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“Oh my God,” I say, letting my body relax for the first time since he touched me in the playroom. I feel like I was just hit by a bus. Every muscle is sore and spent. My clit throbs as the echoes of my orgasm fade and fall away.
He eases himself off me, grinning down. “You did so well, Kitten. You did so fucking well.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
He unties my hands and ankles, rubbing them tenderly, checking for marks--there are none. He methodically moves across my body, massaging some of the soreness from my muscles. I flinch as he rubs something cool onto my tender ass. The coolness quickly cuts through the sting from my spanking. He kisses me tenderly, then possessively and I love every second of it. I lay sprawled on the bed, almost lethargic as I watch him start to slip into his clothing. He treats me like no man ever has.
If someone had told me a month ago what I would be doing right now, I never would’ve believed them. And if a woman ever told me a man punished her the way Logan is punishing me, I would be appalled. I would think it was chauvinistic and degrading. Maybe it should be, and maybe it would be to other people, but the strangest part about all this is how private it feels. What Logan and I are building is entirely between us. It’s both extremely personal and impersonal at the same time, like there’s a wall between our real selves and this false reality we’ve begun to create. One where we can both be sexually free and explore our fantasies.
I feel a slight wave of unease when I realize I don’t know exactly what Logan expects. I know the rules of our sexual arrangement, but I don’t know what the rules are outside of that. I don’t even know if I want more than this. Couldn’t I just live a normal life by day and become this sexually uninhibited creature he’s making me into by night? Could it be that simple?
Maybe.
When I look at Logan and the possessive way he grins down at me, covetous of my beauty and jealously driven to protect his claim over me… I’m not so sure this is going to be anything remotely simple.
He picks up my underwear and moves to me, carefully sliding my panties back on. His thumb brushes over my swollen clit as he does and I suck in a sharp breath. Wow. I could already go another round, but I don’t know if my body would be able to handle it.
He finds my bra, putting it on for me and then sliding my dress back over my head and zipping it up. It’s incredibly intimate, and I love the two sides of him. He can be a dark, punishing dominant one minute and then a meticulous caretaker the next. It’s the perfect juxtaposition of hot and cold.
He kisses me tenderly on the neck and then the lips. “I have to go, Kitten. I’ll be in touch.”
He kisses me again and then leaves without so much as a look over his shoulder.13LoganIt has been three days since I had Emmaline at Club Crave. I sent the non-disclosure agreement over to her address the following morning, and she sent it back today. Signed. Every time I close my eyes I see her and her perfect curves. I’ve wanted nothing more than to call her and have her again, but I’ve had too much work to do. My international partners are trying to quietly maneuver to take control of my company. It shouldn’t be possible because the company is no longer publicly traded, but they are using thuggish techniques and targeting my investors directly.
I can’t catch a fucking break lately. First my investors threaten to pull out because of my character issues, now this. But I’m not losing sleep over it. It’s just work. That’s the business, and I’ve done my own share of cutthroat practices to get where I am as quickly as I did. They are fucking with the wrong man, and it’s only a matter of time and work to make them realize that.
“How long will that take?” I ask. I’m sitting in a conference room with my top executives from every branch of my company.
Jason taps his pen against the legal pad in front of him, mentally calculating something. He’s a fit guy in his forties, and I’ve always appreciated his attitude. He works hard and doesn’t give me bullshit excuses. That’s all I really need.
“Two weeks,” he says. “Three if India doesn’t play ball.”
“Fine. Make it happen,” I say.
I’m about to give the marketing team their assignment when my phone buzzes. I quickly check to see who’s texting and do a double take when I see it’s Patrick, my personal investigator. I tasked him with keeping an eye on Emmaline for me. Maybe it was crossing the line, but I can’t take any chances. She’s already too important to me, and getting involved with me could cause her unforeseen problems. I wasn’t about to take chances.
