy in the air, to sink into it. To let herself get burned by the electrical current of passion surging between them, because she knew it would be worth it.

Despite the temptation, she knew she would be cheating them both if she did. Plus he was starting to piss her off, though that didn't completely detract from the need that was riding her.

Reaching for the chains on the heavy wooden bench that sat on the edge of the room, Scarlett secured the ends to the length that held Logan's hands behind his back. Glaring at him—he was making her temper rise with his refusal to cooperate, and with it her level of arousal—Scarlett stalked across the room to where she'd dropped her toy bag.

Though vanilla sex had never really done it for her, she suspected that even without toys, any kind of joining with Logan would be off-the-charts hot. But that wasn't what either of them had come here for.

It was damn hard for her to be the strong one, to resist, when all she wanted was to fist her hand in his hair and plunder that smart mouth.

Focus.

Slowly, purposefully, she bent down to open the bag. The four-inch heels meant she had to reach farther, but even
though she wouldn't be doing splits in the air anytime soon, she was still pretty damn flexible.

Scarlett stifled a laugh at Logan's groan. The whole point of bending in this ridiculous way was to let him see the outline of her ass, clear enough through the lace panties that she wore.

To give him a hint of the reward he could have if he submitted.

“Mistress . . .” Logan's voice was a rasp, and the desire she heard there made her knees weak. “Mistress, let me touch you.”

Scarlett remained silent as she pulled the two items that she wanted from her bag. Ripping open the foil package, she removed the condom, tossed the wrapper aside, then straightened back up and returned to Logan.

The sight of him, naked, bound, and at her feet, nearly brought her to her knees. He was just gorgeous, even though he was a far cry from the kind of man she'd see in a magazine. He was raw, and rough, exuding masculinity—he made her think of the outdoors, of manual labor, of sweat and hot, hot sex.

But no hot sex just yet. She had work to do, though ignoring their connection was becoming harder every minute.

“Don't move.” Dropping to her knees in front of him, Scarlett bent and, without warning, pulled the head of his cock between her lips and began to suck, keeping her stare locked on his own.

His taste flooded her mouth, and she held back her own moan. It was addictive—she already wanted more.

She wanted it all.

“What—oh God.” Logan's body jerked as he tried to pull away from her, then again as his hips pressed forward. Gently, Scarlett sank her teeth into the tender skin just below his corona, and he froze at the warning.

Though he held still, he couldn't seem to keep back the
noises of pleasure. Scarlett placed her full attention on her task, though she wanted to take her time, to savor the salty taste rolling around on her tongue, wanted to savor the feeling of his heat pulsing in her mouth. But she needed to bring him to the brink, as fast and hard as possible.

She never let her submissives come in her mouth. Ever—it was a rule.

But with Logan—she wanted to drink him down, wanted to possess every bit of him that she could have.

“Mistress—oh. Please.
Please
.” The sudden hitch in his breath told Scarlett that he was on the verge of coming.

He cursed, long and loud, when she forced herself to slide her mouth off his cock and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. His taste remained on her tongue, teasing her as she quickly rolled the condom down the impossibly hard length.

“I didn't take you for a cock tease.” Logan glared at her, his skin flushed, his jaw clenched.

“Don't be bitchy,” she commented mildly, then followed the condom with a silicone cock ring. Securing it snugly at the base of his cock, Scarlett inhaled deeply, savoring the sight of his erection, which looked nearly painful, it was so engorged.

When he swore again, she stood, then bent and tucked a finger beneath his chin. His eyes spat fire as she tilted his face up, causing her pulse rate to accelerate, but she was pleased that, despite his rage, he didn't pull at his bindings.

“We're going to take a little break now,” she told him softly, arching her back to give him a good view down the front of her corset. A strangled sound emanated from his throat.

“I don't need a break,” he replied mulishly, not bothering to hide the hungry gaze that devoured her ample cleavage. “I can take anything you give me.”

“I hope so.” Scarlett took one step backward, then another.
Oh, it was hard to walk away from him, even though she knew she would come back.

“I'll be back once you've had some time to think.”

T
he woman had left him chained to a bench, slick with oil, with a boner that, thanks to the cock ring, couldn't recede.

He shouted after her, ground his teeth, and raged inside his own head, and then Logan sat back on his heels, stunned.

Mistress S might look all sweetness and light, but he'd never met a dominant woman with such iron balls. He admired it—and desired it.