Naughty Bits Part II: The Training Session (13 page)

“. . . brand the others away with his come.” Holy crap, she’d said it aloud.

“What happens when it’s all over?” Logan’s voice was stern, like she’d imagine her soldier’s to be.

“He’s back again, and they’re all gone. I know his scent. He’s holding me, calling me . . .” She was still too aware of her surroundings and self to say it out loud, but then Logan wrapped his fingers around her throat, tilting her head back to caress her windpipe, put his mouth against that churning artery.

“Tell me, Madison. Speak the words. Tell me what you want me to call you.”

“His. His sweet cunt, his devoted slave, his treasure.”

“You never doubt his care for you, the fact you belong to him. There’s no uncertainty, no loneliness, no fear. That ownership is the ultimate sense of security, isn’t it?”

She closed her eyes under the blindfold as he stroked her throat some more. She made a sound of intense pleasure as he released her arms, loosened the belt around her waist. He drew her to her feet, which set off a whole other level of stimulation through the clips, such that she was a puppet with no coordination, driven by the current coming through those lines. It didn’t matter. He had her, the belt replaced by his strong arm as he put himself behind her in the chair, bringing her back down on his lap, with her still facing outward. His other hand settled on her forehead, pushing her head back on his shoulder. All the way back so if the blindfold were gone she’d be staring at the ceiling, held by him like a doll.

“Logan . . .” she gasped. She couldn’t control anything. “Help . . .”

“Let it happen. Give it all to me. You don’t get to hold anything back. It’s all mine.”

He broke the current, reaching down to press into her pussy once more, collect that fluid on a finger, withdraw it. When he painted it on her lips, she smelled herself.

“Lick yourself off of me.”

She did, tiny, frantic motions of her tongue, then he cupped her jaw, turned her head and took over with a full, open mouthed kiss, plunging his tongue deep as she quivered and convulsed from all the stimulation he was throwing at her.

The climax started building like a wave in her lower belly, like before, only this time it went so high, it scared her. It was going to make her head explode. It was crazy, she wanted it like she’d never wanted anything, but she was afraid to go over alone. She was calling his name, and he answered.

In those final few escalations, before the wave crashed over her, he had his hands on her face, her waist, his mouth against her cheekbone, breathing the words she needed to hear.

“I’m here, Madison. Go over, baby. I’ll hold on to you.”

She screamed herself hoarse, fought the climax because that was the nature of it, so excruciating there was no choice but to struggle against it, a base survival instinct that only fueled it to greater levels. At a certain point, he cut the connection, because his hand was there instead, rubbing her, giving her a critical human contact that had her twining all her emotions around that one touch, binding herself to him in every way she could, to give her something to hold on to during the fall.

It was ruthless and powerful, much like him, but he held her through all of it, gave her the last ounce of sensation. When she was done, she was limp in the bonds, her vocal chords raw, her body weak as if she’d been drained of every ounce of energy. She wanted free, needed to be free, but only so she could crawl into him, be held in a different kind of binding. One made of flesh. He understood, for when he removed the clips and freed her legs, he scooped her up, rose and took them to the couch, settling down into the deep cushions with her in his lap. He tugged the blindfold loose, though she kept her eyes closed. He let her wrap her arms around his neck, bury her face in his chest and sob for breath, her body trembling as he murmured to her, stroked her, rocked her.

“Easy. I have you. I’m right here.”

* * *

It took a while for everything to settle. She might even have dozed off, because when she surfaced, she realized the TV volume was higher. He was taking a sip of his beer, holding her in one arm as her body lay against his, molded against every plane. When he put down the beer, he stroked her hip, the length of her thigh, a pleasurably possessive gesture.

“You’ve thought a lot about that fantasy,” he said. “Developed the story over time.”

“Yes.” She’d crafted the whole scenario over a variety of lonely masturbation sessions. She wasn’t going to share that, but she supposed he’d already guessed it. “Sometimes I fell asleep thinking about . . . less sexual things. He marries me, and yet I’m always his slave behind closed doors. Caring for his house, his clothes . . . but not like . . .”

She obviously was still too caught up in sensation, for her to say such foolish, easy-to-misinterpret things. But Logan didn’t laugh at her.

“Not like some asshole who expects you to pick up after him,” he finished. “That’s different.”

She nodded, relieved that he understood. He kept holding her, soothing her. Caring for her. “Why did you . . .”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you sit behind me? I was still blindfolded.”

“Sitting where you’re aware of me but I’m out of your line of sight, whether blindfolded or not, makes you more comfortable about speaking the deepest things in your head.” He dropped a kiss on her temple. “Your body language becomes less self-conscious as well. Non-verbal cues give me as much as your words.”

He wasn’t the only one who could read non-verbal cues. One of the sensations adding to the pleasurable aftershocks was the enormous erection against her ass. Even now, it was still substantially hard enough to catch her attention. He’d just given her the climax of her life. She wanted to give back. If only she could find the energy to move.

His arm banded around her as she started to shift. “Sssshh. Stay still, Madison. We’re at one of the best parts of the movie.”

“How would you like to watch the best part while I’m going down on you?”

When he stilled, she put her mouth at the base of his throat, teasing the pocket between his collar bones with her tongue. A bit lethargically, but her motive was clear.

Tangling his hand in her hair, he tipped her head back. She’d finally opened her eyes, but when she looked into his face, saw the heat of lust there, his undeniable, total absorption in her, she remembered what she’d said in her fantasy—gazing upon his face was like being given a Christmas present.

“Getting sucked off by your sweet mouth while I’m enjoying my favorite movie and beer is a guy fantasy come true. But not tonight. Tonight is about something different. Don’t ask me what. Just stay quiet and be still.”

“But what if I want that? What . . .”

She couldn’t believe she could be this forward, but after that climax, was there really any physical realm that she could be shy about? When she pulled out of this weird post-climactic state where Logan had convinced her she could be as open and vulnerable as she wanted, she’d no doubt be mortified, trying to re-craft all her shields. She wanted to take advantage of this state while she could hold on to it.

She curled her fingers around his hand, brought it down her body until it was between her legs, against all that slick moisture from her climax, but more than that. When she pressed his fingers against her, her clit was still flush and full. Through the pressure, he should be able to feel what she felt, the urgent pulse. Yes, she’d just had a climax over the moon, but she was still orbiting. She wanted, needed more.

She met his gaze. “Let me do it. Please.”

She wanted to be on her knees for him. She couldn’t believe how strong the desire was. When she pushed up out of his lap this time, he let her. Fortunately for her wobbly legs, it wasn’t far to go to slide into the opening between his legs and kneel on the rug below. Her fingers clasped his splayed thighs for balance, but she stopped there, waiting, staring up at him. He hadn’t said yes yet. She would beg, coax, but there was a line she wouldn’t cross to push her suit. A true sign of what she’d revealed about herself tonight, wasn’t it?

Recognizing it, diabolically willing to impregnate the moment with even more sexual tension, he’d laid a deceptively casual hand on his inner thigh. Now he lifted the beer in the other, taking a swallow, his attention on the TV screen. She remembered how he’d made Troy wait while he touched her face, and her body responded as Troy had at the anticipation, a low-level coil of need.

She put her mouth on the hand he had on his thigh, tiny touches of her tongue to his knuckles, kissing and tasting his skin. When he turned his fingers over, pushed his thumb into her mouth, she sucked on it, making it clear what she could do for him. His other fingers stroked her throat, a light touch like meadow grass against skin.

Then, victory. He put the beer down, and moved to open his jeans. He slipped the top button, pushed down the zipper and reached in to free himself from the garment beneath. Her lips parted, breath shallow as he revealed his cock, stretching it out full length before her. It had a nice thick steak-and-potatoes meatiness to it. Saliva pooled in her mouth, telling her she wanted that organ stretching her mouth, pushing into the back of her throat. She’d savor every excruciating inch of it.

Curling his fingers in her hair, he guided her to it. As she opened her mouth further to take his girth and length, he pushed her down on it slow. She’d put both her hands on his thighs, but now she shifted them to grip his base, her thumbs resting on the heavy nest of testicles still inside his jeans. He wasn’t going to strip them off, give her every inch of his flesh the way he’d compelled her to offer hers. Not tonight. But for now, this was enough.

She remembered her earlier thoughts, about loving to give head, the way it made her feel, as though she was servicing a lover. Servicing . . . her Master. She let herself say it in her head, accept how much she wanted to think of it that way. For the first time in her life, there were no questions or doubts, no games to play that would drain her energy. Logan accepted this side of her, cultivated it, drew it out. He was in charge. She wasn’t trying to talk him into something he didn’t want to do, or worried what he’d think of this side of her. He’d loosened the grip of her control-freak claws and made her believe that, at least tonight, this might turn out okay.

As a result, the need to submit was surging up far stronger than she’d ever allowed herself to experience it before. It was the difference between a high school crush and first mature relationship. A sad thought, given her age and track record of relationships, but right now the truth didn’t hurt as much. There was no room for the sting of failure or embarrassment when her mind was committed to one purpose. Pleasing her Master.

She enjoyed having him in her mouth, and devoted every scrap of energy she had left to giving him as much pleasure as she could. His thighs flexed, his hips pushing up to shove deeper into her mouth as his movements began to simulate the act that had her own hips shifting restlessly against her calves. Sex was so casual now, something people often decided to do on a first date. But nothing felt casual with Logan. He’d even said that wasn’t going to happen tonight, no matter what she did, underscoring that it had significance. It had to be earned.

As a result, she put all her effort into teasing him into a higher and higher state of arousal, reveling in the bruising grip of his hand as it became even more aggressive, pushing her down on him. His breath rasped, his body jerking as he started to tip over that edge. She made an encouraging plea against his cock and closed her eyes, triumphant, when that vein pumped under her grip, a harsh groan tearing from his lips.

He came, jetting to the back of her throat, and she sucked, licked, swallowed, not allowing herself to flag, stimulating him to the very end. Until his grip tightened for different reasons, telling her to ease off.

As she obeyed, slowing her pace, he released her hair to stroke it. There was an initial clumsiness to his movements as he had to find coordination again. It felt good that way, more balanced. It also felt good when, after tucking himself back into his jeans, he lifted her under the arms and put her back into his lap. He pressed his jaw against her temple as she curled her hands in his shirt. Picking up the remote, he made a grumbling noise at her.

“Now I’m going to have to go back three scenes. I lost my place, thanks to you.”

She snuffled a laugh against him, and he squeezed her. Quiet ensued as they both recovered, as she listened to the thunder of his heart go back to a steady thump, thump and she tasted him on her lips, in her throat.

“I was jealous of her,” she said softly.

The room went quiet as he hit mute. He didn’t say anything, though, just kept stroking her hair. Giving her the courage to say out loud what she’d only said to herself.

“I was hurting, and jealous, and I couldn’t be around someone so loving when all the love had dried up inside me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop regretting that. Two years passed in a blink, like no time at all. I thought there’d be time, you know. If I’d been here more often . . .” The hard truth was bitter in her mouth. “I’m eaten up by the idea of her dealing with this without me, when I should have been here. Sometimes I’m so angry at her, as if she hid the truth from me to get back at me for withdrawing from her. Isn’t that the most petty thing ever? Because she never stopped being Alice during those months. She sent me birthday gifts, emails, texts, called faithfully every week, no matter how bitchy I was with her. That made me angry, too. God . . . sometimes I wished she would stop contacting me at all so it wouldn’t all feel so one-sided. I was so fucking stupid.”

That horrible sense of inadequacy welled up like the sticky frustration of a hot, humid day, regret that could never be purged. She was too vulnerable to its power right now, and yet when she tried to push away, give herself some space, Logan merely flexed his arms around her, keeping her in place.

“Ssh,” he said. “No. You’re not going into that spot in your head. There’ll be a time and place to clean out that room, but it’s not tonight. Let it go for now, Madison. She loved you, and you loved her, and sometimes love is difficult. That’s all. Breathe. Breathe. Focus on what I want from you right now. Tell me what you told me a few minutes ago. Tell me how you saw yourself.”