Initiation (Master Class Book 1) (6 page)

Logan had been there the whole time, never more than a couple of feet away, touching her. And when she’d come, he’d given her the support of his body as well as his confidence.

She felt connected to him in a way she hadn’t with anyone else.

It overwhelmed her.

“Are you ready to continue?”

She might come undone without the mastery of his body. “Yes.” Then she remembered his earlier prompting. “Please, Sir.”

Devilment played in his eyes, and his scar no longer seemed as deeply pronounced. She wondered if the fact that he’d made her feel so safe took away the perception of danger. A flash of feminine intuition warned her the thought was a risky one. Men didn’t get scars like that from choosing a safe, secure life. Noelle had told her he’d been in the Middle East. Obviously he hadn’t returned unscathed. Jennifer wondered how deep the scars ran.

“How do your nipples feel?”

His question jolted her from her thoughts. Now that the height of the orgasm had faded, she was aware of a dull ache. “They’re throbbing a little.”

He plumped her breasts.

She sucked in a breath. The sensation was exquisite, wonderful, sharp, delicious, addictive.

“Just a little?”

“Yes, Master Logan.”

“Let’s see about that.” He threaded an index finger though each of the slender metal rings that were attached to the ends and yanked.

The shocking pain made her scream.

“That’s better,” he said.

“
Fucking hell.
” Her clit throbbed as arousal crashed into her.

Logan grinned.

She realized his action had been calculated. The man knew how to get a reaction, and, more, how to turn her on.

With an achingly gentle motion, he smoothed his thumbs over the tips of her breasts.

She gulped then let out a soft sigh. The juxtaposition of the sensual and the painful caused her synapses to misfire.

“How are you doing?” He released the rings.

“Fine.” Jennifer scowled, as if surprised by her own answer.

A lock of hair had fallen onto her forehead, and he feathered it back before again pressing a finger against her clit.

She rocked forward, silently asking for more.

“So needy,” he said.

“Yes.” She looked at him through the fringe of her eyelashes. “I want you to flog me. Or allow me to come again. Or take off the clamps. Something.” All she knew was, she was crawling out of her mind.

When he didn’t react, her thoughts tumbled. Then she remembered he wanted to be addressed formally. “Sir,” she pleaded.

“My pleasure.”

As she watched, he unfastened the buttons at his wrists and turned back his cuffs. She couldn’t look away from his strong hands or the sinews in his forearms. This man…

He placed a finger beneath her chin and tipped it back. “Tell me your safe word.”

“Marshmallow.”

“You wrinkle your nose every time you say that.”

The conversation seemed friendly, at odds with her being secured to the St. Andrew’s cross, half-naked, nipples clamped and a mad ache between her thighs.

“And if you need to slow down?”

“Yellow. Can we get on with it?”

His eyes flared with desire. This was so much more than she’d anticipated.

Rather than responding, he picked up the flogger.

She squirmed. Logan looked bigger than he had, broader, more intimidating. Heaven help her, it thrilled her. The throbbing in her nipples intensified.

He moved behind her, increasing her feeling of helplessness.

She expected to feel the leather searing her skin. Instead, he traced his fingers across each of her shoulders, then down her spine, stopping at the top of her panties. Suddenly Jennifer wished she had been brave enough to strip entirely. She wanted his touch on her bare skin.

Through the material of her underwear, he rubbed her buttocks before trailing lower to her thighs.

As she relaxed, she spread her fingers wide and pressed against the wood.

“That’s right,” he said soothingly.

He made smaller and smaller circles, and her body tingled.

She closed her eyes. Eventually there seemed to be nothing but the sounds of monks chanting and her own rapid breaths.

Then…silence reverberated.

In response to the fear that started to sneak in, she tightened her muscles.

“If you relax, it won’t hurt as much.”

She took a steadying breath before exhaling.

He draped the leather strands over her shoulder then drew them down in a sensual caress.

The first fall against her buttocks felt like a light sting.

“Unclench your ass,” he told her.

“I’m trying.”

He stroked her back with his hand and the flogger’s strands.

“Let go. Surrender. Experience.” He stunned her by reaching between her legs to play with her still-damp pussy.

She bent her knees as much as she could, seeking. “More,” she begged, wanting him inside her. “Please.”

“You’ll get everything you want.”

He moved away and gave her the first hit that hurt.

She stiffened. Then, remembering his coaching, she forced out a breath.

Another strike fell, followed by several more, one after another.

Her dreams had not come close to the thrill of reality. The leather was wicked and sensuous, all at the same time. It burned, stung, and when the sensations receded, she was left with an unfulfilled need crawling through her. She was turned on, horny, desperate.

Her nipples hardened, throbbing.

He went on and on, the tips of the strands landing on her buttocks and thighs, her back, hitting every place at once, in dull, biting thuds.

“Breathe,” he coached her. “Surrender.”

She did, giving up the struggle, willing her muscles to soften.

He then flogged her in earnest, back and forth, crisscrossing her body, blazing trails of sensation.

Jennifer’s entire being rose to another level of awareness. Her temperature spiked, and she began to perspire. Her muscles and sinews were supple. As he’d suggested, she allowed the restraints to be a saving grace, and she curled her hands around them for extra support.

Then, as if intuitively reading her mind, Logan increased the pressure.

He hit her ass so hard the wind seemed to be knocked out of her. Jennifer’s pussy got wetter, stunning her. The clamps bit deeper.

“You’re behaving perfectly.”

She wasn’t sure whether she was or she wasn’t. All she knew was she hoped he wouldn’t stop.

For long minutes, he flogged her, his motions rhythmic. A light, glancing blow made her sigh. Then he caught her beneath her buttocks with a sharp upward swing, and she screamed.

“That’s it, on your toes.”

His constant hits made her squirm. Then they became worse. “Oh God.” She wasn’t sure whether she said it out loud or whether it echoed in her head.

Relentlessly, he continued. His next few dozen hits seared her.
Yellow
raced through her mind, but before she could form it, he changed his pattern, striking her with gentle smacks. This was more of a dance. Then…all of her thoughts ceased.

Her eyes were closed, but she saw twinkling lights, so blue they appeared white.

She stopped struggling, with him, the process, herself. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized what he’d meant when he’d told her to do that, but now she did. There was no conflict, just a calm acceptance, then an expectation, a welcoming.

She heard the faint sound of a bell ringing, then the sound of chants, soft, then louder. She seemed to be floating, between somewhere and nowhere at all.

Every part of her body vibrated, and she’d never been needier.

It took her a long while to realize that the flogging had stopped, and that he’d already released her right wrist. He was rubbing it when she opened her eyes.

“Easy. Take it easy.”

If I can move at all.

His body was pressed tight against hers, and the denim of his jeans scratched against her skin. And for the first time, she inhaled the scent of him—the crispness of a winter night, the undeniable appeal of masculine strength.

Earlier, his size and shadowed past had unnerved her. Now it gave her a sense of peace, made her feel protected.

With deft motions, he unfastened her left wrist and rubbed the chafed skin. That he was capable of such tenderness astounded her.

“Let me look at you.”

She hadn’t realized he’d unfastened her ankles.

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him.

“I’m going to remove the nipple clamps,” he said. “Fair warning. It will hurt.”

He removed the first one, and a sharp sting pierced her. But he closed his mouth around the abused tip and sucked on it until pleasure replaced pain.

She drew a breath before he took off the second.

After he was done, he helped her over to a bench. She sat while he turned down the volume of the music.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Incomplete.
Somewhat bereft.
Unsure how to explain those emotions, she wrapped her arms around herself. “Earlier, you said we might have sex…”

“And…?” He stood in front of her. His eyes, a darker jade than they had been earlier, banked with intensity, devoured her.

She reached inside for the confidence to ask for what she wanted, the courage to be herself. “I’d like you to fuck me, Master Logan.”

Logan crouched in front of her and framed her face between his palms. There was a hesitation in her voice that gave him pause. “Do you want to think about it? Wait until you’re a little steadier?”

Dead-on, she met his gaze. “No.”

“You were pretty far gone.”

“I want sex, Sir.”

He liked to give his subs what they wanted after a scene, from snuggling to a long conversation, even sharing a hot bath. One submissive had stunned him by wanting to go for a run, but this…? With a woman he barely knew and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about?

“I need you inside me. I…”

He waited.

She exhaled shakily. “I want the connection.”

“I’ll give you anything you desire, Jennifer. It doesn’t have to be through sex,” he told her.

“Do you have condoms with you?” Her voice showed her exasperation.

The woman was in complete control of her faculties. “Yes. I have condoms.”

“Then get one.”

A grin pulled at his mouth. “Get one?”

“That wasn’t very submissive, was it? What I meant was, get one, Master Logan.”

Her playfulness revealed another side of her personality. The more he saw, the more he liked. “You do have a few things to learn.”

“Please,” she added.

“Much, much better, sub.” Since he’d first touched her, he’d wanted to fuck her. Flogging her had only driven up his need. “Upstairs. In one of the bedrooms.” Where he could pin her down and drive into her.

“I’d prefer to do it here.”

He was astounded by how wide her blue eyes were. “Here?”

“Now.”

“You have something in mind?” He was intrigued.

A Muse song filtered through the play area, all but encouraging sex.

“I do.”

“In that case…” He released his hold on her face then stood.

She shrugged off the unfastened bra, dropped it on the nearby pile of clothes then rolled her shoulders back. Her invitation was blatant and appreciated.

Logan pulled out his wallet and extracted a condom.

She held out a hand.

Quirking an eyebrow, he tossed it toward her. Without breaking the bond of their gazes, she caught it and closed her hand.

Yeah.
It had been a long fucking time since he’d been captivated so powerfully. Though he’d never admit it to her, this woman had the potential to lead him around by the dick.

He bent to remove his boots, but she stopped him.

“May I?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Certainly, little sub.”

She gracefully slid off the bench then knelt, spreading her legs to make room for his foot.

“This would be better if you’d taken off the underwear,” he said.

“Spoken like a typical man.”

“Ouch,” he replied.

Jennifer removed each of his boots in turn. He couldn’t remember if his ex-girlfriend, Helen, had ever performed such an intimate act for him. He enjoyed the purity of Jennifer’s little act of service.

She knelt up and shuddered as he tugged his belt from its loops. “Do you want to feel this on your ass?” he asked.

“I’d never thought about it before. But suddenly I’m fascinated.”

That made two of them. The idea of her being over his knee, scrabbling for purchase while he spanked her, made his cock throb.

He removed his shirt, and she accepted it, maintaining eye contact as she placed it on the bench next to her. Then he unzipped his pants.

“Commando?” she asked.

“Always.”

Her eyes widened when he dropped his jeans and she looked at his erect dick. “Is it because you can’t find anything to fit over that thing, Sir?”

He grinned at her humor.

As if mesmerized, she continued to stare.

“The fit will be fine. Just fine.”

“Can I have your word on that?”

He finished undressing and said, “Put the condom on me.”

With deliberation, she ripped open the package. But instead of rolling the latex down his cock, she stood and wiggled out of her panties.

Seeing her there, small, naked, vulnerable, made his protective instincts blaze. He wanted to possess her and never let her go.

He raised a finger, indicating she wait while he swept his gaze over her, from her full breasts to the tormented nipples that still bore marks from his clamps, to the gentle swell of her belly, the curve of her hips, her neatly trimmed pussy. “You’re beautiful, Jennifer.”

She grinned. “You are too, Master Logan.”

“Cheeky wench.”

Without being instructed, she slid to her knees and reached for him.

She cupped his testicles in her left hand and stroked his shaft with the other. At first she used long, sweeping motions, then began to use shorter, faster ones.

“The condom.” He put his hand on hers, stilling her. “
Now.
”

“Yes, Master Logan.” Her tone was proper. The way she glanced up at him was anything but.