Blue Blooded (9 page)

“But, if I'm willing and you're aching, what's the problem with me relieving that ache for you?”

“The problem is you're not ready to be fucked by me yet.” He bounced the rope between his hands, his voice taking on a deeper, stronger tone. “Baby steps, Tiger. You need to learn how to give up control before I reward you with my cock. I won't die if I don't come tonight, so don't worry about taking care of my needs. In this room, I am in control and the only thing I want is you naked right now, so while I stand here and watch, I want you to take that shirt off and slide those panties that are teasing me out of my ever-fucking mind because I want to see what belongs to me now. I need to play with those gorgeous tits of yours, see how sensitive they are, get my lips around those nipples that are poking out at me through your shirt, begging me to suck on them. I want to check if that pussy is as spicy as that mouth of yours during our verbal sparring sessions or as sweet as it is when you're crooning to that ugly-assed dog of yours. And darlin', the only thing I want you to do is nothing.”

He placed one knee on the bed and leaned toward her. “You're not responsible for your orgasms, you got me? They're mine. Mine to give. Mine to take. And trust me, when I want something, I get it.”

She made her living with her voice, but she was struck speechless. No one had ever spoken to her like that in her life. Her friends had laughed about a dominant man and how they could use their voices to train their pussies into coming on demand. Rachel had always assumed they were full of shit, exaggerating. No one could come on demand without physical stimulation. Now, hearing those words come out of Logan's mouth in that panty-melting, pussy-creaming way of his, she could believe it. Her clit was pulsing, swelling from his voice. If he could manage that from just his voice, what the hell would it be like when that mouth actually touched her?

She exhaled a loud breath, thinking about his tongue flicking at her clit and his breath bathing her in its fiery heat. “You keep your kink junk in your go-bag?”

As if he could see straight through her defenses, he smirked. “None of this is ‘kink junk' as you put it. They're essential items for any go-bag. You can turn any ordinary household item into something kinky. Since I'm going to blindfold, bind, and gag you,” he said, picking up the bandanas and then dangling them in his hand, “you'll need a way to communicate if you want me to stop.” He handed over one of the strips of fabric. “If you drop the bandana, I'll remove the gag so you can talk. Now let me see what's mine.”

She swallowed hard, nodding. Trust didn't come easy to her. Even her friends didn't know who she was underneath the woman they knew as Rachel Dawson. How could they when she could barely remember? But for some reason, she did trust Logan Bradford, and that had to mean something. Maybe, just maybe, he was seeing the woman she'd kept hidden away from the rest of the world. She trembled, the thought equally exhilarating and terrifying. What if she bared herself to him and he found her lacking?

Logan claiming ownership of her shouldn't set her blood on fire, but it did.
It's temporary
, she reminded herself. There was nothing wrong with giving up control and gifting it to another. She'd done the countless hours of research for her exposé on BDSM and had spoken at length with both Danielle and Kate. There was strength in submission. She couldn't deny it. And she was strong.

She just wasn't sure if she was strong
enough
.

Guess there was only one way to find out.

“S
TAND UP
,” L
OGAN
said, hauling her to her feet. “Now take off your clothes, starting with your shirt.”

Man, he was bossy. Yet somehow, the bossier he was, the slicker she became between her thighs. She wondered what he'd do if she refused. Would he spank her? Did she want him to? She smashed her lips together to keep from giggling. Maybe another time she'd try it and find out.

She slid her shirt up her body and over her head, dropping it on the floor. Logan's heated gaze went straight to her chest as she reached around to unclasp her bra. As it fluttered away from her breasts, he inhaled sharply and bit down on his lower lip as if this was the first time he'd seen them. His hands were clenched into fists and she watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

He might be in charge, but she still had the control, the power to make him crazy with lust for her. She snagged her panties with her thumbs and slowly slid them down her thighs, stepping out of them and leaving herself bare for his hungry perusal.

He blinked rapidly, his gaze falling to her bared pussy, and he hummed in the back of his throat. She was proud of her body. Several men had complimented her on it, but never once did those compliments make her feel the way she did right now with Logan. He didn't need to use any words because everything he was thinking could be found on his face. His nostrils were flared, his eyes hooded.

He wanted her.

Which made it that much more confusing that he refused to fuck her.

“Come closer,” he ordered, his voice thick with arousal.

Her heart banged a staccato beat as she took a step toward him.

He placed the bandanas on the bed and dangled the rope from his hand. “I'm not going to gag you or blindfold you until I'm finished binding you because I want you to see what I'm doing and to let me know if the ropes are too tight.” He motioned for her to turn around with his finger.

She faced away from him and hissed out a breath as his arms circled her under her breasts. “I'm going to start like I did at Benediction. And for your research, this is called Shibari.”

“Japanese rope bondage, right?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the fact Logan's fingers were brushing the sides of her breasts and that her nipples had perked up, as if begging to get in on the action.

“Did your homework, huh?” She heard the amusement in his voice. “Anyone can tie a knot, but there's something esthetically beautiful in Shibari. It turns rope into art.” While he placed the rope under her breasts, his thumbs stroked lazily over her distended nipples, back and forth, as if they had all the time in the world.

Her breath whooshed out of her, half hiss and half moan. She trembled, already feeling as though she was losing control of her body, and he'd only barely touched her. “I know for a fact you weren't into kink when you met Kate, so when did you start practicing Shibari?”

Logan and Kate had interned at the same law firm their final year of law school when Kate had gone undercover at Benediction to help prove her then-client, Jaxon Deveroux, innocent in the murder of his wife. Because Logan had helped them solve the murder and because he was now Kate's law partner, Jaxon returned the favor by buying him a membership to Benediction.

His breath blew on her ear. “I guess it depends on how you want to define kink. I didn't participate in the BDSM community or join a club until recently, but that doesn't mean I wasn't tying up women and having my way with them before. I'll admit, Shibari is new to me. When Cole discovered my interest in bondage, he introduced me to a friend of his who mentored me in Shibari and Kinbaku, which is another kind of Japanese rope bondage. But yeah”—he bit down on her earlobe and then sucked it into his mouth, easing the sting—“I've always been kinky.”

All too soon his mouth disappeared and he went back to work. She looked down, admiring the way he'd secured her heavy breasts with the silky rope. They swelled, aching for his caress. She wanted his mouth on them now, using his teeth and tongue just as he had on her earlobe, and with any other man, she would've demanded it. But there was something about trusting Logan would get there on his own time frame that amped up her arousal.

Her breathing slowed even as her pulse raced, a warm, syrupy sensation sweeping her body, and her eyelids grew heavier with each slide of rope on her feverish skin. The room shrunk so that all she knew was Logan. The crinkle of his brows, the beads of perspiration dotting his forehead, the slide of his tongue across his bottom lip as he concentrated on his task of tying her. He smelled like sex on a hot summer day, his scent dizzying and stimulating all at once. She couldn't remember a time when she had been so aware of another person or when she'd enjoyed a man's touch this much.

And he'd barely even started.

She closed her eyes and sunk into the moment, allowing herself to let go of all her thoughts and fears and just once—for research's sake, of course—truly give her power over to another. Swaying on her feet, she trembled as Logan's hands splayed her inner thighs, her clit throbbing and moisture slickening the folds of her pussy.

“Easy there,” he said roughly, his hands moving to her hips rather than going where she needed him the most. “You're tipping over. Before you lie down, I want you to look at yourself in the mirror.” With a hand on her lower back, he directed her across the room. “Open your eyes, Rachel.”

Her eyes fluttered open to a vision of her reflection in the mirror hanging over the dresser. The rope crisscrossed over her breasts, creating a makeshift harness that both lifted and showcased them, her erect nipples darkened from a pink to reddish-brown. From there, the rope descended down the center of her abdomen and over the glistening dark curls of her labia, spreading them wide and exposing her wet crimson folds. It could've appeared crude—should have appeared crude—and yet instead, the view was highly erotic.

“You look gorgeous in my ropes,” he whispered into her ear. “And I can't wait to get my mouth on you.”

Yeah, he wasn't the only one.

Their gazes collided in the mirror, almost tangible electricity arcing between them. Her skin felt tight, her body on fire with need. In this moment, with her breasts and pussy on display, she'd never felt more vulnerable. More desirable. More alive.

Logan stroked his hands down her arms and turned her around to face him. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and then cradled her cheek, his lips inching their way closer and closer to hers. Her eyes closed in anticipation.

His lips brushed against her forehead before he released a sigh. “I want you on the bed.” Gripping the rope underneath her breasts, he pulled her flush against him so she could feel the steel of his covered erection pressing into her belly. “Now.”

A thin thread of uncertainty trickled into her consciousness. Why hadn't he kissed her? If it wasn't for the proof of his arousal, she would've thought he wasn't attracted to her, but what she had felt stirring beneath his briefs left little doubt as to how she affected him physically. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, so why wouldn't he kiss her?

The answer hovered right below the surface, but she didn't want to think right now. Maybe Logan had done her a favor. At least now, she wouldn't confuse their sexual intimacy as anything more than a limited beneficial agreement for them both. She'd hopefully get an orgasm, and he'd get some sleep.

He led her back to the bed, each slide of the rope against her damp skin making her shiver. Then he picked up one of the bandanas, situating it over her eyes and plunging her into darkness. “Before I gag and finish binding you, how are the ropes? Are they too tight?”

She swallowed and gave him a smile. “They're fine. Good, I mean.”

He placed a piece of fabric in her palm and closed her fingers around it. “Remember to drop the bandana from your hand if you need to stop.” On her nod, he slipped it between her lips and tied the back of it.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, the heady rush of excitement speeding through her. She allowed him to lay her back onto the bed and manipulate her limbs into position. Ropes bound her wrists together and drew them above her head. Within a minute, her arms were immobile, most likely tied to the headboard. He spread her legs and pushed her knees up, so that her feet rested on the mattress. Then ropes circled her ankles, keeping her pussy open wide for him.

Heat unfurled in her belly, spanning outward, the anticipation of what he'd do nearly driving her insane. She clutched the bandana in her palm as if the world would end if she dropped it. Without the use of her voice to command, without the use of her eyes to direct, without the use of her hands to caress, without the use of her feet to walk away, she was free to just be. To savor the moment.

Something stroked the length of her neck. It lacked the calloused roughness that she'd felt before, so she knew it wasn't his fingers. It took her a moment to register that it was his tongue, bathing her with its moist heat, only to have the air cooling his trail as his mouth slid lower. The contrast of hot and cold caused her body to shiver.

And then his wicked tongue laved a circular path on her breast, each pass of it coming closer and closer to her nipple until it was finally there, jolting her into a sexual frenzy of need. Her muffled moan filled the room as she unsuccessfully tried to arch her nipple farther into his mouth. The ropes held tight, preventing even the smallest of movements. She was completely at his mercy, dependent on him for her pleasure, and apparently, he wasn't going to rush it.

Even though she couldn't see, she closed her eyes beneath the bandana, sinking even further into the experience. Her abdominal muscles clenched as he sucked her nipple farther into the cavern of his mouth, his teeth, tongue, and lips pulling and releasing, teasing and nibbling, sending waves of bliss permeating from her breasts to her pussy, until she was almost certain she would orgasm from that alone.

It had never been like this for her before. Sure, it always felt good when a guy used his mouth on her, but it was like comparing a typical downpour of rain to a hurricane. The wet proof of her arousal dripped out of her, her legs shaking from need. He was winding her up and up and up, just from the suction of his mouth on her nipple. As if he was enjoying every second of it, he made a humming sound in the back of his throat.

She almost couldn't stand it. Muffled pleas for more fell from her lips, her head shaking back and forth. The ache in her pussy morphed into a pulsating blaze.

He released her nipple and worked his way over to the other one, beginning the tantalizing process all over again. His tongue was like a key to the engine of her pussy, revving her up.

She tried to buck, to squirm, to ease the building tension with a clench of her thighs, but all to no avail. Her brain went fuzzy, the normal pictures and thoughts running through her mind suddenly disappearing, leaving behind only a black slate with bursts of multicolored stars.

All too soon and not soon enough, Logan began gliding down her torso, nipping her sensitive skin along the way. “Fucking responsive as hell,” he murmured. “Just as I knew you'd be. Now let's see if you taste as good as I've imagined.”

Her mind repeated one word over and over.

Yes, yes, yes.

Until now, she'd never really craved a man's mouth on her pussy.

“Ever taste yourself, Tiger?” He caressed the skin above her slit. “I bet you haven't.” His tongue dipped into her channel, sampling her. “I'm not gonna give you bullshit about you tasting like honey or peaches or some crap like that. You don't taste sweet. You're like a hot exotic spice on my tongue. So I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this pussy right now and you're just gonna lie there and take everything I give to you.”

She jerked, crying out when his fingers rubbed on each side of the hood of her clitoris. And when his lips sucked it into his mouth, her entire body bowed. Deprived of most of her senses, she indulged in the sensation of touch, hypersensitive to every ridge and bump of his rough-yet-gentle tongue as he languidly caressed her exposed bud with it. Nothing . . .
nothing
had ever felt so exquisite. That was until his fingers breached her entrance and slowly began pumping in and out of her. She bit down on her gag, her arms quaking from the intensity of pleasure coursing through her.

Her toes curled into the comforter as Logan continued to stroke her clit with his tongue, the stubble that had grown in on his face in the past day rubbing against her exposed folds. A fire blazed deep in her pussy, building stronger and stronger with each pass of his tongue and quickening thrust of his fingers. Dizzy and breathless, she felt as if it was whirling like a spinning top. She dangled on the precipice of climax, her muscles growing rigid before she plunged over the edge, waves of ecstasy flowing outward from her pussy to every part of her body.

Logan had not only delivered on his promise, he'd surpassed her expectations. She'd never come like that. Didn't even know it was possible. What did it mean? Would she require a massage and bondage every time in order to achieve orgasm? Was she truly submissive?

The thoughts flitted through her mind before scattering away like a feather on the wind. Murmuring words of praise, Logan released the bindings on her hands and rubbed her wrists then removed the gag from her mouth. She wanted to say something to tell him she appreciated the care he'd shown her tonight. Tell him thank you.

But before she could find the right words, her mind quieted. The last thought she had was that Logan would prove more dangerous than the FBI chasing after them.