After she had a second sip, he took the cup from her and slid it onto the countertop. His hands firm on her shoulders, Logan tugged her close. “I’ll be in touch.”
She tried for a casual, ‘I’m unaffected by what happened and don’t care whether you do or don’t’ smile. “That would be nice.” Nice wasn’t the word. Reality-tilting was closer.
He fisted one hand into her hair and tugged back her head.
She met his gaze. His eyes were the color of frost. But his lips were heated, his tongue demanding.
He ripped the sheet from her body, leaving her naked, her nipples peaked, her thighs parted, her pussy wanting.
He toyed with her nipples, then slid his hand between her legs. Even with their mouths joined, she moaned and rocked toward him, hungrily seeking release.
Just moments before she came, he pulled his hand away.
“What?” Confused, she blinked when he took a step back.
“I want you to think of me.”
“I…” Is he serious? He intended to leave her unfulfilled? Goosebumps raced up her arms.
Without another word, he turned and headed toward the home’s entryway. He shrugged into his jacket, gave her instructions on locking up then picked up his bag.
After he opened the front door, he looked over his shoulder. “Oh, and, Jennifer?”
She met his gaze.
“I meant that I want you to think of me. So don’t masturbate.” With that, he left. The door closed behind him with a resounding shudder.
Chapter Nine
On autopilot, she went through the motions of getting ready to leave, applying a little makeup, ensuring her flogger was in her bag. She took one last trip through the guest room and tried not to remember the way Logan had fucked her, then in the middle of the night, had made love to her.
Before leaving, she locked up and hid the key where Logan had instructed.
As he’d said, her car had been scraped, and he’d also cleared the driveway and sidewalk. Not only that but he’d sprinkled salt so it hadn’t iced over again.
The drive home was slow, but not treacherous.
Her house, though, was freezing cold, and not just from the temperature.
Midmorning, Logan sent a text, asking if she had made it home okay.
She grinned, feeling suddenly warmer.
Around noon, he sent a second message, letting her know it might be a while before he contacted her again. He’d followed mid-afternoon with a third.
Be patient?
She’d replied that she would.
And then…nothing.
Noelle called around four. “Well?”
“I have no idea where to begin.”
“Since you stayed two nights, it can’t have been terrible?”
“It was amazing.”
“So tell me about it.”
“Honestly, I’m still processing.”
“Let’s have drinks with the Divas on Wednesday.”
By then, she might have heard from him. Or realized he wasn’t going to call. “Perfect.”
For the rest of the afternoon and way too late into the night, she checked her phone before giving in to frustration and turning it off altogether.
Not that it mattered. When she woke up, she saw there had been no notifications.
At work on Monday, she placed her phone on her desk and waited for it to ring or signal a text from him. Although she received half a dozen messages from Noelle, Jennifer didn’t hear from Logan.
She finally told her friend that she hadn’t heard from him.
Noelle advised her to give him time. After all, he was a busy man.
Which was true. But that didn’t help.
By Tuesday, Jennifer’s frustration made her irritable at the office. It wasn’t just because she hadn’t heard from him, but also because she’d been stupid enough to follow his dictate not to masturbate despite being desperate for an orgasm.
She asked herself why she was obeying him. They didn’t have a relationship. It wasn’t as if she were his sub. She didn’t know whether he actually would call again. How the hell long was she supposed to wait?
‘I always keep my promises.’
His words haunted her. But so did his silence.
The harder she tried not to think about him or the way he’d secured her to the St. Andrew’s cross, the more persistent the memories became, growing bigger in her fantasies and invading her dreams.
She gave a silent prayer of thanks when Wednesday finally arrived and she met the Carpe Diem Divas for happy hour at a local bar in her neighborhood.
“You don’t look happy,” Ava observed.
Not much got past the Divas.
“So, what’s wrong?” Ava persisted.
“You still haven’t heard from him?” Noelle guessed.
“From who?” Eden demanded.
For the next few minutes, Noelle confessed her part in helping set up Logan and Jennifer.
Then Eden turned to Jennifer. “And? Did you scene with him?”
“Yeah,” Jennifer acknowledged. “I did.”
“Did he paddle you like that other Dom did?”
“He did. But it wasn’t at all like the time with Master Simon.”
She fanned herself.
“And he used my flogger.”
“The one we bought when we were shopping for that bachelorette party?” Morgan demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she plowed ahead. “I knew it! How was it?”
“Better than I imagined,” Jennifer revealed, rubbing her finger around the outside of her margarita glass.
She knew Eden would press for information, but honestly, she wanted to keep most of the details to herself. They were private—not necessarily because of what she and Logan had shared but because of how she’d reacted to it mentally, emotionally. How could she possibly explain what it felt like to be overcome by endorphins, lost inside her own head, in a place so pleasurable she wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted to come back?
“You’re understanding it better, aren’t you?” Noelle asked, more softly. “How complex the whole BDSM dynamic is.”
“It’s complicated. Yes.”
“And?”
Jennifer shook her head. “I’m not sure I wanted to know.”
“Why?” Eden asked. “Did it hurt?”
Noelle and Jennifer both glowered at her.
“What?” Eden held up her hands.
“Of course it hurt,” Jennifer said.
“Okay. So you hated it, right?” Eden pressed.
“No.” She’d loved it. Wanted it. Craved it.
“Ha!” Ava exclaimed.
“Ha?”
“I think you like this Logan guy,” Morgan said.
“Master Logan,” Jennifer corrected automatically, hearing his voice in her ear. A light shiver traced through her veins.
“So that’s how it is.” Morgan reached for a tortilla chip. “Noelle said she’d call him Master Logan if he had a paddle in his hand.” She gave a little shiver.
“You’ve got it bad,” Ava said, and there was some sympathy in her tone.
Jennifer knew her friend was right. Problem was, he obviously didn’t return the feelings. With a wince, she realized what it was like to be the person on the other side of the ‘in love’ equation.
Even though she spent the next hour chatting with her friends, Jennifer’s heart wasn’t in it and she had a difficult time paying attention.
Ava said she’d found out that the guy with the tattoo had a boyfriend.
“Better you found out now,” Morgan said, raising her almost empty glass.
As they walked outside, Noelle took her aside and squeezed her arm. “I’ll call you tomorrow so we can have a more private conversation,” Noelle promised. “That is, if you’re ready to talk.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a busy day.” Jennifer smiled, hoping to take any sting from the words.
Noelle pulled back, but she nodded as if understanding. “If you change your
mind, call me.”
Jennifer wasn’t sure she was interested in talking about her experiences with anyone, even the one person who might understand what she was going through.
“I can’t stand to see you like this. I feel responsible.”
“This is all on me,” she said. “I made my choices. I don’t regret a single one of them.”
“Tell me you’re okay.”
“I will be,” Jennifer replied, hoping Noelle couldn’t hear the lie. “I promise.”
Because she had no plans for the upcoming weekend and she needed to keep herself busy so she didn’t slowly go out of her mind, Jennifer stopped at the hardware store on the way home. She selected a gallon of paint for the guest room, a couple for the kitchen and she found a clerk to help her select an air sprayer. Even that conjured images of Logan. Master Logan.
After taping a few walls in preparation for the weekend, she went to bed early, slept badly, then dragged all the way through work for the rest of the week. Then, annoyed that she was feeling sorry for herself, she turned off her phone when she got home on Friday evening.
She rewatched the videos on how to use the power tool and followed the clerk’s instructions before painting the guest room. It took her less than half the time that it had taken her to do the bathroom.
On Saturday morning, she got up and began taping off the kitchen cabinets and moving out the table in preparation for the primer. It was going to take a lot to transform canary yellow to soft sage.
By Saturday night, she was exhausted and every muscle ached. She drowned her thoughts by listening to music so loud that knickknacks danced in the curio cabinet.
She was only marginally successful in blocking out thoughts of Master Logan.
But once she drew her bath, her efforts collapsed into failure. As she sank in and the hot water soothed her muscles, she began to relax, and that wasn’t good. A restless hunger consumed her.
She couldn’t stop thinking about sex.
As usual, the harder she tried to shove thoughts away, the bigger they became.
Her clit throbbed, and she wanted an orgasm.
She told herself it couldn’t hurt to masturbate. She didn’t owe him anything. They’d shared a weekend, a number of great scenes, hot sex and he’d helped her explore her boundaries. Despite his pretty words, they didn’t have a relationship. Other than him taking her phone number, there were no future plans.
Jennifer trailed her fingers down her breastbone, then cupped each breast in turn. She gently tugged on her nipples, but she couldn’t get any kind of satisfaction from it. She needed more pressure. Or, better yet, some pain.
Frustrated, she sat up and pulled the plug to drain the water.
After climbing from the claw-foot tub, she wrapped a towel around herself and went to find her toy bag.
She pulled out the nipple clamps she’d never played with, and she grabbed a small vibrator, then climbed onto the bed.
As soon as she closed her eyes, she imagined Master Logan telling her what to do. “Yes,” she whispered to the empty room as she rolled her right nipple, teased it, pulled on it, elongating it in preparation for the bite of the tiny, serrated alligator teeth.
She recalled the way he’d placed the clamp last weekend, and she did the same.
The grip scored her tender flesh, and she lifted her hips from the mattress. Since she’d been left wanting last Sunday morning, arousal had lain in her belly, low and hot. Now it flared in fervent demand.
Jennifer repeated the process with her left nipple, and this time she moaned. The pain made her clit throb. She didn’t just want an orgasm—she needed it.
With her eyes still closed, her imagination still racing, she reached for the vibrator, then turned it on. She parted her labia and placed the wriggling nubby head of the bullet against her clit.
She dug her heels in beneath her, arching her back as she pressed against the vibrator. “Damn…” Wishing Logan were there, she slipped a finger in her pussy, then pushed the bullet hard against her clit, rapidly moving her wrist to create more motion.
Her breaths came faster and faster, sharper and sharper.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Sir…”
“Didn’t I tell you not to orgasm?”
“But…” Goddamn. Jennifer couldn’t get there, couldn’t come… Maybe just a little more pressure…
“I said stop it immediately, Jennifer.”
Fuck. All of a sudden, fantasy vanished. His voice seemed so fucking real. Panting, she opened her eyes, then screamed.
Logan stood in her bedroom only a few feet away, wearing a ferocious scowl, his arms folded formidably across his chest.
Petrified, stunned at being caught, pissed off that he was there, and fucking elated that he was, she remained frozen, her pulse racing. “Logan.”
“Master Logan,” he corrected. “I’ll take that.” He held out a hand and glanced at the still-buzzing bullet she’d somehow dropped onto the mattress. “And then you can get on your knees and explain what the hell you think you’re doing.”
Chapter Ten
Logan waited impatiently for her to follow his orders.
Instead, she sat up and demanded, “What are you doing here?” She grabbed a nearby robe and dragged it against her.
The motion knocked off one of the alligator clamps. She winced, but didn’t attempt to remove the other one. Smart girl.
“How did you find me?”
“I’m a goddamn detective.”
“If you think…”
He waited.
“That you can burst in here without calling or texting me—”
“I did. Several dozen times in the last twenty-four hours. I was starting to get worried about you. So was Noelle. Check your phone.”
Her gorgeous blue eyes went wide. Her expression changed from challenging to contrite. Since his numerous calls had gone straight to voice mail and she hadn’t responded to half a dozen text messages, he figured she had probably turned it off. “Now do as I requested.”
“Ordered,” she countered.
He lifted a shoulder. “Semantics.”
Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. In coming here, unexpected, uninvited, he knew he’d scared the shit out of her, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be overly concerned.
“It’s been almost a week,” she said. “You could have called.”
He pulled out his phone with the shattered screen and tossed it on the bed next to her.
“Did you drop it?” she asked.
“Look again.” When she squinted at it, he said, “Turn it over.”
Her face drained of color. “It’s got a hole…”
“Yeah. It stopped a bullet.”
She put a hand on her throat. “Were you hurt?”
“Bruises. Nothing a couple of aspirin won’t take care of. We got the case wrapped up around five yesterday. The first fucking place I went was the cell phone store. Not the shower. Not my bed. Not to get a drink or food. To the phone store.” The idea of burying his dick deep in Jennifer’s wet pussy had kept him sane. The thought of flogging her had been a lifeline in the chaos. The memory of holding her while they’d talked had soothed the savageness of his emotions.
“That’s almost worse than getting shot,” she said, with a wry twist to her lips.
“Not by much.” He’d spent days working his ass off to get back to her, thought about her when he shouldn’t have, used the knowledge that he’d see her again as motivation to press through to the end of the case.
He crouched in front of her, being more real with her than he’d ever been with any woman. Jennifer deserved it. “You were the only thing I thought about. I’m a man of my word. If I say I will call, I will. I keep my promises. I’ll prove it to you, and I’ll make it up to you.”
She stared at him as if trying to decide whether to trust him.
“Then you didn’t answer my texts or my calls. Around ten last night, I
called Joe. He told me to give you time. So I called Noelle. She refused to give me any information. But she tried to call you. I went over there two hours ago, and she was getting as concerned as I was. She finally convinced Joe to give me your address. At that point, it didn’t matter. I was going to use all my connections to find you.” Logan softened the tone of his voice and took one of her hands. “I knocked on the door. Rang the bell.”
“I guess I did have the music a little loud.”
Which he’d turned down. “You had a key under a fake rock. Only honest people think they fool anyone. No more keys in easy access,” he said. Seeing her there when he’d walked in, naked, back arched, moaning in tiny frustrated sounds as she sought a climax she couldn’t reach had affected him in powerful ways. He wanted to be the only one to please her. For a man who’d spent years avoiding relationships, he was intensely attracted to this woman. “Then l saw you, trying to steal an orgasm that you promised me. Me, Jennifer. It’s mine to give, not yours to take. Mine.”
She shuddered.
“You promised you’d be patient.”
“I thought… I remembered the story about Helen.”
“That relationship was over,” he said. “We both knew it. She had the guts to end it before I did. But you… I asked you to wait.”
She exhaled, and the color of her eyes lightened.
“Now. Don’t make me repeat my order.” He held out his hand again.
Her internal struggle didn’t last long. He knew she was as hot for him as he was for her. She could have thrown him out or used a safe word, but she hadn’t.
She picked up the vibrator and turned it off before placing it in his palm.
“Thank you,” he said as he stood.
Slowly she slipped from the bed, and the robe fell to the floor.
He stepped back to give her room. She looked at him for a few moments. Then she lowered her gaze as she knelt.
The free clamp swung, pulling on the one still attached to her nipple. Her wince prompted him to say, “I could take that off for you, but I’m not going to. I want to see you suffer.”
“I have been.” She looked up at him. “When I thought you wouldn’t call.” Her voice was breathless, aching…killing him.
Initiation (Master Class Book 1) Page 11
