“It’s a good start, Logan.”
He had a faraway look, the set of his jaw confirming his doubts. “I doubt she’ll go 48 hours before she goes to the media, bemoaning that I’m holding my billions hostage unless she plays nice with my mistress.”
I slid closer, her words still stinging. “I’m pretty sure she’ll use a different word. Whore, I believe it was?”
He winced. “She really is a good actress. I thought I saw something in her once. Something misunderstood.” The anger slowly morphed into sadness and regret. “I don’t think I knew her at all.”
I could tell her words weighed heavy on him, even though he’d never admit it. He was too strong. Too stubborn. So I took a cue from his playbook. “She seems to have your number. Chest full of toys…I still haven’t experienced the whole bed and whipping thing though.”
He sized me up, his smirk the best kind of bad. The right kind of trouble.
“I don’t think you’re ready for a spanking. No holds barred.” He stroked my knee and traced my inner thigh, sending a flutter of desire over me.
I wanted him.
I needed him.
I scooted closer, my voice thick like syrup. It was as unrecognizable as the woman inside me who was about to beg for the pain. For the pleasure.
“It’s okay. I’m giving control over to you,” I said hoarsely, deciding I was equal parts turned on, curious, and terrified.
His smile broadened as he leaned in, kissing my check.
“Give?” His lips stroked my skin, making me tremble for him. “I take what I want, Melissa. And right now, I want you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Logan
She stood before me. Beautiful. From the long blonde hair that hung loosely to her waist to the curvy line of her hips. Her thick ass that was begging for my hand.
She was a new submissive, mine to mold. To care for. To dominate. I wanted to do bad things to her. Push her to her limits. Show her the freedom in surrender. But I needed a moment to catch my breath. The dark hunger in me just wanted to bend her over the couch and spank her until her ass was red and her body shuddered with tears--because she was mine to do with as I pleased. Pain, pleasure, I decided what she needed. But at the moment, I was still pushing Delilah from my mind. My anger ripped at my chest. The barbs of it dug deep and played dirty.
I would never touch Melissa in this space with anger in my heart. But once I'd exorcised Delilah, all bets were off.
Melissa had come prepared, switching into a Rolling Stones t-shirt that hugged her in all the right places. Her jeans clutched her as sexily as any G-string and garter belt would. But I was never a big fan of lingerie. There was something beautiful about a woman wearing nothing but her curves.
Melissa's eyes were bright and wide with anticipation as I strode toward her. I drew my fingertips up and down her arms, watching the lust dance across her face.
"I think we both know you're wearing entirely too much clothing. Take it off."
"You're not going to rip it off?" she asked. Not sarcastically, nor in any combative way.
She wanted me to rip it off.
I circled around and stood behind her, feeling the heat of her body. The want. I traced the length of her spine ever so softly. So soft, so gentle, that she glanced at me over her shoulder, a question in her eyes. Did I touch her at all, or did she imagine it? When my hand lingered on her ass, she hitched a breath, anticipating the blow. Craving it.
My c**k twitched excitedly as I let out a chuckle. "There are other ways to punish you, love." I stroked her lower back, my fingers drawing a slow, teasing circle. My touch was tender. My voice was not. "Why are you still dressed?"
She scrambled to undress, her jeans first. In our rush to get out of the office earlier, I'd forgotten that she was going commando. The sight of her bare ass and the delicious view of her pu**y made my body hum with anticipation. I had plans for her body, the perfect way for her to submit.
Finally naked, she turned to face me, crossing her arms against her br**sts. Her cheeks were rosy with nervousness and arousal. She licked her lips. "What now?"
"Follow me."
We left the main room, bypassing the guest bathroom, and continued down the hallway toward the master bedroom. She gasped as soon as we entered. As badly as I wanted to pull her to the bed and screw her brains out, I gave her a moment to take in the view.
If the rest of my studio was defined by the art, the furnishings, and the top of the line gadgets, my living quarters were defined by its simplicity. There was a simple platform bed, a nightstand, and an entire wall of windows stretching from floor to ceiling. She stood in the glow of the afternoon sun, the San Francisco city line hugging her beautiful body.
The perfect instrument sprang to mind. I wanted her spread and as breathless as she was now, staring at the beauty outside while I stared at something infinitely more so: her hot, wet pu**y.
I went to the bed, pulling out the drawer. The frame was custom built, the extra storage tailor-made for my needs. To the average, unaware eye, it was just a drawer for linens and a blanket. But it had a false bottom. I found the notch that unhinged the sheet of wood and lifted it, my eyes falling to all manners of kink. I zeroed in on the small, cylinder-shaped rod with a circular hook on each end. I placed it, and a pair of cuffs, on the bed. When I looked back at the window, Melissa was looking back at me, her lips slightly parted.
"What is that?"
"A spreader bar," I answered smoothly. I picked it up, wanting, needing her more by the second when I realized she was tracking it with interest. It was the perfect moment to remind her who was in charge.
"Turn around."
Her blue eyes narrowed on the bar, then back up at me, still round with curiosity. Her lips gave me her submission. "Yes sir."
Cuffs in one hand, spreader bar in the other, I moved soundlessly toward her. I took my time. I wanted her to feel every minute, every second. I let her senses heighten her arousal. The chill of the air as its icy cool fingers stroked her na**d skin. The rush as she tried to gauge where I was and what came next, her heart thrumming in her ears.
I stopped behind her, my own heart ravaging my chest, blood storming my veins, engorging my c**k as I pressed my body against hers. She let out the tiniest moan, a deep and vibrating thing, pushing her ass back against me. Teasing me. The need inside me wanted to just tear open my fly and thrust inside her. Fuck her right against the glass. I did neither--there was a beauty in this ritual, ultimate pleasure found in my dominance and her submission.