Waiting For You (3 page)

Chapter Six

I was out of there as soon as he uttered the letters ‘BDSM’. The terms ‘dominant’ and ‘submissive’ must have gotten lost in the haze of lust, but it all clicked into place when he dropped the bomb. Apparently, he was tall, dark, and kinky. He was a Dominant, and he thought I was a submissive. He said it radiated off of me. Like a perfume. And I'd recoiled from him like I smelled something rotten.

I, like most women, had heard of Fifty Shades of Grey. I'd even sampled it before I put it aside. It was all...too intense.

Or maybe it was too familiar. Reading about a passion, a sizzling chemistry you'd never have with Jason.

My hands shook as I stopped at the sliding door to my studio. I glanced at the white container in my hand. I'd told Logan that I couldn't do it, that he was asking the impossible, and my legs couldn't move fast enough. He'd gone after me, his face blank, eyes dark and cloudy as he offered it to me. I'd taken the sunburn cream gingerly, asking why he cared.

Despite the terrified look on your face, I'm not a monster, Melissa.

I slid the door shut behind me, slumping against it with a sigh, then hopping upright with a wince as my body reminded me it was still tender from its losing battle with the sun's rays.

I pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge and downed it in thirsty gulps. I was hydrated, but my body still felt tight and sore. I eyeballed the white container perched on the furthest edge of the counter. Chewing on my bottom lip, I retrieved it and opened it slowly. I knew the cream held relief, but it also held something else. Questions. Questions I never thought to even ask. I was far from a virgin, but Jason stood out in my mind, and our sex life definitely fell into the vanilla category. He was perfectly fine with missionary even though I loved to be taken from behind. When he allowed me to go down on him, I had to urge him to take the lead. The one time I asked him to release in my mouth, his answer was “I'm not a John, and you're not a prostitute.”

When I was alone, curled up in bed while he was running late with work or school, I'd touch myself, dreaming of a man who wouldn't ask for permission. Someone aggressive who would just...take. And oh, I would give. I had so much pent up need that I would give and give until there was nothing left but our sweaty bodies and the whispered remains of our moans.

But dominated? It seemed so...crass. I pictured women on their hands and knees with collars. Welts and blood and moans of agony, not bliss. As romantic as the parts of Fifty Shades I’d read were, that was fiction. That kind of dark romance couldn't exist in real life.

Except you have a delicious neighbor who seems more than willing--

“To spank me,” I said aloud, shuddering. I dipped my fingers in the cream, finding the impression he left. I gently smoothed some on my chest, fingers skating to my shoulder. I wished I could find something erotic in being bent over Logan’s knee, his hand colliding with my rear end, but it was mostly just unnerving. But I was undeniably curious. Everything about Logan was coiffed and confident. Normal. Yet he was obviously super freaky behind closed doors. He identified with that lifestyle and I wanted to know more. How long had he been a Dominant? How many submissives had he been with or trained? And the million-dollar question was, what did he see in me that made him think I was a submissive?

I smoothed some cream on my face, chuckling bitterly. These were all questions that I should have asked before I blew out of his place like he was some axe wielding murderer in a horror movie. Curiosity was festering inside me, an itch I was dying to scratch. Even if I wasn't sure that I was submissive, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I longed for more. And somehow Logan, a complete stranger, had seen that.

I scratched my chin. The cream! I could say I wanted to return it. But he'd probably just take it and close the door on my face. My gaze flickered to the fridge, where contact numbers were affixed to the chrome surface. That would be easier. I wasn't sure I could face him.

I snatched my cell from my beach bag and punched in his number. My heart was thumping in my throat. For a beautiful, depressing moment I thought it might go to voicemail and I'd get a stay of awkwardness, but he answered.

“This is Logan.”

Just the sound of his voice made me squirm with desire. “U-uh hi. It's me.” I clarified. “Melissa.”

“What is it?” The playful, flirty Logan was replaced by cold indifference. And I hated it.

“I'm sorry for the way I reacted.” I stopped, swallowing the knot as I struggled to explain myself. “I didn't handle myself appropriately.”

“Oh? Personally, I enjoy it when a lover gawks at me in horror, then books it as far away as possible.”

“I'm in the studio behind your house. Trust me, I could go further away than this,” I chuckled at my weak joke. He didn't. I gasped when something he said resonated. He called me a lover! “What did you call me?”

“I think you know.”

It was getting hot in here, and I knew it had nothing to do with my sunburn. “I-I've been thinking about what you said. About me being a submissive.” I drew a deep, steadying breath. “I don't know if I agree, but I do know I want to know more.”

Chapter Seven

I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I followed him to the den. A whiteboard filled with the ABCs of being a submissive? An array of different props, ranging in size and ability to make me wince or holler? None of the above was waiting for me. It was just a regular den. Well, as regular as a multi-million dollar den could be. My eyes swept across the room from the sleek modern fireplace to the plush blood red rug in front of it. I diverted to the ebony colored sectional and framed artwork on the wall. My eyes shot up to the vaulted ceiling, the crisp white paint stark against the exposed mahogany beams. Like a furious beautiful mark slashed against skin.

When I faced him, he had this look like he could read my mind. Like he knew I was already seeing the world through new eyes.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“That bad, huh?” I quipped, bypassing the sectional for an armchair. My attempt at a joke fell flat. His perfect mouth was twisted with displeasure. He agreed to talk, but I could tell we had a ways to go before we were back to joking. “Water would be great.”

He gave me a crisp nod and disappeared into the kitchen. I took the few moments alone to dash to the nearest reflective surface. There was no help for my burned skin, but I pulled my hair free from the messy bun on top of my head, shaking out the long locks. It looked more wild than wild and sexy, but it was better than the gym bun I was rocking. I gave myself a silent high five for switching into my heather gray V-neck t-shirt that made my boobs sexy as sin. I was even proud of my strategic fashion faux pas. I knew leggings weren't pants, but these leggings fit like they had been created for me and me alone. They hugged my curves and elongated my legs.

I turned back, ready to strategically drape myself in the armchair. Logan was standing in the doorway, holding my glass of water and a beer for himself, an amused expression on his face.

Even though I was embarrassed, I smiled anyway. Amused was better than angry. I dug deep and strode toward him, taking my glass and bringing it to my lips. When I brought the rim down and licked my lips before smacking them, his eyes followed the path of my tongue. He was amused and still very attracted to me beneath the cold as ice reception he'd given me. As if that 'lover' comment wasn't proof enough that he still wanted me.

He stepped around me and even though we were still in the same room, I felt the distance in my heart. I hated that he put up a wall between us, but I understood why. If he had his defenses up, my next jab wouldn't hurt so bad.

“I'm sorry,” I blurted out. I meant it. Yes, he was forward and presumptuous, but it wasn't like he bent me over and started whaling on me.

“I know.”

He took a swallow of his beer and I watched his mouth with a throbbing in the warm place between my legs. We were quite the pair, staring at each other longingly, drawn to each other's mouths like moths to a flame.

He lowered himself on the sectional, turning lounging into foreplay. The way his hair, longish in the front and cropped short on the sides and back, fell across his forehead teased. It danced in his eyes before he pushed it back, pulling my gaze to the green and passionate opals. By the time I worked my way down the sharp line of his jaw and lingered on his lips, I was practically panting.

From the slight tilt of his lips, he knew his effect on me and was loving it.

“So you had some questions?” He gestured for me to proceed. “Ask away.”

I went to the armchair, glad it put a little distance between us, but it was close enough that I could still read his expression. See how he really felt if he tried to censor himself. It didn't seem fair that I expected the whole truth from him while I shied away from it myself, but I needed it. I needed all of him.

I carefully placed my tumbler on a coaster and got on with it. “So how long have you been a Dominant?”

He shrugged casually. “Always. It's as big a part of my identity as the fact that I can't function without coffee and I don't settle for anything less than perfection when it comes to my business dealings. It's just who I am.” I must have been making a face because he paused, making one of his own. “Wrong answer?”

I looked down at my hands. I'd offended him again, and just like the first time, I didn't mean to. “No, it's not that.” I picked at my nails. “The way you talk about it, so sure in who you are and what you want--” I glanced up. “It's amazing.”

My answer must have caught him off guard because his mouth hung open, like he was at a loss for words. He recovered, taking a swig of his beer and turning the tables on me. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

“How long have you known you weren't vanilla?”

I dropped my eyes, fiddling with my hair. I knew it was too late to play coy, but I couldn't help it. I was raised by a father who turned pale every time I approached him with questions about the changes happening to my body. There was no sex talk, just an awkward 'wait until you're married' decree. I hadn't of course, but that wasn't exactly a freeing sexual experience either.

I knew my answer would be lame, but I said it anyway. “I guess ever since the first time Jason--” I cut off when Logan's face darkened. The look of jealousy ravaging his handsome face made me swoon. “That's my ex,” I explained. “Whenever he touched me, I always felt like I was standing on the edge. Sometimes I'd even teeter, but he always pulled me back.” Be honest. “I guess he held me back. He probably would still be holding me back if he hadn't gotten bored with me and ended things.”

The dark look on Logan’s face turned savage. “Any man that denied you is a complete and utter idiot.”

I smiled weakly. “You sound so sure. You didn't even know I existed two days ago.”

“Maybe not, but I knew from the moment I turned and saw you tasting me with your eyes that you were different,” he said smoothly. “A normal vanilla girl would have apologized profusely--”

I remembered, finishing the thought. “But I didn't. I was mad at you for tempting me in the first place.” It seemed so natural, the sight of him so visceral and my body's reaction so powerful that I covered it with indignation. Could he be right about me?

I shook my head. “Just because I want to spice things up in the bedroom doesn't mean I want the whole spice cabinet. I don't want to be spanked or strapped to something or branded--”

“Branded?” he scoffed. “What bowels of Google gave you that gem?” He didn't wait for me to answer. “This lifestyle isn't one size fits all, Melissa. I don’t do cuddling, but I don’t do dungeons either. Personally, I have no interest in branding you or causing you intense pain. For me, domination is about control. It's about knowing someone inside and out, to the point that you know what they want, what they need without them even saying a word.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine. “A-and submission?”

“I'm not a submissive, so I can't speak to that.”

“Well, what did your other submissives want?”

“A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell,” he winked.

My lips split into a grin. There he was, peeking out from the clouds.

“As I said before, mileage varies. Submission means different things to different people.” He slid to the edge of his chair, staring at me intently. “Humor me. If you were a submissive, what would that mean for you? What are you looking for?”

My answer was simple and immediate, like I'd been waiting for someone to ask me that question my whole life.

“Surrender.” All the things I kept bottled up poured out of me. “I want someone who possesses me in every sense of the word. He can look at me and know if I need it hard and rough or gentle and…” I trailed off. My answer aligned with what he was searching for to a T.

He was up, eyes alight with passion. “If I said I needed you, right now, what would you say?”

I rose up, my legs steady. There were no thoughts other than our bodies moving as one.

“I'm yours.”

Chapter Eight

My feet skated across the hardwood floor, my heart booming madly as I gripped Logan's hand, willingly letting him lead me into the unknown. I felt like I should be more apprehensive, more worried considering I'd fought him from the minute we'd met, but something inside me had unlocked the moment I looked into his eyes. I hadn't just been fighting Logan; I was fighting myself. Fighting the carnal needs inside me that I kept at bay because of Jason. Needs I thought any rational man would run screaming from. But the minute Logan drew me into his room, kicked the door shut, and pushed me back against it, a world of possibilities opened up. A world where I could escape and lose myself in my body’s desires instead of hiding them away like a dirty little secret. As Logan's eyes swept over my body, his hands performed a second inspection. I realized dirty was what I'd been looking for all along.

He trailed back up to my cheek, bracing himself on the door behind me. “I know you have questions, doubts about the lifestyle. For now, I'll rein it in.” He ran his thumb along the curve of my lip and I couldn't resist, darting my tongue out to taste it. The salt of his skin was electrifying, the moan that started deep inside him shuddering across my body.

“I'll try and rein it in,” he remedied huskily. “But that means you have to behave.”

I arched into him, biting my lip as our bodies met and I felt just how hard he was working to control himself. “But what if I don't want to behave?”

He combed through my locks and held tight until my neck was exposed. Ripe for the taking. He drew his lips up and down the line of it, barely touching my hungry, ultra sensitive flesh. Driving me wild. Okay, he was clearly better at teasing.

His lips lingered at my ear, his words making me tremble. “There are ways to keep you in line.”

Fear sparked in my chest. “Spanking?”

“That works for some, but I think I know what you need. What will remind you who's in charge.”

My body had never felt more sensitive, each fevered breath rocking me to the core. I gazed into his eyes, wanting a clue of just what he was hinting at, but I hitched a breath as he spun me around without warning. My chest was pressed against the door. I couldn't see him, but oh, I could feel. His hand made its way around my waist and pulled me toward him, against his groin and his delicious erection. I wondered if he was going to spank me after all and in the heat of the moment, I realized maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Instead, he pulled my pants down, achingly slow, until I reached to yank them down the rest of the way.

“Hands on the door, Melissa.”

Without even thinking, I obeyed.

He had other plans of his own, his powerful fingers grabbing the globes of my behind, kneading and caressing them. I cursed myself for choosing to wear panties. I wanted him to touch me without the cotton barrier. To dive his fingers into my center and discover just how hot I was for him.

But he took his time, almost as if he knew how impatient I was.

I gasped, glaring at him over my shoulder. “Is this my punishment? Making me twitch and squirm for you?” When his fingers danced dangerously close to my crotch, my eyes rolled back in my head. The feistiness took a backseat to desire. “Do you want me to beg? I'll beg.” I groaned as his hands detoured, leaving me wanting.

“I'm waiting,” he chuckled. I'm pretty sure I'd never heard anything so simultaneously sexy and frustrating my whole life.

I threw my head back as his fingers stroked the seam of my panties, intensifying the dizzying need that soaked me to the bone. “Please touch me, Logan. I want to feel you inside me.”

As if I'd uttered the magic words, he yanked my panties to the side. A sole finger stroked the entrance to my warmth and he moaned as he coated the digit with my desire. When he plunged it inside me, my knees buckled, but he had me, finger pushing me closer to the embrace of my climax. I held onto it, not sure why until he said the words.

“You don't come until I say so.”

And with that, he pulled his finger out and scooped me into his arms. I should have been self-conscious. Sure, he was the kind of man who knew his way around the gym and had the muscles to prove it, but I was far from ‘waif throw-me-over-your-shoulder-and-have-your-way-with-me thin’. But all those doubts were quieted when I looked into his eyes. In his eyes, I saw someone beautiful and sexy and desirable. I saw the me I knew was waiting deep inside. Waiting for the right one.

“Remove your shirt.”

I quickly pulled it off and tossed it aside. He slowly unbuttoned his own, his eyes rounding the curves of my breast.

“Bra too.”

I unhooked the back, my petite breasts springing from the B cup bra. When he shed his pants, boxer briefs remaining, the sight of his bulge brought back sweet memories. I'd be doing more than staring this time. Tonight, I'd feel it deep inside me.

He strode forward, fucking me with his eyes. I tilted my chin up to hold his gaze and let out a breathy moan as he touched the side of my panties and drew them down slowly. He paused when he was level with my sex, inhaling and sighing like it was the sweetest thing he'd ever smelled.

I stepped out of them and he flung them away.

“On your back.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, crawling backward until I hit the middle. My eyes never left his. He removed his boxers then covered his erection with a condom. He even made that sexy.

He climbed onto the bed, yanking my legs wide. The bite of pain was a reminder that this would be different. Something inside me knew that once I had him, I'd never be the same.

He braced himself, his face the picture of control, but his voice betrayed him. “You want me inside of you?”

I trembled as I felt him draw the tip up and down my seam. “Y-yes.”

I inhaled sharply as he slowly pushed his way inside me. I'd underestimated his girth, the fit tight and erotic, stretching me in the most delicious way. His lips curled deviously as he rolled his hips, savoring my wetness, and then he pulled out and slammed back inside me. He robbed me of all the breath in my lungs, of the ability to form rational thought as he drove in and out of me. The control was gone, replaced by something savage and feral. I wanted to be devoured, stripped down to nothing, and rebuilt by his touch.

I wanted to come. Each stroke made it more difficult to follow his orders. I was so close that I was making noises that sounded more animal than human. His eyes were shut, savoring the sounds like it was beautiful music. Savoring my body’s touch.

He pulled out of me, eyes never leaving mine as he beckoned me up. “Hands and knees. Ass toward me.”

I assumed the position, groaning with delight when I felt his hands on my hips. Our bodies collided, our moans the language of passion. When he said the word, I exploded, a firework erupting in the sky. A burst of light when all I had before was darkness and doubt. He held me close until he found his bliss and in that beautiful moment, nothing else mattered but the two of us.

Still shuddering, breathing erratic and fulfilled, I sank into the covers. He followed suit, pulling me into his arms. It was so natural, like it had always been like this.

I brought my head up from the crook of his neck, searching his eyes. I didn't find regret or remorse but a happiness that echoed my own. Still, his comment from earlier rang in my ears.

“I thought you didn't do cuddling.”

“I don't,” he said, eyes sparkling with bemusement. “I also don't take a woman to bed unless she agrees to be my submissive.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he wasn't done. “I'm a patient man, Melissa. I'll let you make up your own mind.”

Satisfied with that answer, I dropped my head back to his chest. “So where does that leave us?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted. He stroked my back, the gentle caress making my pulse race with excitement. “But something tells me that this is the start of something amazing.”

The End

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