Belong to Me (3 page)
Authors: Shayla Black
Logan stripped, then stepped into the swirl of spray and hot steam. He wasn’t stupid; psychologists would have a field day with him, if he’d ever talk to one. Fuck that. He wasn’t opening his head for some shrink. He was simply wired this way, and his emotional disconnect worked professionally. Navy SEALs had to be collected, logic firing on all cylinders. When emotions got involved, people died.
Personally, however, it sucked. Sponging off women like Callie only took him so far. He remembered those high school days when all it had taken was one look, one kiss, and he’d been brimming with so many fantasies and wants that he couldn’t process them all. But that had been before . . .
Nope, not thinking about
her
.
Nope, not thinking about
her
.
Still, once she flashed across his brain, he was unable to stop himself from wrapping his hand around the inside of his left thigh and fingering the little tattoo there. Like always, desire roared through him. Just like that, he was desperate to come.
Desperate to have what he knew he never would again.
Blocking out those thoughts, Logan jerked his hand from the tattoo and soaped his palms. He’d better get down to business before his thoughts turned into a total buzz kill.
Drawing in a cleansing breath, he closed his eyes and shut everything out except the vision of how Callie had looked minutes ago under his command. With his back to the spray, he took his cock in hand.
At the first touch, tingles shot through his groin, up his spine. He called forth the memories of the sub’s pants and moans. The scent of her arousal still lingered in his nostrils. Her trembling pleas had been hot. Desire simmered in his belly, and another stroke up his dick fanned the fire higher.
The wild need in Callie’s eyes pumped Logan with a heavy euphoria. Letting that brew in his brain, he picked up the pace, rubbed his thumb along a sensitive spot on his glans. Fire licked his balls, and the ache tightened, tingled at the base of his spine.
Part of him wished he’d taken her up on her offer and fucked her. It had been more than five years since he’d felt the silken clasp of a woman’s pussy. But nothing had changed. He had no reason to hope that being with Callie would provide any different outcome. Crushing emptiness and disappointment would level him the moment the orgasm ended—if he had one at all. The woman always either felt inadequate or irate. Sex had been that way every time he’d tried with anyone after—
No. Damn it, he wasn’t having thoughts of
her
. He had to focus on Callie and those swollen lips of hers, begging for the orgasm she’d needed with every nerve in her body, of those pleas filling him with anxious tension, arousal, fueling his own need to come.
her
. He had to focus on Callie and those swollen lips of hers, begging for the orgasm she’d needed with every nerve in her body, of those pleas filling him with anxious tension, arousal, fueling his own need to come.
Logan stroked faster. She’d been gorgeous. Once he’d curbed her sass a bit, she’d been willing to stay in the raging tumult to please him. And when he’d granted her orgasm, the pure joy in the experience had been completely heady. He’d greedily sucked in that tingling ache. Now, he anticipated that same cataclysm washing over him.
But fucking hell . . . it wasn’t happening.
He pumped faster, his arm starting to ache. The orgasm was right there, but all the usual tricks weren’t working. And Logan couldn’t pretend that he didn’t know why.
God damn it, why couldn’t he get past
her
after twelve fucking years? Memories of her still plagued him. Her sweet, bee stung lips as she looked up at him, wearing nothing but a shy smile. The vulnerability obvious in her trembling chin, shining from her big brown eyes, when she’d confessed it was her first time. Knowing he’d been the first man to kiss the soft curve of her neck, feel the pink berry nipple against his tongue, lap up the flavor of her sweet cream, and hear the startled cry of her first orgasm . . .
her
after twelve fucking years? Memories of her still plagued him. Her sweet, bee stung lips as she looked up at him, wearing nothing but a shy smile. The vulnerability obvious in her trembling chin, shining from her big brown eyes, when she’d confessed it was her first time. Knowing he’d been the first man to kiss the soft curve of her neck, feel the pink berry nipple against his tongue, lap up the flavor of her sweet cream, and hear the startled cry of her first orgasm . . .
Tension torqued in Logan’s gut as the water pounded his back. His palm glided up and down his hungry cock as those well-traveled memories crashed over him again. The trust in her eyes as she’d parted her virgin thighs, the way she’d whispered that she loved him, too, with unblinking honesty as she took him inside her body for the first time.
The only time.
My Cherry
.
.
Now stroking his cock like a wild man, Logan reached down to rub at the tattoo again. He couldn’t see it or feel it, but he’d put it there years ago to remind him of her. He pictured her as she’d been that spring afternoon, lying beneath him, eyes wide with startled desire, delicate nails digging into his shoulders. His balls filled with scalding need now, drew up tight. Orgasm sizzled through his blood, then exploded until he released a thick stream of semen onto the shower’s black tiles.
In seconds, the sensation fizzled. He panted, propping himself up with a palm against the wall and released his softening cock. His heartbeat slowed.
And once again, he was left to feel exactly how pathetic he was because he could only come by thinking about a girl who’d surely gotten over him long ago. A girl, now a woman, whom he’d never have the chance to touch again.
The self-loathing had barely started to suck the pleasure from his orgasm when a knock sounded. Fuck, that would be Xander. Logan would rather ignore his friend, but he’d put Callie in the other man’s hands; ensuring that she was okay now was his responsibility.
Turning off the spray, he yanked a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist. “What?”
“You done fingering your cherry yet?”
God damn it, he hated that Xander knew him so well. “Bite my ass.”
“I am
not
, nor will I ever be, interested in your ass,” Xander called through the door. “You decent? ’Cause I don’t want to see your junk.”
not
, nor will I ever be, interested in your ass,” Xander called through the door. “You decent? ’Cause I don’t want to see your junk.”
As if he never had during the course of a scene, which was how Xander knew about his hidden tattoo in the first place.
Logan rolled his eyes. “If you don’t like it, don’t look.”
Xander pushed the door open, his olive cheeks flushed, his dark hair mussed. He looked relieved to see the towel around Logan’s waist. “Callie is fine. All sated, praised, and cuddled.”
With a nod, Logan turned away, hoping his pal would get the hint.
No such luck. Xander merely crossed his arms over his chest, cocky grin stretched across his face, and looked at him expectantly.
Damn
. Logan sighed. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
. Logan sighed. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
“After working at a BDSM resort where my primary job was to take care of women like her, it’s no sweat. And unlike those women, she didn’t act like I was beneath her afterward, which was a nice bonus.” Xander shrugged. “It was a good fuck. I should thank you for priming her so thoroughly. I had to pause twice to slow down her slew of orgasms. The girl still doesn’t have much self-control.”
Another problem for another day. Maybe if he dropped his towel, Xander would leave.
Logan let go of the damp terrycloth. It slithered to the floor as he reached for his leathers.
“Oh, dude.” In the mirror, Logan could see Xander turn away with a wince. “Warn a guy next time, huh?”
Shoving on his leathers, he zipped them up and shrugged. “You’re the one who insists on barging in on my bathroom time. You get what you deserve.”
“You’re shooting the messenger. I’m just here to tell you that Thorpe wants to see you.”
Mitchell Thorpe. Logan held in a curse, hoping like hell that Dominion’s owner wasn’t going to chew his ass out for pushing Callie so hard. Thorpe had a soft spot for her. Logan thought it was more like a blind spot. Any other sub who’d been so damn near untrainable would have been out on her ass long ago.
“Why?”
“I’m not exactly sure. He’s getting all the Doms together. I’m guessing it has something to do with the FBI being here.” Xander slapped him on the back. “Welcome back.”
“YOU dragged my ass out of the shower for—” Logan paused as Mitchell Thorpe glared at him with cold gray eyes, then yanked back the black drape covering the one-way mirror. Logan’s jaw dropped at the sight. “Oh, holy shit.”
Around him, half a dozen other Doms all whistled and looked their fill.
“I thought she’d get your attention,” Thorpe drawled.
Completely. Logan’s gaze glued itself hungrily to the graceful line of her spine, cut in half by a gray sports bra. Tight black running shorts barely covered the lush globes of her ass. Though the beauty was way overdressed for her role, she sat back on her knees, legs spread, pose submissive.
Mercy!
Mercy!
Logan rubbed his jaw. But the ache coursing through him wasn’t under his two days’ growth of beard; it had quickly settled south, behind his straining zipper, despite his orgasm fifteen minutes ago. Desire sizzled through him, along with shock. For the first time in years, he not only wanted inside a woman, he was desperate for it. Trying to cool down and process this development, he grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby cooler and drained half in two swallows.
Thorpe cleared his throat, clearly expecting a reply. As Logan forced himself to look at the club’s owner, a thousand responses ran through his head. Finally, he settled for something factual. “With that curvy ass and fiery hair? Yeah, she’s got my attention.”
He
really
had a thing for redheads. Always had.
really
had a thing for redheads. Always had.
In fact, everything about this woman set off Logan’s buttons. Such fair skin. He’d bet it would be damn soft and look so prettily pink after a good spanking. She radiated femininity, from the slender neck just under her pile of vibrant hair atop her head, to the sensual flare of her hips. Already, he wanted her the way he hadn’t wanted anyone in years—down, dirty, insatiably. Completely. He wanted to penetrate her, violate her, subjugate her. Every moment he watched her, the desire grew. Logan swallowed.
An unfamiliar thirtysomething man in jeans beside her issued orders. Logan couldn’t hear through the glass. Granted, he wasn’t the best at reading lips, but he thought the guy told her to bow her head. The stranger’s physique looked powerful enough to enforce his will . . . but he lacked any sort of commanding presence.
“Is this poser her Dom?” Logan drained the rest of his water bottle, wondering who the guy on the other side of the glass thought he was kidding.
Thorpe sighed. “Not yet. He needs to be. These two are actually FBI agents, training for an upcoming undercover assignment to break up a sex ring and rescue another agent. They’ve been in Axel’s dungeon for nearly a week. We’re not getting anywhere.”
“I have to be honest; it’s looking hopeless.” Axel, the club’s resident Dom, sighed.
In that instant, Logan knew that Thorpe had called together all the club’s Doms in the hopes that one of them could step in and train the delicious redhead in the next room. Yeah, she was still kneeling at the other man’s feet, but she had her hands on her hips. The sway of her body and the bobs of her head told Logan, she was giving her “Dom” an earful. He smiled.
Suddenly, he was damn glad he’d left Tyler, Texas, for Dallas during his leave to blow off some pent-up steam. Logan loved the navy, but constant missions to third world shit holes didn’t give him many opportunities to indulge in his kink of choice. But after yesterday, he needed to release tension even more. Over breakfast with his dad, Logan had seen an engagement announcement in the Tyler
Morning Telegraph
that had knocked him flat.
She
was fucking marrying Brad Thompson. Every muscle in Logan’s body tensed at the thought of that raving ass-hat touching her, planting his children in her womb.
Morning Telegraph
that had knocked him flat.
She
was fucking marrying Brad Thompson. Every muscle in Logan’s body tensed at the thought of that raving ass-hat touching her, planting his children in her womb.
“You trying to crush that plastic?” Xander whispered, brow raised.
Thorpe, Axel, and the other Doms all stared.
Logan looked down and realized that he’d pulverized his water bottle. Muttering a curse, he threw it in the trash can, then focused on the scene through the glass. “She’s not submitting to him and she never will.”
“Which is where one of you comes in. Axel has agreed to coach the male agent one-on-one. But that leaves the female, and she needs a
strong
hand. I don’t have time for a project.”
strong
hand. I don’t have time for a project.”
Before anyone else could say a word, Logan volunteered. “I’ll do it.”
Thorpe paused, sizing him up. Logan refused to flinch or blink.
“Since you like the defiant ones, I thought this might be up your alley,” Thorpe stated. “But will you be too much for our little FBI agent? It’s her first field assignment.”
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