Belong to Me (13 page)

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Authors: Shayla Black

BOOK: Belong to Me
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Greta didn’t hesitate before she uncurled her legs from beneath her, rocked back on her ass, legs spread wide for Jason’s view.
He dropped to one knee and his hand disappeared between her legs. “Very nice. Shaved or waxed?”
“Waxed,” she panted. “Brazilian.”
“And I see you’ve complied with regard to the anal plug. Is this the largest?”
“Yes, Master. I put it in this morning. It was challenging, but I’m ready for you now.”
In Greta’s voice, Tara heard the need for Jason’s acceptance and pleasure. Her own knowledge about the shadowy world of BDSM was almost exclusively academic and yet . . . Tara already understood exactly how the other woman felt. It struck a chord in her, all the times she’d done her best to please Brad or another lover by cutting her hair a certain way or buying a sexy pair of shoes. Most of her efforts had gone unnoticed.
For a crazy moment, Tara wanted a man who would truly notice her, down to the last detail. A man like—
She didn’t dare finish that thought.
But memories filtered in as her gaze skittered Logan’s way. In high school, he’d usually noticed when she’d even changed her sweater. The afternoon he’d taken her innocence, he remarked on everything, all the way down to her birthmarks and the way she flushed before she came.
Jason smiled, stroking between her legs again. Greta’s thigh blocked her view, but whatever was going on, the woman moaned.
“I’m very proud of you, pet,” Jason crooned. “You deserve a reward, which you’ll get as soon as we deal with your punishment for Tuesday.”
Despite being nearly flat on her back, Greta managed to cast her gaze down. She was the picture of contrition. “I’m sorry, Master. I won’t fail you again. I was . . . apprehensive.”
“You uphold the law, and I would never want you to be arrested for public indecency. The exercise was intended to test your trust in me, and you failed. Did you think I would let you be reproached professionally?”
Greta bit her plump lip. “I didn’t think. I panicked.”
“And you didn’t trust me.”
The woman bowed her dark head. “I wish to please you, Master. I’ll take any punishment you see fit.”
He nodded. “First, I will give you another opportunity to do what you refused on Tuesday and please me. We are, even now, being watched. I won’t say by whom or why. Stroke your clit.”
She cast a quick glance toward the mirror. The stunning beauty’s sultry eyes looked both wide and dilated. She was afraid . . . but aroused.
Jason snapped his fingers. “They are not your concern. I am.”
With a shaky nod, Greta reclined on her elbows and drew her hand shyly between her spread legs.
“Turn your body to face the mirror,” he demanded.
Greta froze.
“Why is he pushing her when she’s so obviously apprehensive?” Tara whispered.
“She wants it, and Jason knows it. The sub is trying so hard to control the scene that she’s not letting go and putting her well-being in his hands. Logically, she knows she has nothing to fear in this situation. Jason’s job is to push her past her inhibitions until she’s able to submit and experience her fantasy.”
Tara understood, but she related to Greta’s discomfort. The thought of masturbating in front of a lover and unknown witnesses made her squirm with both apprehension and a disturbing thread of arousal.
Finally, Greta gathered her courage and turned her body to face the window. Tara saw every goose bump on the woman’s flesh, every jagged breath, the peaked nipples topping her plump breasts, the slick lips of her bare sex, along with the pink base of the plug tucked into her anus.
Greta’s hand slid between her legs. She closed her eyes and began to rub slow fingers over the little bundle of nerves.
“He wanted her to do this in public?” Tara couldn’t fathom that, but the idea of having that sort of faith in a partner made something inside her curl with unwanted warmth.
“Tuesday, after her shift ended, he met her at a park. It was dark and empty. He didn’t tell her, but he’d actually swept it and had a couple of buddies guarding the entrances. Jason has a real hard-on for outdoor sex, and Greta gets off on the thought that she might be watched.”
“But I can see her uneasiness.” Tara frowned. Every muscle in the woman’s body tensed, shook.
“She’s also flushed. She keeps spreading her legs wider. Her nipples are diamond hard.”
Tara’s gaze skated over the other woman. He was right. Now that she saw the sub’s reactions through a Dom’s eyes, she also noticed something else. “She’s beginning to stroke herself faster.”
“Exactly. Does she truly look uncomfortable? Perturbed? Inhibited?”
After another glance, Tara had to shake her head. “Not anymore.”
“He’s helping her bring out her true nature and fulfilling her fantasies. That’s his role.”
“Is that why you do this?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Logan turned her way, hesitated. “That’s what every Dom aspires to. Some make it, some don’t.”
Tara was sure Logan was right . . . but he hadn’t really answered her question.
“Stop,” Jason demanded of the woman.
Greta sobbed as she lifted her fingers to hover over her clit. Her back arched, teeth grinding together. She’d been just on the verge. Tara’s body clenched in empathy. Sitting next to Logan in this small, dark space made Tara fidget, hyperaware of the ache that started in the pit of her stomach and grew between her thighs.
“Sit still,” Logan demanded, as if he knew exactly the uncomfortable desire brewing inside her.
“Stand,” Jason demanded of Greta.
Slowly, the policewoman rose to her feet. She cast a pleading glance at her Dom. He looked unmoved as he sat on a plush ottoman squatting nearby.
He patted his thigh. “Over my knees, pet.”
“Master . . .” Greta looked ready to cry.
“You’ve been doing so well. Don’t spoil it now.”
Greta closed her eyes, her face tense as she searched for the courage to carry on. Finally, she draped herself over Jason’s impeccable charcoal slacks. “Count each spanking. No coming.”
The Dom began peppering a stinging volley of slaps across the woman’s pert ass. Greta counted each, becoming breathier with every number. Tara squirmed.
“If you’re wondering,” Logan murmured, “you weren’t aroused when I spanked you earlier because I meant to punish, not pleasure you. Next time I spank you, you’ll feel the difference. And if all that fidgeting you can’t seem to stop is any indication, you’ll like it.”
If anyone had asked her ten minutes ago if she’d be aroused by an erotic spanking, she would have laughed, but now Tara couldn’t deny that she’d become more than curious. There was a rhythm to their bodies, a push-pull, almost like a well-choreographed dance. As he struck, she gasped and counted breathlessly. Then he groaned. He rubbed his worshipping palm across her reddening cheeks, and she lifted her butt into his hand—again and again.
Suddenly, Greta’s body tightened. Jason lifted her until she straddled his thighs, then fused his mouth to hers. In seconds, he’d shoved his pants down and rolled a condom on.
Grabbing her hips, Jason bared his teeth. “Take me inside you.”
With a cry of relief, she impaled herself on his thick cock, shoving it deep in her sex in one brutal thrust.
Jason tossed his head back with a groan. On the next down stroke, he swept his thumb over her clit. “Come, Greta.”
He didn’t have to ask her twice. Her lithe body tensed up, fingers digging into his shoulders as she met his gaze with a helplessly erotic stare, then closed her eyes in pleasure, releasing everything to him.
It didn’t take long for Jason to fuck her through the first orgasm, then a second. When Greta ramped up for her third, her face rosy, her breath stuttering, the Dom finally let go, one hand splayed behind her back, the other tangled in her hair. Not a bit of air passed between them as he kissed her all through their shuddering joint climax.
Tara let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her entire body shook, pulsed. Desire pooled in her pussy. Jason and Greta had been visually arousing . . . but far more. Deeper. He’d given; she’d taken—and given everything back in return. The act looked like one of such togetherness. That sort of connection of bodies, of minds and souls, that made poets and songwriters dash madly for their pens. Tara had never seen or felt anything like it.
And, in that moment, she wanted it—desperately.
She risked a glance at Logan. He met her stare with silent confidence that said,
yes, I can give you that
.
“Do you understand now?”
She couldn’t find the words to tell him how deeply she was moved and how completely she understood. “Yes, Logan.”
He held out his hand. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter Five
 
L
OGAN’S heart beat faster and more forcefully than a sledgehammer. He tried not to crush Tara’s hand in his as he forced down his impatience. No matter how badly he itched to touch her, get inside her and stay, he had to focus first on teaching her.
At the door to his dungeon, he pushed it open, let her walk through. Her clothes still lay on the floor, her engagement ring peeking out from her skirt pocket, winking in the light from overhead. With his blood already pumping, knowing that she still planned to tie herself to Brad Thompson made him damn near violent.
Calm. Breathe. Focus.
He had to be smart, pay attention to detail. The reality was, right now, Cherry was flushed, aroused. She’d seen the power exchange and found beauty in it. She wanted it for herself. She needed it for her mission. Their biggest impediment now was his own impatience . . . and her unwillingness to hear his reason for their breakup. But that was another issue for another time. Now, he’d begin to bind her to him sexually, as a way to reach her emotions, because he wasn’t going to make Hunter’s mistake and try to force them. Logan had seven days; no need for panic. He had to believe that her heart would be roused before their time ran out.
“Kneel,” he ordered softly. “Get into position.”
Without hesitation, she slid to her knees and parted them, then met his gaze. Her nipples stood up, begged for his mouth. Her pussy had swollen to a deep, rosy red.
“Beautiful,” he praised. “Tell me what equipment Axel walked you through.”
“You mean, what did he use on me? He didn’t actually do anything to me, Logan.”
Hearing his name slide off her tongue with that reverent tone any other sub would use to say “Master,” revved him up. He’d been hard nearly every moment he’d been with Tara, but when she said his name like that . . . Damn, he had to keep his head in the game.
“On your feet. Over to the St. Andrew’s Cross.”
Tara stood and stared at the giant wooden X, stained a rich walnut, padded manacles affixed at top and bottom. With a hesitant gait, she made her way across the floor.
Logan stopped her by taking her hips and pulling her back against his chest. The vanilla-fruity sweet scent of her skin grabbed him by the balls. “What are you afraid of, Cherry?”
“Being helpless.” Even her voice quivered.
“You will be. Trust me with your safety and training,” he murmured in her ear. “Will I let anything bad happen to you?”
She swallowed. “Define bad.”
He repressed a smile. Tara had always looked at every angle. “Will I make you bleed?”
“ No.”
She hadn’t hesitated with that answer, which filled Logan with relief and pride. She was scared, but her logic was shining through. “Will I mark your skin in any permanent way?”
“I know you won’t.”
“Will I give you more pain than you can bear?”
A small pause. “No. But what will you make me feel?”
She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. Since they’d begun working together, Tara had been desperately trying to hide her apprehension and desire, but in that moment, she dropped her mask. Her face glowed with arousal—and tightened with worry. Both were so honest that triumph rushed through him. Some small part of her was beginning to trust him with her feelings.
“You’ll feel whatever needed so that you’re willingly in my control. While our interaction may be different than Jason and Greta’s, I will do whatever necessary to make you give yourself over to me. Step up, Cherry.” He waved her against the cross. “Normally, I’d have you face away from me, but I want to see your every reaction. Back against the cross.”
She smoothed out a shuddering breath, then turned, easing against the smooth, dark wood. Every muscle in her soft body went tight. Under that pretty, pale skin, Logan was sure she fought the urge to fidget and shiver. That instinct would serve her well.
“Place yourself in the manacles and lock them.”
Her brown eyes flew up to him with a startled glance. Wisely, she held her tongue. After a moment’s hesitation, she secured her left ankle, then her right. The second she straightened up and glanced at the wrist shackles, Logan knew she was questioning her own wisdom.

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