Naughty Bits Part IV: The Highest Bid (3 page)

Troy dipped his head to kiss her, and yes, it looked like he was taking the lead in their dance, holding Shale securely in his strong arms, her body melted into his, swaying in rhythm.

“But now watch . . . see her hand . . .”

Her fingers, gripping his biceps, tightened, her nails biting into his skin, a clear order. Troy’s head lifted, his lips wet, his eyes fastened on hers. Madison had seen that switch happen in his gaze before, like the day she’d played the role of stern librarian at Naughty Bits and teased him about being late with his books. She’d also seen it when Logan spoke to him a certain way. Troy was in control of this moment, but would hand Shale that control the way he’d hand her a whip to strike his flesh. With anticipation and the pleasure of serving both their needs.

“There are well-defined D/s relationships, Madison,” Logan said. “With clear boundaries. They serve the needs of those involved in them. There might be affection there, trust, a form of caring and partnership that’s highly valued. But then there’s the wild card. Love. It can change the rules, destroy them, rebuild them, in accordance with the people involved, not fitting any set of rules or etiquette, or bullshit terminology. That’s why being in love is the scariest relationship. It risks the soul, but it’s the one thing in the whole universe worth that risk. That’s why Alice said you were the braver of the two of you. You’ve risked yours over and over.”

“But what if I’m not like Troy? What if—”

“You’re not like Troy.” He tipped up her chin, held it, his hand a light collar on her throat that riveted all her attention on him. “You’re Madison. All you need to be is who you are.”

It was then she realized the trust he kept talking about in D/s was something far more harrowing than restraints and spankings. It was believing what he was telling her and acting accordingly. She had a monument to self-doubt built up inside of her, augmented by every failed relationship. He was telling her she could destroy it, sweep the pieces out of her subconscious entirely.

“You still didn’t answer the question,” she said at last, swallowing. “About yourself.”

“I think the answer will scare you.”

“Everything about you scares me.”

His eyes darkened with regret, compassion, and something else, something that really made her wish they’d done this before she’d received that package. His body was so firm beneath her, his scent in her nose. All she wanted to do was immerse herself in him. As if he picked up on the thought, he traced her lips with a finger, and she bit him, an act of pure sexual and emotional frustration. He gave her an exasperated look, but then he answered her.

“I haven’t had a session with anyone at the club or outside of it, other than Troy or an instructional demo, since you arrived in town.”

That would have been during Alice’s last few days, which meant weeks before she and Logan had actually met. Her gaze snapped up to him, searching his face for the truth. He was right. Seeing the truth there scared her.

“Why?”

He held her gaze. “My promise to Alice. She gave you to me, and I knew you needed a man who was faithful to you in all ways.”

“How am I supposed to even respond to that? It makes me feel like I’m obligated—”

“To do nothing.” His tone was sharp enough to cut through the music, draw brief attention from other booths. It startled her, but it was highly effective. She pressed her lips together, unsure, but he shook his head. “I told you before. There is no obligation on your part, Madison. Only to follow where your feelings take you. C’mon. Stop this. Dance with me some more.”

He dragged her out of the booth, whirled her back onto the floor. She was stiff at first, but he wasn’t going to let her brood on it. When Troy and Shale engaged them in a four-way marathon of spinning and gyrating, she had to let go of her worries and hold on to Logan instead unless she wanted broken ankles. He was a relaxed dancer, not as accomplished and loose-hipped as Troy, but one who enjoyed the music and could move well with his partner, as he proved by holding her securely as they pivoted and turned together, his hands on her waist, grasping her fingers, or sometimes bringing her back full against him with a large hand cupped on the side of her neck, the other on her hip as she wrapped her arms around his upper torso and enjoyed just moving with him.

Shale and Troy eventually wove themselves back into their choreography, switching partners so she danced with Troy and Logan with Shale. Another turn brought her and Shale together. Shale gave her a conspiratorial wink and turned Madison in her arms, wrapping both arms low on Madison’s waist as they faced the two men and Shale took at nip at her throat.

The act caused about half the males on the dance floor to trip over their tongues. Troy’s eyes sparkled at his Mistress’s teasing. Logan gave them his slow grin, though he captured Madison’s hand and pulled her firmly back to his side with a stern finger pointing at Shale. She crossed her eyes at him.

It was pure, sexy fun, from beginning to end. By the time they were ready to call it a night, Madison was doing exactly what he’d suggested. Being who she was, as well as having the pleasure of discovering more of what that meant. She’d been doing it since the day she’d taken over Naughty Bits. Though she realized he’d been her facilitator throughout, she wasn’t entirely passive in the process. Not at all. And that helped her take a sledgehammer to that monument of self-doubt a little more enthusiastically. Maybe a lot more.

* * *

Troy left with Shale in her car, and Logan drove Madison back to hers at the store. Logan walked her to it, took her keys and opened it, looking inside before handing them back. It was the act of a courteous Southern gentleman, but there was that additional component to it as well, him taking charge in a way that kept her nerves humming pleasurably from the close proximity.

The rules could be bent, right? Yes, but with consequences. She thought about those twenty-five switches. She had no doubt Logan would carry through with them. Then she thought of that look Troy had given his Mistress when her nails dug into his biceps. That was part of it for them, wasn’t it? The line between misbehavior that was improper, unwelcome, and stepping across the line to give his Mistress the opportunity to administer punishment. Two needs being met. It was a delicate dance, but one that didn’t require much thought at all on her part. Just being who she was.

Logan bent to brush her lips with his, an obviously restrained gesture with so much more vibrating beneath it. “See you Monday,” he said.

She played along, wanting to goad him a little. “So what are you doing with your weekend?”

“Making some renovations at the house. I’m preparing for a new tenant and I want to make sure everything is in place to keep her there for a good long time.”

He gave her a wink while her stomach fluttered. When he started to step back, she curled her fingers into the spaces between the buttons of his shirt, holding on. He paused, eyes finding hers.

“Please kiss me, Master,” she whispered. “Really kiss me. I’d rather take a punishment later than not have that now.”

He put his hands on her shoulders, and she sighed into his mouth as his lips sealed over hers. Slow, but not restrained. It was a thorough, overwhelming kiss that had her sliding her arms under his so she could get even closer. He let go of her shoulders to frame her jaw and throat with both hands, hold her there as her lips parted and his tongue mated with hers. Then he had her against her car, his body trapping her there, so she dug her fingers into his back and made a needy sound in her throat.

She’d loved dancing with him, loved talking with him. She teased him about being the all-knowing guru of BDSM, but she clung to every word as he taught her about it, secure in his knowledge about a world that was both so new and yet instinctively familiar to her. He didn’t talk to her the way he talked to Troy. It was like he was her personal guide, her partner, not just a temporary teacher. It was different, the same way it was different for Troy and Shale.

She stopped thinking. She let go of everything but being kissed by Logan Scott, thinking of him as hers. Her Master and no one else’s.

When he lifted his head at last, they stared at each other. Nothing needed to be said, but so many possibilities whirled in the air between them. He gestured toward her car door. “Get in so I can make sure you’re safe and on your way before I go back into my shop.”

“Will you work late tonight?”

“I have a piece I’m finishing.”

“I’d like to stay and watch. May I?”

“I’m not much of a conversationalist when I’m working. It’s important to focus, to be sure I’m creating what the person is wanting.”

“I just want to watch.” She tilted her head, giving him a look intended to be humorous, but instead she stayed serious. “I’ll only speak if spoken to.”

She loved those sparks that ignited in his brown eyes. He had triggers for his Master cravings, the same as she had for her submissive ones. Maybe she wasn’t a full octane sub like Troy, but maybe worrying that she wouldn’t be as much of a sub as Logan wanted was inhibiting her getting in touch with just how much of a submissive she really was. She could already imagine the ways he might let her “watch” if she fully embraced her desires in that regard.

“Your pulse just increased and I can feel your nipples becoming harder. If I reached under your skirt, you’d be wet, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve been that way since I first saw you today,” she said. Right after she’d received the box.

The look in his eyes speared longing right to her core. “But something made you even wetter just now. Tell me what it was.”

She amazed herself by doing just that. “I imagined you letting me watch you work, but you put a collar on me. Attached it with a long chain to the leg of the couch in your workshop area. Like I’m a . . . pet waiting for your attention. And I’m naked.”

When he finished creating, he’d come to her, sawdust still on his hands, that fresh, sweet smell. He’d part her bare thighs and sheathe himself. She’d be so wet, no foreplay would be needed. He’d slide right into her body, available to her Master whenever he wanted it.

She said all that in a whisper, her gaze dropping to his throat. He tilted her face up, fingers pressing hard into her tender flesh, his eyes on fire. “I like that idea,” he growled. His grip eased, somewhat, as he caressed her face. “But tonight, clothes stay on. You’d be too distracting for your Master otherwise.”

When she closed her eyes, he tapped her cheek. “What?”

“I . . . like it when you call yourself that.”
Her Master.

“Good. Because that’s what I am, Madison. You’re starting to realize that, aren’t you?”

Hoping.
Terrified, thrilled. But hoping.

She felt as still as a bird in a box when they went into his workshop area. He nodded toward the small restroom facility, suggesting she use it before he got started. While she was in there, she heard a noise that drew things tighter in her lower belly. The clank of chains.

When she came out, he’d added a couple pillows to the couch and some magazines, making her space more comfortable. Perhaps it was self-interest to give her a distraction, since having a chained girl staring at him while he was working might be a little distracting. She was a mass of butterflies. She was going to let him collar her, make her lie quietly at his command and watch him work. Wait on his pleasure, his attention. The fact she’d asked to be in such a position and he’d agreed was a significant step forward in their journey together. She knew he was as aware of that as she was, else he wouldn’t have reacted with that piercing regard, the possessive growl in his voice that had made her even wetter.

He turned from the piece she assumed was his project for the evening and came to her, his gaze passing over her in that assessing way he had. Taking her arm in a firm grasp, he guided her to the couch. She’d borrowed from her stock and changed for the club into a pair of dance heels, a short skirt and a sexy silky blouse through which she’d felt the heat of his hands quite a few times tonight. His eyes had often dipped into the low-cut, gathered neckline to catch a glimpse of the barely there lace bra beneath. She’d put up her hair for the dancing, which exposed her neck.

Now, as she kept her gaze on him, he picked up a collar he’d left on the couch arm. It was a serviceable collar, like one she’d seen him put on Troy, though this had a more slender strap, one he buckled around her neck snugly, but it wasn’t too tight. He let her see the next piece as well, a heart-shaped lock about a square inch in size. When he hooked it into the buckling piece of the collar, she realized it meant the collar couldn’t be removed without opening the lock. Suddenly that small weight seemed much more substantial.

He bent again, picked up the chain she’d heard clanking. He’d attached it to the leg of the sofa, just as she’d described. Threading the padlock into the end link of the chain, he attached it to the collar and snapped the lock closed. Now neither chain nor collar could be removed without him providing the key.

He wasn’t done, however. As he sat her down on the couch, her pulse had speeded up even more. He guided her legs so she was reclined on a hip, then he moved down to the opposite end. Taking another chain and attaching the end of it to the opposite sofa leg, he looped the slack around her ankle and beneath the sole of the shoe before using another small padlock to secure the chain at her ankle. It held her foot securely to the other end of the couch with just enough length she could keep her foot up on the cushions.

If he’d left her attached only at one point, the collar, she could have slipped off the couch, moved around. Even lifted the end of the sofa if it wasn’t too heavy and slipped the chain attached to her collar out from under its anchor. Now, stretched between the two points, that was impossible. Not uncomfortably so. She could partially sit up, even stretch out on her back, but she wasn’t getting away from the couch without his help, and the psychology of that elicited a potent reaction.

His fingers slid up her inner thigh. Without any command from him, she parted her legs. Reaching beneath the short skirt, Logan stroked her through the thin barrier of the panties.