Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories (13 page)

She opened for him, and he accepted her silent invitation.

Their tongues met, and he tasted the headiness of champagne—the seductive sweetness of her surrender.

As he claimed her, devoured her, she moaned a little and pressed herself against him.

It ignited his desire.

Logan raised his knees, adjusting her balance, pitching her toward him, allowing him to explore her more and drive his cock deeper into her hot cunt.

She murmured something he couldn’t make out. Maybe
yes
. Maybe
more
. But there was no mistaking the way she clung to him, rocking back and forth, silently inviting him to fill her pussy.

Reluctantly he ended the kiss and traced a series of smaller ones across her shoulder.

“Fill me,” she said.

He moved his hands, digging his fingers into her ass, making sure she knew she was his.

Her sigh told him she understood.

Logan pistoned his hips, fucking her with short, fast motions. Everything he gave, she took hungrily, asking for more.

He heard the change in her breathing, felt the heat of her skin.

“I need...”

“Wait,” he said. Her pussy muscles clenched around him, urging him precariously close to an orgasm.

“I don’t want to,” she protested, angling forward.

He tightened his grip.

“Master Logan.” Her words were desperate, a plea. Something he’d never be able to deny her.

He lifted her, then said, “
Now.
” He thrust his hips, surging up into her, seeking her G-spot.

She cried out. Screaming his name, she gripped him tight as she came.

He held back for another few seconds, the denial uncomfortable and exhilarating as she writhed on his cock.

When her body went slack, he protectively crushed her against him, a hand in the middle of her back as she gulped for air.

“That...” She exhaled. “Mmm...”

He grinned. “Satisfied, little sub?”

In response, she kissed the side of his neck.

“We’re not done,” he said.

“I was hoping we weren’t.”

He adjusted their position slightly, and she dug her toes into the floor to lift herself a few inches. She curled her hands around his shoulders while he pounded into her.

Her cunt was wet, tight. All of a sudden, he was questioning the sanity of avoiding a relationship for so long.

He went deep, impaling her.

“Fuck.” She groaned. “I like the way you do me, Sir.”

It wasn’t just any woman he’d missed, he realized. It was a woman like her, one who was willing to ask for what she wanted, willing to take it.

Logan’s balls drew up. Waiting was exquisite torture.

“Yes,” she said.

He gave a final thrust, pulling her down, making her take all of him. She cried out and leaned back, enough for him to reach one of her nipples and tweak it.

“Sir!” She clenched her ass cheeks, and the motion was drove his orgasm.

He ejaculated in spurts that made him shudder and squeeze her tight.

“That, Sir, hit a few of my fantasy buttons,” she said when he opened his eyes to see her looking at him with a smile.

“We’ve got all night,” he said. “Let’s see if we can push a few more.”

Chapter Five

––––––––

T
he idea was enough to make her dizzy.

Being with Logan had been everything she could have imagined, and oh, so much more.

Jennifer accepted his help as she stood. She swayed to one side, and he immediately put his hands on her waist.

“Do you need to sit?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I just stood too fast.” But it wasn’t only that. Her mind was swimming from everything she’d just experienced.

When she’d attended the movie with the Divas, her group of friends, she’d fantasized about what it would be like to be under the control of a powerful man who would guide and support her.

Brett had been okay in bed, enough to get her off, but there had been no adventure. Often the lights had been off or, at the very least, dim. Most times, they’d even done it beneath the sheets. He had never been as direct as Master Logan, never studied her the way he did, never pushed her beyond her comfort level into new levels of awareness and arousal.

“Better?” Logan asked, looking at her through narrowed eyes.

She pushed back the unruly lock of hair from her forehead and nodded.

He quirked an eyebrow.

“I mean, I’m fine. Thank you, Sir.” Part of her was thrilled by his insistence on formality. He was right. It kept the outside world separate from what they were sharing. To her, that made this more intimate.

She expected him to release his grip, but he didn’t right away. For the moment, it was nice to feel protected.

He studied her face, as if reassuring himself, before saying, “Let’s get you upstairs and maybe into a shower.”

She nodded.

When he released her, she reached for her underwear.

“You won’t be needing any of that until tomorrow.”

Freezing, she looked at him. “You want me naked?”

“Unless otherwise instructed. Yes.” He stood.

Until now, she hadn’t noticed how much he towered over her. Taking off her shoes and facing him made her cognizant of his size, strength, and overwhelming domination. He stole her breath.

“But you are welcome to take your belongings upstairs. My things as well.”

The implied intimacy sent a shock wave through her.

He disposed of the condom. Even without an erection, he had an impressive cock.

As if on cue, she became aware of a tingling between her legs that told her she’d be sore tomorrow. She grinned, unable to remember the last time
that
had happened, if it ever had. In her experience, no other man was his equal.

Logan straightened up the play area, removing his cuffs from the cross and dropping them into the bag. Then he picked up the wicked clamps. “How were they?” he asked.

“I’m...glad we used them.”

He continued to regard her, clearly waiting for her to go on.

“They were intense. Almost too much. Well, they were extreme when you pulled on them.”

He grinned, and she suddenly felt like prey.

“And your pussy got wet,” he said, his voice rich, deep, like cognac on a winter’s night.

She gulped. “True.”

“Be brave, Jennifer.”

“I already have been, Sir. More than ever before.”

“And we still a lot of the night left.”

Even though his words sent a shiver of threat through her, she didn’t want their time together to end.

He dropped the clamps into his bag, then zipped it shut before going to turn off the stereo. The silence echoed.

Receiving a flogging to the sound of Gregorian chant music had allowed her to get out of her head and stop thinking. And then... Having sex to Muse had been incredible. The thrumming beat had given her courage that she’d never experienced before.

But now, with no outside noise, she noticed the thump of her heartbeat and the frantic, desperate sound of her shallow breaths.

“I want to look at your ass. I’ll follow you up the stairs,” he said.

Was this what it was like to be a submissive? Subject to the Dom’s orders and desires? Having boundaries tested, maybe demolished? An illicit thrill tingled down her spine. If this was what it was like, she wanted more.

“And I want to admire my handiwork, see if you need more stripes to remember me by.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking, and that created uncertainty that made her stomach pitch.

“After you.”

Jennifer gathered the pile of their clothes, including his boots. She held everything against her chest as she climbed the stairs. Every sense seemed to be on hyperalert. She knew he was watching, making a judgment. It was exhilarating.

“Your ass is a little red.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“But you only have a few marks. I’ll take care of that.”

The words weren’t a question, and they were delivered matter-of-factly. Almost as casual as his observations about the weather.

Once they were upstairs, he said, “Let me get you something to drink.”

She continued into the living room and placed their clothing on the couch. Their boots she put on the floor, side by side.

Outside, a storm raged. Wind whipped the snow sideways, obliterating the view of Denver. It was as if they were sealed off from the rest of civilization.

His earlier words about existing in two different worlds filtered through her mind.

In the window’s reflection, she saw him walking toward her.

He reminded her of a warrior. Even though he moved with athletic power, she noticed him take in the surroundings.

Logan stopped long enough to put his duffel bag on the floor near the couch and to place a bottle of water on the nearby end table. The whole time, she watched him, mesmerized.

“Cold?” he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

For a moment, she held herself away from him, but his grip was firm, relentless, and she curled into him, wondering if she could deny him anything.

“That’s better.”

The evening felt surreal. She’d gone from expecting a festive evening with friends to the most intimate, mind-expanding, fantasy-filled situation possible.

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, keeping her close until the chill subsided.

“Come with me,” he said.

Logan led her to the couch, then wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He left her long enough to ignite the fireplace. When he returned, he sat next to her, then uncapped the bottle of water and offered it to her.

Until she’d taken a drink, she hadn’t realized how parched she’d been.

He pulled her closer, and she went willingly, snuggling into his chest, breathing in warmth, comfort, and security from him.

“How does your body feel?”

“My nipples are a little tender. Not bad, though.”

“And your back, thighs, buttocks?”

“Hardly a twinge,” she confessed, unwilling to admit how much that disappointed her. In the movie she’d seen, the leading man had promised the star that she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week after he was done with her. And Jennifer wasn’t feeling the least bit uncomfortable.

They stared at the flickering flames, and she said, “I’m curious about your scar.”

“Are you?”

She wondered if that was a way to dodge the question or an invitation to probe further. Since she was intrigued, she pressed on. “You’re a bit of a mystery. Even Noelle doesn’t know much.”

“You asked about me.”

Was that a note of triumph in his tone? “I like to know something about men I might sleep with.” In fact, she generally insisted on several dates before becoming intimate. Yet she trusted Logan trustworthy, perhaps because of his honesty. He hadn’t promised anything other than an evening of exploration, and she’d found that somewhat refreshing.

“Yet we just scened.”

She turned to face him. “I know Joe considers you a friend. Apparently there aren’t a lot of people he says that about. I’m guessing the same is true for you.”

“Friends? A handful,” he conceded.

“But those few?”

“I’d risk my life for them.”

She believed it. “And the scar?”

“Pushy for a sub, aren’t you?”

“You flogged me, fucked me, said something about giving me some more stripes. I think that gives me a right.”

“Does it?”

“Doesn’t it?” she challenged, pulling her legs up onto the couch.

He was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer. When he did, his voice was low, rough, containing a jagged edge of pain. “It was an IED. There were four of us.”

With his forefinger, he traced the scar back and forth, and the motion seemed so unconscious she wondered if he was aware of it.

“Three of us made it back. Matt wished he hadn’t, couldn’t deal with it. He took his life almost two years later.”

She sucked in a breath. But since words seemed inadequate, she remained silent.

“While we were over there, we spent a lot of days, nights, talking.” He exhaled.

She placed her fingers on his forearm.

He was staring ahead, not paying attention, as if he were lost.

“At his funeral, we decided to live fully, to honor Matt and Gary.” After several tense seconds, he looked at her. “I keep my hair short so the first thing I see every day is this scar. A reminder.”

Jennifer felt slightly breathless. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Sorry you asked?”

“Not at all.” She shook her head and offered a wan smile. More fully, she understood what he meant about the different worlds. The things he spoke of she would never experience. “I wish I were capable of not being nosy.”

“Don’t apologize for being who you are.” The timbre of his voice rumbled through her, and she snuggled closer to him.

“I promised you a shower. But it can wait. I want to get you hotter, wetter, dirtier first.”

His words shot heat into her cunt, leaving her feeling greedy. “When?” she asked, emboldened in a way she had never been before tonight.

He plucked the bottle from her hand and the blanket from her shoulders, then said, “On your knees. Present my belt to me.”

In his tone there was nothing but uncompromising authority. She searched his features and found no hint of the person who’d so tenderly held her moments ago. Instead, he was a Dom who expected to be obeyed. Shocked, she realized she liked both sides of him equally as well.

Silently—since words would have lodged in her throat—she dug through the pile of their clothes until she found his belt.

He continued to regard her, his fingers steepled.

Once she held the leather by the buckle, she was uncertain what to do, how to proceed, so she opted for going with her instincts.

She folded the belt in half before kneeling in front of him. Remembering his instructions in the basement, she spread her thighs wide and leaned back slightly. Then she bowed her head, extended her hands palms up, and focused her gaze on the floorboards.

For a long time, he remained silent. It took all her concentration to remain where she was, knowing he was looking, thinking, perhaps planning what he intended to do to her.