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“See? You’re already a hell of a lot looser.”
“That’s not what you said last weekend,” I say. A split second later I clap my hand to my mouth, shocked at my own dirtiness.
Logan laughs before leaning close to my ear. “Your shoulders are loose. Your pussy is tight as a fucking glove. And it’s all mine, Kitten.”
My skin prickles with excitement and my core clenches at the sound of his gruff voice in my ear. God. No man has ever been able to trigger my sex drive so effortlessly. It makes me even more frustrated to think how quickly that drive fades if I’m not forced to place my trust in him. If I’m not dominated.
The waiter approaches with our bottle of wine and gives Logan a curious, almost scared glance, as if he’s not sure if he should approach. Logan pulls his hands from my shoulders and steps back toward his seat, gesturing for the waiter to come.
We eye each other over the table as our wine is poured. The water retreats soundlessly, leaving the bottle.
Logan sips his wine. “We need to be open with each other from now on, Emmaline. No more secrets.”
I nod my agreement, hoping he can’t see the strain in my forced smile. “Yes. I agree.”
Something is brewing in that beautiful head of his, and I’m afraid I know what it is. He’s going to call me out. I know I should just tell him. He’s right. If I had just been honest with him from the beginning, maybe things wouldn’t have become so complicated. “I saw--”
“I’ll start,” says Logan. Our words come out at the exact same moment. He narrows his eyes. “You saw?”
I bite my lip. “You said you’d start.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough. But you’re not off the hook. I want you to be open with me so it’s only fair that I’m open with you, too. Like I said, no more secrets.”
“No more secrets,” I echo.
He looks uncharacteristically tense for a moment, running his index finger along the edge of the table cloth, smoothing a wrinkle in the fabric. “The night we met at Club Crave was my first night back on the BDSM scene in years. I had a nasty break up with my ex-wife and she… made it difficult for me to enjoy my old lifestyle.”
I feel a stab of jealousy at the mention of his ex-wife. I know about her, but it’s only from cyber-stalking Logan shortly after meeting him. Lana. A professional ex-wife who lives off her ability to extort money from Logan. Still, hearing him talk about her makes it seem more real.
He continues. “She lied about the nature of our relationship--publically. It took a long time to repair the damage that did to my image, my company, and to be frank, my sex life. I wanted to leave it all behind. And I did, for a long time. But I got tired of letting what she did rule me, so I came back. And I found you.”
I blush at the sincerity he pours into his last sentence. He makes it sound like a profession of love, and my heart is pounding in my chest. “Is it always like this?” I ask. “I mean, before you met your wife, when you were with other submissives. Was it like this?”
He actually laughs, shaking his head. “Not even close. With other girls I needed the roleplay to get off. With you, it’s--” he stops abruptly, clearing his throat. The silence that stretches gives me plenty of time to realize what made him stop talking.
He was about to say he doesn’t need the roleplay to get off when he’s with me. But I still do. He doesn’t want to throw it in my face, but there it is.
He doesn’t need the bells and whistles. So why do I need them? He’s gorgeous, caring, and has just the right amount of edge to keep me interested. He cares for me. He really cares. He has all the right qualities, and still… I want to bury my face in my hands and scream. I thought my worries were behind me when he took me into a private room that first night. I thought it would be simple from then on. I even let myself believe I was having a sort of sexual awakening that might make it easier for me to enjoy vanilla sex.
“I’m trying,” I say. “I want to try. I was thinking maybe we could just, well…” I look around self-consciously at the couples sitting only a few feet from us and lower my voice. I was going to say we could take it slower or take a break, like Scarlett suggested. But saying it out loud feels wrong. Can I really take something so sensually intimate and put an artificial limit on it? “However you want to do it. I’ll do whatever you want, however you want. I’ll be good for you.”
