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That, and everything else Madison knew about him, told her that Logan wouldn't let any harm come to her. But with his fancy invitations and his sets of rules, he'd made her as nervous as if she was going to be auctioned off in truth. Even after this hug, she bet when she reread that invitation, she'd feel it again. That was his skill and the point, wasn't it? He'd said the intent of a guided fantasy was to help a sub suspend disbelief, get completely lost in it so that she accepted the fantasy as real. Like a day at Disneyland, where everyone but the most cynical bought in to that magic. It was all about the props, right? The cherry on top of the sundae would be Logan himself, becoming the center of her fantasy.
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She had no doubt he could pull it off. His reality was already close enough to it. Her fantasy was about a masterful soldier; Logan was an Army veteran as well as a Dom with a damn super capital D. In the sessions he'd done with her, at their pinnacle, she had to admit she'd felt literally owned by him. She'd wanted nothing less. At least in the session, at that moment.
All she had to do was trust him. It would be impossible to immerse herself in such a complex, volatile fantasy, unless she did . . . at all levels. And such trust would start to make her trust his other ideas. Pain for pleasure, him in her life, in her home . . . in her, forever.
"Bastard," she muttered.
He smiled against her hair, though he couldn't know why she was calling him names. She guessed it didn't really matter, since she was clinging to him like he was her last hope in the world.
"Troy and I were going to grab some pizza down the street after closing tonight," he said, lifting his head and tugging her hair so she'd look up at him. "Want to meet us? Shale's coming after work and we can make it a foursome."
"Sure. What does she do for a living? Cop? MP? MMA instructor?"
"Close. She's a geriatric floor nurse over at the hospital. Has no problem at all keeping her patients in line." He gave her a wink.
"I'll bet."
*
Dinner was . . . normal. A little Italian bistro with good wine, tiramisu and no talk of Dom/sub things. Troy and Shale teased and flirted like any other young couple, and planned to go out dancing afterward. Madison and Logan were invited. After a glance at him to see his thoughts on it, she agreed. She hadn't been dancing since the last time she'd done it with Alice.
The club they visited had a good DJ, ample floor space and dollar beer. She wasn't surprised to see Troy was an excellent dancer. He and Shale made a striking couple, as much because of their obvious close rapport as the fact they were also good dance partners.
"How do they turn it on and off? Or is that part of why it works? The defined limits? And is that why some BDSM people have a relationship like that with more than one person?"
She and Logan were taking a breather in a booth. It felt entirely right to be leaning against his chest, her leg guided over his thigh so she was half on his lap as he kept an arm around her waist, the two of them watching Troy, Shale and the other dancers. His chest rose and fell against her shoulder. The position allowed them both to be heard over the loud music, because when she lifted her face, her lips brushed his jaw. As she spoke now, she stayed there, nuzzling beneath his ear, against his throat. Keeping it soft, easy. Not taking pleasure. Sort of. Maybe skirting around the lines. His arm tightened around her, a warning, and she eased back.
"Do you do that?" she asked. "Go to your club and have sessions with subs, and then come to me?"
It was the first time she'd asked it right out. Maybe in his world it was considered acceptable. Dating was full of so many gray areas, the boundaries unclear, whereas in D/s, maybe the deal was: When you're with me, in this room, it's only about us, and this time belongs exclusively to you. The trade-off was what happened when they were out of it. It made sense some people might prefer that to the stress of wondering what their significant other was doing when not with them.
Logan still hadn't spoken, probably because she couldn't seem to stop, now that she was on the topic. "Gerald told me that he had sex with other women to serve a different need, something that had nothing to do with me. He was loser number five."
Logan brushed his lips against her temple. "Progress. You're calling them losers now. Not yourself."
"I'm an equal-opportunity judgmental bitch," she said. "Able to criticize others as scathingly as myself."
"Stop it." He gave her a harder squeeze.
"You haven't answered the question. You don't have to, I mean . . ."
"Yes, I do." He put his mouth to her ear, his breath teasing her neck. She hoped they kept playing loud music all night long, because it gave them an excuse to be this close, stay in their own intimate world.
"Yeah, there are people with vanilla spouses who aren't interested in playing Dom or sub. So they come to the club, rather than taking it home. They see it as therapy. They want to be married to the person they have; their spouse just can't satisfy that urge. Some of them know about it, some don't."
"I wouldn't want that. I couldn't do it." That might be the final answer about their future together, mightn't it? He'd said he could just be Logan with her sometimes, but how could she, a person exploring submissive feelings, be enough for a man who was obviously pure Dom?
Her body had telegraphed her sudden tension. His tongue took a teasing lick along the outer shell of her ear, sending pleasurable tingles down her spine. "Your biggest problem is you always anticipate the worst," he said. "You sabotage the relationship before you can see how it unfolds. People aren't tab A and slot B, you know."
He directed her attention back to Shale and Troy. They were now doing a slow dance, even though the DJ was still playing a fast number. Moving to a beat all their own, they seemed to have wrapped a cocoon around themselves, oblivious to anything but each other. "Watch. See her soften as he draws her closer, almost yielding, as it were . . ."
Troy dipped his head to kiss her, and yes, it looked like he was taking the lead in their dance, holding Shale securely in his strong arms, her body melted into his, swaying in rhythm.
"But now watch . . . see her hand . . ."
Her fingers, gripping his biceps, tightened, her nails biting into his skin, a clear order. Troy's head lifted, his lips wet, his eyes fastened on hers. Madison had seen that switch happen in his gaze before, like the day she'd played the role of stern librarian at Naughty Bits and teased him about being late with his books. She'd also seen it when Logan spoke to him a certain way. Troy was in control of this moment, but would hand Shale that control the way he'd hand her a whip to strike his flesh. With anticipation and the pleasure of serving both their needs.
