Initiation (Master Class Book 1) (11 page)

She screamed as the climax rocked her from the inside out.

The world shattered, went bright, then… Nothing. Silent. Still. Empty.

He released her ankles then the clamps before helping her to stand.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“I love a fast learner.”

He helped her to the couch where he pulled her into his lap and rubbed her arms against the chill.

Outside, a storm now raged. Wind whipped the snow sideways, obliterating the view of Denver. It was as if they were sealed off from the rest of civilization.

She recalled his earlier response when he’d talked about keeping the civilized world separate from his.

“I guess we’re staying,” he said long minutes later.

She became aware of the scratchy denim on the tawse marks and also the strength of his arms. If this was his world, she liked being part of it.

He fetched a blanket from the bedroom and covered her with it.

They turned on the television to watch classic movies, but he kept the volume low enough that they could talk.

A few hours later, he straightened the area then poured her a glass of white wine while he warmed up the ingredients for lunch.

She scooted around so she could watch him work, and since her body was naked and a little fatigued, she felt no guilt in letting him wait on her. “How does a private eye become so adept in the kitchen?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, as he removed lids from the sour cream and guacamole. “I’m great with reheating and putting takeout on plates. I’m more interested in consuming enough calories than the way they taste.”

“Seriously? I enjoy cooking.”

“Don’t misunderstand.” He met her gaze. “I like eating excellent home-cooked meals.”

“It wasn’t an invitation.”

“Damn.”

She grinned.

“But in the military, I learned to eat when I could. And now, on surveillance, sometimes food is the only thing that keeps me awake and focused.”

“Do you do it a lot? Surveillance, I mean.”

He turned away to stir the peppers, onions and chicken. “More than I want.”

“What are you looking for, cheating spouses?”

Logan looked over his shoulder at her. “Not once.”

“So what do you do?”

“I generally don’t talk about it.”

“I’m curious about the guy who spanked my ass and fucked me until I almost passed out.”

“Me?” he asked, turning back to her.

She grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him.

Effortlessly, he captured it and set it on a counter.

Realizing he was almost finished, she stood.

“Going somewhere?”

“Uhm, to put on some clothes.”

“Was there a part of
I want you naked
that you didn’t understand?”

Heat bloomed in her face. “But—”

“The BDSM thing isn’t pretend for me,” he said. “Unless you’d like to forgo it for the rest of the weekend?”

It’s a boundary during a scene, helps separate the civilized world from mine.

“This isn’t a scene.” She blinked. “Unless I’m confused? I thought unless…”

“Go on.”

“Unless you were flogging me or we were having sex…” Her entire body felt as if it were filled by pinpricks. “Well, that we were just friends.”

“I don’t have a lot of interest in being just friends, Jennifer.”

“Then…what?”

“We’re in one big long scene.”

“We can’t be friends?”

“I want to be more than friends.”

She looked at him over the rim of the wineglass. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“I like you, Jennifer. We’re compatible. At least the way you screamed my name and came all over my hand seems to indicate you enjoy sex with me. And maybe I’m premature, but I’m guessing you may want to do it again.”

“Friends with benefits?” Her voice oozed the sarcasm that churned in her.

“Don’t be crass.”

“Me? Isn’t that your suggestion?” she demanded. “That we meet up again later to fuck?”

“With us being exclusive to each other.”

“And me being naked.”

“Yes. And exposed to me. For me. I want to explore this with you, Jennifer. See where it goes. Don’t diminish what we have.” His eyes were dark, and lines of annoyance were etched around them. “I told you, I will take whatever you’re willing to give.”

All of a sudden, she realized she’d offended him without meaning to. How the hell they had gone from chatting to this, she had no idea.

“Let go of the blanket, sub.”

His tone was melded from steel. And she knew this was much more than a battle of wills. Did she want to see him again? Agree to his demands? All she knew was that the sex had turned her on. The flogging, his supple, unyielding belt, the dastardly tawse…she’d liked them all. Even though she’d only had a short time with him, she wanted to see him again. The future of missionary-only sex now seemed unacceptable.

She dropped the blanket.

“Glad that’s settled.” He gave her a curt nod then turned back to the stove.

Damnable, infuriating woman. Sub.

Logan allowed his gaze to linger on her feminine shape. He couldn’t get enough of her. The more he scened with her, the more he wanted. He was consumed with ideas of what he wanted to do to her, for her.

He wondered what the hell had happened since he’d first noticed her almost a month ago. Gorgeous, curious, challenging… Jennifer appealed to his base nature. Add in her responsiveness and he was a grinning, happy idiot.

He’d never had this kind of reaction to anyone else. And the idea of letting her go tomorrow and just being friends? Hoping that they bumped into each other at a future play party and that she was alone? Competing for her against other Doms? Not a fucking chance.

He grabbed plates, silverware and placemats.

“Can I help?”

Doing household chores, naked? “Yes.”

He admired her crimson bottom when she joined him in the kitchen. At least one of his marks lingered on her thigh, and her abused nipples were taut.

As she worked, he carried in the food.

She’d placed him at the head of the table with her seated to his right. Intentionally? If not, it was further proof of her great instincts. “More wine?”

When she nodded, he topped off her glass. It’d be a few more hours before they scened again, and he’d make sure this was the last she drank if she wanted to play.

“Thank you for this,” she said. “I’m feeling spoiled.” She picked up a chip and dipped it into the guacamole. “Delicious.”

“Made better by the company.”

“You say that to all naked women.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever had at my table.”

“Even the woman who dumped you on Valentine’s Day?”

“So nice of you to remind me.” He took a drink of the Mexican beer he’d found in the refrigerator.

“Sorry.”

“Said in the
not sorry
tone.”

She shrugged, the motion accentuating her breasts. It cost him all his resolve to stay in his seat instead of morphing into a Neanderthal, slinging her over his shoulder and hauling her up the stairs to dump her on the bed before fucking her fast, slow and every speed in between.

“Not even Helen.”

“Why me?”

“You had the interest in BDSM. Common ground. Helen came to it through me. And I want to explore it more with you.”

“I bring out your inner Dom?”

Yeah.
“Or something a bit less civilized.”

“But no less polite.”

“Shrug like that again and we’ll find out.”

He expected her to blush. Instead, she folded her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up and out seductively.

“I will never make you eat naked again,” he vowed.

“I may never wear clothes again,” she responded. “Sir.”

When he was about halfway finished with the meal, she said, “Back to the surveillance.”

“I thought I changed the topic earlier.”

“You did.” She crunched another chip.

“You’re persistent.”

“If we’re going to be fucking—”

“It will be so much more than that.”

“Will it?” She sat back.

She said it as if it were his choice, his decision. He knew what he wanted. Her. But could she put up with him? His schedule? His commitment to his work? The ghosts that still shrouded his days? How independent was she? He knew she wanted to pursue her career, and he was fine with that. Maybe, just maybe, they could both get what they needed. “If you’re agreeable,” he responded finally.

“In that case, I want to know about your business.”

“That’s something I only discuss with my closest associates.”

“I’m the one seated at the table next to you, naked,” she countered. “And you told me that you and Helen had issues, some of them because of your job. You kept her out of your private life. If you meant what you said, that you are interested in whatever I’ll give you, then I won’t be kept out of your private life.”

“Fair enough.” He considered how much to tell her.

“It’s dangerous?”

Logan didn’t reply immediately. He didn’t want her frightened. On the other hand, there were times he didn’t arrive home in time for dinner. He’d been shot at, sucker-punched and kicked in the kidneys so hard that he’d peed blood for a week. He kept his freezer filled with ice packs, and he’d been known to sleep for forty hours at one time. “It can be.” Absently he traced the scar then abruptly dropped his hand.

“I didn’t know being a PI was risky.”

“Depends on the kinds of things being investigated.” He took another drink. She was right. If they were going to go forward, if she was eventually going to give him her complete submission, she deserved some information. Maybe more than he’d told anyone but Joe. “At the moment I’m working an illegal arms dealing scheme.”

She blinked. “Shouldn’t the government be pursuing that?”

“They are.”

“And you’re…” She blinked, looked away, then back at him as if the last piece of a puzzle had just been tapped into place. “Doing the same sort of thing that you were in the Middle East.”

“You could say that.”

Jennifer was obviously choosing her words. He’d answered her questions, but he hadn’t offered any clarification or further information, and she was smart enough to figure that out.

“So you’re working for the government,” she surmised.

“Not exclusively. But yes. I do some high-tech business stuff, too.”

She closed her eyes. “You do counterterrorism work.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. “Sorry you asked?”

“I need to know what I’m facing.” She leaned toward him and traced the scar that he’d so recently touched.

He was tempted to grab her wrist. Wanted to. Needed to.

Instead, he allowed her to do what she needed to.

“A relationship with you won’t be easy.”

“Not always,” he agreed.

“You told me you forgot Valentine’s Day, for example.”

“Yes.”

“She said you were the world’s biggest asshole.”

“True.” He shrugged. “I’m sure as hell not proud of it.”

“Does that go for birthdays? Anniversaries? Christmas?”

“It has. All of the above.”

“Is it worth it?”

“Only you can decide.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I have more than enough money to take care of us. That will allow you the freedom to start your own business. And I’ll encourage you. In fact, I need someone to do my books.”

“I’m a CPA not a bookkeeper.”

“Meaning you’ll do what you need to but it will cost me a pile of money?”

She smiled. “A shitpile.”

“That’s a lot.”

“A lot, a lot,” she confirmed. “And it will probably give me insight into your business that you may not be comfortable with.”

“I could be talked into taking that chance.”

She ran her finger around the rim of her mostly still-full glass. “What else? Spankings?”

“Always.”

“Fucking?”

He met her gaze. Her eyes were open wide, those lashes impossibly long. “In your hot little pussy. Your tight ass. And your mouth. Until you cry for mercy.”

“I…” She dropped her hand into her lap.

“Heard enough? If so, let’s get started on either the mouth or the ass fucking.” He gave her a wicked, evil grin. “Since I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you decide which.”

“You are generous, Sir.”

“Your choice?”

“Uhm… Anal scares me a bit. So oral?”

“Nice try. A proper sub would have said whatever I would like best.”

The color drained from her face.

“Mercy on a new sub?”

“Oh, Jennifer. Jennifer, Jennifer. Don’t you realize yet?” He reached out and put his fingers on hers. “Anything you want.”

“So oral?”

“Anything but that.”

Her eyes went wide. Her breath caught. Her shoulders were rigid.

“Please stand, turn your chair backward and grab hold of the back.”

Chapter Eight

“Are you really going to…?” Breathless, unable to think, let alone form the question, she trailed off.

When he didn’t respond, she squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, wondering what the hell she was thinking.

His honesty was a real, raw thing. He’d been open in admitting that he wanted to be more than fuck buddies, and that any relationship would be challenging. Jennifer knew he’d push her physically and mentally.

The scar he bore was a stark, physical reminder of the daily debt he paid to Joe and the friends he’d lost.

He’d never quit. He’d forget holidays and he might be on surveillance, unreachable during key moments.

Yet… Sex with him was spectacular. He didn’t expect her to give up who she was to be his hostess. In fact, he seemed to want to push her to explore her own wants and desires, to become more of the person she wanted to be.

He scared her in the most delicious way possible.

“You always have a safe word. I hope you won’t need it, want it. But I’m reminding you that it’s available in every area, in discussion, in sex, in reality. You’re in charge.”

Feeling unbelievably sexy and sinful, she stood and did what he’d said, holding on to the top of the chair.

He took another drink of his beer before putting the bottle down. “Your ass is mine tonight.”