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The word electrode caused her to tense up. His hands cupped her knees, then slid up her thighs, thumbs trailing the inner road, drawing her attention to how much more nerve-rich it was than the outsides of her legs. Tiny tadpoles of energy quivered ahead of his touch. When he reached the top of her thighs, he stopped. The skirt didn't cover anything, really, so short her splayed leg position pushed it up to her hip bones. She let out a shaky breath as this thumbs explored that pocket between inner thigh and outer labia. When he allowed one to slide over the crotch of the panties, she made a needy noise.
"Christ, you're soaked. How long has it been since . . ."
She flushed, mortified. It wasn't that. It wasn't. It was him. But if he thought she was some pathetic and horny charity case . . .
"Hey." He touched her chin, but she ducked her face away.
"Let me go. I don't want to do this."
"Yeah, you do. You're just embarrassed because of the way I put it. You're a beautiful, interesting woman, Madison. If you've chosen not to have a man in your bed, it's because you've dealt with too many assholes, not because they wouldn't want to be there. Men. Not assholes."
She shifted, uncertain. "I'm not sure about the electrode thing."
"Don't be afraid. It's not going to hurt, not that way." He returned his touch to her thighs, sliding a finger over the wet crotch panel, then under it. When he met her gaze, slowly pushing a knuckle into her, rotating it, she bit down on a moan.
"I think the panties are going to have to go. I can uncuff your legs, but I'd prefer to cut them off of you."
"You bought the outfit," she managed. "It's yours to do what you want with."
"Just the outfit?" Those brown eyes got darker when he demanded more control, his lips firm in a way that made every part of her shudder.
She'd set herself up for that one, she knew. Even anticipated it. "Maybe not just the outfit."
He nodded. Removing and unzipping a small canvas case from the tote, she saw surgical scissors and a scalpel.
"In case of emergency, this is so I can quickly cut someone out of ropes, fabric, whatever might be restricting them. But they come in handy for other things. Like watching a pretty girl's eyes get wide as saucers when she sees the surgical tools."
"Sadist."
"Part of the job description, more or less." Logan winked. "The same way most subs have more or less of a masochist in them."
"Are you more . . . or less?"
"Depends on what the submissive needs. Whatever you need, Madison, I'll make it happen."
That brought her attention away from the shiny objects, back to his face. "That's pretty ambitious. That could be a million things."
"No. The underlying needs are usually a few simple things. Which you can fulfill in a multitude of marvelous ways." He touched her face again, though this time he stroked her temple, her cheek, slid his hand under her hair to run a fingertip along the point of bone on the back of her skull. He stroked the valley beneath that ran between her neck bones. The entire caress sent a charge through her that made her toes curl as if he'd already turned on the electrodes.
"What . . ."
"Occipital bone. That, and the area all around it, are extremely erogenous. Focusing only on a woman's nipples and pussy is like visiting two cities and ignoring the rest of the country." He dropped his touch back between her legs, ran a finger along the crotch panel once more, the friction making her hips twitch up toward him, pulling against the belt around her waist. "This area is a whole country in itself, not merely a clit and an orifice for a man to shove his dick into."
She blinked as he picked up the scissors. He snipped the straps of the thong over her hip bones, pulled them loose so the air touched the folds between her legs. "Lift your hips as much as you can."
She did, and he leaned forward, bringing his heat and scent close as he slid his hand down her back to pluck the back thong strap free from the crevice between her buttocks. As a result, it didn't chafe when he pulled it free from the front and untangled it from the garters.
He brought the thong to his nose, inhaled her, touched his lips to the moisture. "Did you get the wettest when I was suckling your breast?"
She nodded, unable to speak at the sight of him doing something so intimate. Setting the garment aside, he trailed that magical finger down her belly, teasing her navel, then traversing the plaid skirt until he was beneath the pleats, tracing her smooth mound to her clit. He routed around that, moving down. She bit her lip as he found her moist folds, stroked.
"As I was saying," he continued in a conversational manner, "Most men focus only on the clit, but the labia have so many nerves, as does the perineum, the anal rim. A woman's cunt is endlessly responsive, the way she answers to mouth, cock, hand, vibrator . . . My ultimate fantasy is to find a submissive I can give pleasure, over and over and over, until she's my slave in every way."
"You selfish bastard," she said faintly.
She startled a laugh out of him, one that was full of dark, delicious intent. He retrieved the blindfold and slid it over her head, securing it so the world became his voice and touch. She parted her lips to protest, but he anticipated her worry.
"I'm right here, Madison. Even if I'm not touching you, or talking, I won't leave you alone. Not even for a moment. While you're dependent on me like this, nothing in this world has a higher priority to me than your care. Do you understand?"
