She hadn't done or said anything wrong when she asked about Shendah; she'd been curious, nothing more. Despite the fact that there was no connection of a romantic sort between Shendah and any men living in the mansion, a part of Logan understood Alayna questioning the other woman's presence. A part of him had wanted to reassure her that he had no interest in Shendah. But being mean to her, lashing out at her, was the easiest way to keep him from giving in to that desire, the easiest way to keep emotional distance between them. He wouldn't allow them to cross the line into something personal. He couldn't.
The intense look of interest in her eyes that morning had mirrored his own, he was certain, but he could not permit either of them to act upon it. He was no longer a man worthy of the precious gift of a woman's submission. Allowing either of them to act upon their attraction would be dangerous, and detrimental to Alayna's well-being. Keeping her safe was Logan's priority. Not that he needed to explain his actions to anyone, but Lord knew that if Dane didn't understand Logan's reasons behind keeping a low profile and distance between himself and Alayna, then she wouldn't. It was best she be spared the humiliation of learning what a monster he was now rather than later. Later she would be mortified at the thoughts of having wasted her time with him. If he indulged in his fantasy of claiming her and she found out about the neglect of his past afterward, she would walk out of his life forever.
If things just got back to the way they were before she'd invaded his personal space, he would be free to indulge in getting his daily dose of watching her in her restaurant. But if she were to find out what he was, she would certainly never want to see him again.
If her feelings were hurt, it was a small price to pay to keep her protected. He was not worthy of anyone's trust. His past with Tasha was a testament to that.
Shendah hadn't yet been in to make up the room or else Logan would have just asked her to retrieve some more of his things when she did. Pushing the door closed behind him, he glanced at his watch. He had time before Alayna finished with breakfast, and then Rick and she would discuss the day's training schedule—for what it was. Plenty of time for him to linger a while. It would be enough for him just to be in the room she occupied. The fact she slept in his bed brought him a modicum of comfort.
He strolled across the floor toward the bathroom to collect the toiletries he'd neglected earlier in the week in his haste to clear out. From the linen closet he collected a razor and can of shaving cream and a new deodorant stick. Her personal items looked right at home alongside his, as if they belonged. As he reached for his bathrobe hanging on a hook behind the door, he heard a sound that stopped him cold.
The door to the suite closed, and the fragrant scent of lilac assailed him.
Shit! Logan pressed himself against the wall and held his breath, listening to her footfalls as she crossed the floor. There was no way out; he was trapped in the bathroom.
“Books,” she muttered. “He gives me books to read on how to get myself off. What the hell is that all about?”
The books in question were dropped heavily onto a table, and she blew out a heavy sigh. Logan cocked his head, listening in an attempt to gauge her whereabouts in the room. He pulled away from the wall and glanced out the bathroom door toward a full-length mirror hanging off to one side of a window. In the glass he spied her reflection. The sight of her stole his breath. The Dom in him stared hard, branding her with his gaze.
Alayna held a book in her hands and leafed through the pages. He gave Rick kudos for making use of the vast library on the premises. For a moment she stood there, focusing on something on the page. Logan stifled a chuckle when she tipped her head one way, and then the other, and then turned the book itself as if trying to make sense of the subject matter.
“All right,” she said, setting the book down and reaching for the hem of her shirt. “Let's give it a whirl.”
Logan should have alerted her to his presence at that moment, but his feet and voice failed him. He was powerless to do anything more than watch as she tugged her T-shirt over her head and tossed it on the foot of the bed. Next she discarded her bra; he groaned inwardly when her breasts came into view. The rosy tips of her nipples were just as he'd imagined. They stood at attention, silently calling to him to come out of hiding and have a taste. In an instant he was hard. When she reached for the fastenings of her jeans, he closed his eyes. Watching her was torture.
He'd witnessed many sexual pairings, women in various stages of undress, as well as erotic exchanges as couples expressed their love for one another, but this was inappropriate. He was playing voyeur, no better than a common Peeping Tom.
Opening his eyes, he saw that her back was to him now as she picked up the book from the table. The creaminess of her skin reminded him of fine porcelain, and his fingers itched to touch her. Her buttocks beckoned to bear the mark of his hand. The fleshy globes were perfectly rounded, and he envisioned his cock sliding between them, delving inside the tight hole hidden within. Logan reached for his groin, needing to adjust the painful discomfort behind his zipper.
When Alayna crawled atop the bed and disappeared from his line of sight, Logan breathed a soft sigh of relief. This was a test, that was all—one he intended to pass even if it killed him. Alayna would kill him if she found him lurking in the bathroom, but he'd deal with that when the time came. Right now, his curiosity got the better of him.
With silent footsteps, Logan crept toward the bathroom door. As he moved closer, Alayna came back into view. She sat stretched out on his bed, with her back against the headboard, surrounded by pillows. Her legs were upright and bent at the knees. The open book sat between her feet, leaned up against a pillow.
“Okay, relax Alayna,” she muttered. Her breasts heaved as she drew several deep breaths, seeming to will herself to loosen up.
She glanced to the book, then raised her hands. “Caress your flesh using a soft, gentle touch.”
Logan watched her close her eyes and touch her fingertips to her cheeks. Slowly she trailed them down her face, along her neck and chest. Her fingers danced featherlike over the swells of her breasts. Her breathing remained even, her brow furrowed.
Relax, sweetheart, he silently willed her.
Downward across her belly, she stroked toward the V between her legs. But she didn't stop and focus there. Instead she dragged the backs of her fingers along her thighs, over her bent knees, and down the inside of her calves. When she reached her feet, her direction reversed.
Again Logan adjusted his stiff cock and contemplated pulling it out and bringing himself relief, but he resisted. He didn't deserve to take his pleasure either from or through her. She wasn't his. It wasn't his place. Though difficult to ignore, he pushed his throbbing dick out of his mind to concentrate on Alayna. Her body deserved to be worshipped.
The slender length of her fingers came to rest at the apex of her thighs. She hesitated a moment before cupping her pussy. She opened her eyes and looked at the open book, then closed them again and continued. As if seeking a more suitable position, Alayna moved her hand and wiggled on the mattress. The shift in her position gave Logan a direct view of her sex.
A groan developed low in his chest, threatening to rumble past his lips. She was bare—a pleasant surprise. Logan didn't mind a neatly trimmed nest of curls between a woman's thighs, but with Alayna he wanted nothing to interfere as he looked upon her. The pink of her labia peaked past her plump folds, teasing him. Using her right hand, she spread herself and traced over the lips inside with a finger of her left hand. She was beautiful.
Logan inched closer to the door, the worry of being spotted no longer at the forefront of his mind. When she pushed a finger inside herself, Logan grew light-headed. After withdrawing the digit, she then pressed her fingers against her clit and began to massage in circles. First one way, then the other—fast, slow, hard, soft. Yet she couldn't seem to find a rhythm that worked.
After several moments, she opened her eyes to look at the book. “Maybe I'm no
t hitting the right spot.” She released her outer lips, reached over, and turned the page. Scanning over the contents, she turned to another page. And another. “No, that's my clit.” Settling back against the pillows and wiggling her backside, she returned her hand to between her legs and opened herself to his view again.
Twenty minutes passed as Logan watched her. He had to fight the urge to approach and direct her in her motions. Even from his position in the bathroom, he could see her movements were jerky, unsure. Every few minutes she would stop to refer back to the open text before her to no avail. Twice she reached up to pluck at her nipples in an effort to coax her body into relenting. The dissatisfaction marring her features ripped at his insides.
He wanted to take her on a guided tour of her body, touching, caressing, and teaching her what she so desperately needed to learn. In silence he attempted to channel his thoughts to her, directing in pressure and technique. He'd read through her file and knew orgasm eluded her, and that because of that, she'd given up on masturbation and sex altogether.
She'd never truly been treated as she should have by her past partners. It had been years since she'd been cared for by a lover. He knew he, however, could bring her the release she so frantically struggled for.
Her delicate fingers worked faster against her clit; every so often she stopped to slide one inside her pussy. Her squirming on the bed looked more like she was pained rather than writhing from pleasure.
“Fucking shit.” She growled. Her ministrations ceased.
The disappointment in her voice was more than he could stand. His own frustration and desire took root. His body trembled with need to slip from the shadows to guide her properly. He curled his hands into tight fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her. It was torture to watch her struggle as she strived to find release. In that moment, Logan conceded to his inner Dom. He stepped toward the bathroom door. After punishing her for breaking through his defenses with her display, he would reward her with the completion she sought. They could sort out the rest of the shit later.
A knock on the suite door stopped him in midstep.
“Alayna?” Rick's voice called from the other side.
In an instant, Logan was brought back to his senses and his fantasy of claiming Alayna dissolved in his mind. The image of her reflected in the mirror was one he never wanted to see again: from the corner of Alayna's right eye, a tear spilled forth.
“Just a minute.” Her voice wavered. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the robe at the end. Pulling it around her body, she tied the belt and straightened the tousled comforter on the bed.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Rick poked his head in. “Hey, how are you making out?”
She shrugged and started to walk toward him. Now she was out of Logan's line of vision, but he could predict her whereabouts by the sound of her steps.
“Fine,” she answered.
She wasn't fine at all. Her tone of voice betrayed her words, but Rick seemed to not pick up on it. Logan took a couple of steps back into the bathroom and stood quietly.
“I know I said I'd leave you to reading the books and stuff, but I got to thinking maybe it would be helpful if we did it together,” Rick said.
“That would probably be better,” she said. “But I noticed it stopped raining. I think I'd like to go for a walk and get some fresh air. If that's okay?”
“Sure, sounds good. I'll let you get dressed. Meet you in the kitchen?”
“Yeah, I'll just be a few minutes.”
The door clicked closed, and Logan heard Alayna's bare feet pad across the floor. With her attention more acute now, Logan didn't chance moving a muscle. He only prayed she didn't come into the bathroom for anything. No one was listening to his silent litany as he watched her reflection in the mirror as she approached the bathroom.
Stifling the curse on the brim of his lips, Logan hurriedly stepped behind the door and held his breath. Alayna's heavy sigh topped the sound of water spilling from the faucet she turned on. The floral scent of the gel soap from the pump dispenser on the counter perfumed the air. A few moments later, the water was turned off. He didn't need to see her to know she dried her hands on the terry cloth hand towel hanging on a brass hook beside the sink. A soft squeak of the metal signaled the return of the towel to its place.
The soft footfalls of her bare feet told him she'd left the bathroom and once again padded across the bedroom floor. Only then did he allow himself to exhale the breath he'd been holding.
After several moments passed, the sound of the door opening and then closing carried to the bathroom. Ten minutes more elapsed before Logan ventured out of the bathroom and across the room. On his way past the bed, his mind replayed the scene he'd just witnessed in vivid detail. He recalled her utterances of frustration, and new guilt took up residence beside the old.
Logan was solely to blame for her anguish and feelings of failure. Due to his forbiddance of Rick touching Alayna in any way, the younger man had resorted to giving her books to aid in her search of self-gratification. Though it was admirable of Rick to take that initiative when his hands were otherwise tied, what Alayna needed was to be taken on a guided tour of how to pleasure herself, by the loving hands of a man who truly worshipped her.
Logan was shaken that he'd come so close to breaking his vow, so close to taking Alayna. So very close. He was furious with himself over his inability to keep his Dom at bay. Never before had he been tested as acutely as he had moments before. His Dom knew what it wanted—Alayna. The war to maintain control over that darkest part of him would be a battle he wondered if he could win. But he had to. He intended to. He owed it to Alayna to stay as far away from her as possible.
His anger at himself getting the better of him, he decided he needed to get out of his suite and downstairs to the gym to work out his frustrations.
Pressing his ear against the door, he listened for any sound on the other side. Satisfied the hall was vacant, he opened the door and slipped from the suite empty-handed.
As he rounded the corner at the end of the hall, he smacked right into Alayna. Instinct made him reach out and grip her around the upper arms to steady her. When her hip made contact with his still semihard cock, he grunted.
“I'm sorry,” she said, glancing up at him.
The interest he'd become familiar with when she looked at him sparkled in her blue-green eyes. The urge to dip his head and capture her lips between his was strong.
His will, however, was stronger. “It's fine. I was distracted.”
“Oh, okay.” Alayna stepped away. “Were you looking for me?”
He discerned a hint of hope in her voice, but he refused to respond to it. He let his arms fall back to his sides and narrowed his eyes at her question. “No. Why?”
Alayna looked around him, up the hall, and then back at him. A confused look crossed her face, and her brow creased. It took him a moment to realize there were only two doors down the hallway. She occupied one of the rooms. The other was Dane's suite.
“What? Are you feeling curious again?” He winced inwardly at his clipped tone. He knew it wasn't right to take his anger out on her, but he had no other choice. “I'm not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone, let alone a training sub.”
A glint of rebellion flashed in her eyes, and her full lips drew tight. He'd pissed her off. Good. Now maybe she'd take the hint and stay clear of him. Though that would prove to be a difficult feat since they were stuck under the same roof for another three weeks.
“No,” she snapped back. “Don't worry, I learned my lesson earlier, sir. Excuse me.” She pushed her way past him and stormed down the hall.
After she disappeared into the room, Logan clenched his fists at his sides and stomped off. How in the hell am I going to last till the end of the month like this?
Chapter Five
Day Nine
After a morning jog through the woods, followed by a swim, Alayna and
Rick ran into Dane in the main hall of the mansion. The chance meeting with Dane made Alayna's missing Ariel keener. It was painful being apart, and the fact that they couldn't speak on the phone made it worse. She wondered how Ariel was fairing in her absence. More importantly, how were Ariel and Dane getting along?
“Hey there, Rick. Alayna. How are things going?” Dane asked Rick.
“Good. Good,” Rick replied. “This submissive is a quick study, sir.”
Dane's gaze settled on her. Alayna met his eyes for a moment before shooting a questioning look at Rick. Things hadn't been going well at all. In fact, she had begun to consider perhaps her being at the mansion was a mistake.
So far her time at the mansion had been a letdown, to say the least. Not once had she and Rick spent more than an hour a day discussing or engaging in their “training sessions.” The majority of their allotted time was spent with Rick giving lecturelike tutorials and tips. He'd insisted on an anatomy lesson, courtesy of a medical journal he'd come across in the library. Afterward, she had once again taken the text back to her room to try a more hands-on approach. It had turned out to be as futile an exercise as the last.
Regardless of the fact Logan's cologne scented the air heavily in the suite or that his handsome face entered her thoughts, no matter how hard she tried, Alayna still could not bring herself to climax. To say she was frustrated was an understatement.
Though she enjoyed the time she and Rick had spent getting to know each another, it wasn't what she'd signed on for. Her intention in coming to the mansion had been to learn about herself sexually and gain experience in the lifestyle in order to learn about what it was Logan sought in a submissive.
“We're progressing well, sir,” Rick said.
Alayna was about to argue Rick's take on their sessions when she remembered that while in the mansion—unless otherwise directed—her role was that of a submissive, and as such it wasn't her place to interrupt the masters as they spoke. Rick's leniency with her regarding that rule probably wouldn't bode well in front of Dane. Pursing her lips, she dropped her chin to look at the floor.
An Invitation: Alayna's Training Page 10
