Page 37 of Winter’s Fire

“Please… Sir.” She gripped his shoulders, desperate for some way to stop, or at least slow down her faster-than-light collision course with disobedience. “I can’t… I need to come!”

“Ten, Lucy—count to ten first. You can come on ten.”

That wasn’t so bad, she could do that. “One.”

With flawless timing, he drove into her body before she finished uttering the single syllable. Each rock-hard thrust, synchronised with her counting, tested her control until, with a wild scream, she came.

With a feral growl, Logan caught hold of her and flipped both of them over, a movement that displaced him from her body. She whimpered at the loss. Above her like that, his weight resting on his arms, his body caging hers, he was pure Dominant. Even though she was still trembling with the aftermath, she wanted more—she wanted to feel him come inside her, and hold him when it happened. She licked her lips.

“Jesus, woman!”

Without warning, he claimed her mouth once more, kissing her as if their very survival depended on it. Overwhelmed by the need to have him back where he belonged, she wrapped her arms around his torso and hitched a leg over his hip and thigh, coaxing him closer.

“I should make you wait.” He rumbled the words against the side of her neck. “Next time.”

Lucy disagreed—she’d waited more than long enough. Her body opened up to him eagerly, soft and pliant and made just for him.

The savage intensity of him fired arrows of fiery arousal to every part of her body, a sensation that only deepened a thousand-fold with each fierce stroke of his dick inside her. The rhythm became faster and faster, her cries of arousal interspersed with the slap of his heavy balls against her.

“Logan!”

He took her, in a mutual climax more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced or even imagined.

Still joined, limbs entwined, they lay together while the world righted itself around them, until Logan withdrew. He collapsed to the side, one arm flung across his eyes, while the other reached for her and drew her close. Determined to hold onto the connection, she laid her hand over his heart, praying she hadn’t disappointed him.

“Lucy. Look at me.”

Where once she’d hated him calling her “princess”, now she longed to hear the nickname with all her heart—in this situation, her name sounded almost alien. She wanted to resist the pressure of his fingers under her chin, but she couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

The tenderness in his touch and his expression gave her hope. The kiss to her forehead could have been cool, detached, but the look in his eyes as he drew back after it said it wasn’t.

“I’ll be right back.”

Drained of all energy save what it took to roll over and watch him as he disappeared to the bathroom, Lucy struggled to keep her eyes open. She was hot and sweaty, and oh, the thought of a shower was so enticing, but, overcome by post-coital lethargy, she was blissfully grateful for the warm washcloth and towel Logan brought back with him.

“You okay?” he asked as he cleaned her up with surprising gentleness.

Lucy nodded, buying herself a few seconds to find her voice. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

“Rest now. There’s still plenty of time before we need to leave for the club.”

Adrift on a sea of orgasmic pleasure, Lucy was barely aware of her lover releasing the cuffs and removing them from her wrists, before he joined her beneath the sheets. She floated on the cloud of his caresses, and drifted gently into the safe haven of his arms.

~~*~~

Sex with Logan had brought her to life—incredible, kinky, perverted life. For the first time ever, as she lay on her stomach, her head turned away from the hot, muscular body beside her, Lucy felt her skin sing with the sheer joy of living.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d napped, but her nipples still ached from the way he’d pinched them and rolled them between his fingers and thumbs, a sweet agony that had fired delicious licks of pain through her nervous system. Now she understood. It was all about control and trust. Yes, a masochist would derive pleasure from the pain, but for a submissive like her, fulfilment came from surrendering control and knowing she could trust her Dominant not to abuse it.

Lucy froze. Past relationships flickered through her memory like silent movies, devoid of colour and life. Something had been missing from each and every one of them, but what she’d just shared with Logan blazed with colour and light and passion, leading her to a possibility that shook her to the core.

Had she been a submissive all along, and never known it?

“Lucy?”

New though that awareness was, it took his voice and turned it into pure, irresistible magic. His palm rested on her back, fingers curved around her ribs, exerting just enough pressure to communicate his wish for her to roll over and face him. Mouth dry, she obeyed the silent command and faced her Dom.

The concern shadowing the masculine beauty that confronted her turned her insides to mush. He was worried about her. Did he have any idea how obvious it was?