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“Vera.” His voice is a warning. My name rumbled over his tongue like an elicit vow he’s telling himself.
“Did you think about what you could do to me?” My tone cracks, desire lacing my words. If I can’t reason with him, then provoking him is my other option. “Did you imagine opening my legs and touching me there while I was asleep?”
I’ve barely gotten the words out when he opens his eyes and grips my neck in one large hand. The roughness of his skin sends goosebumps skittering over my flesh. His eyes are wide, burning into me, searing me with a mere glare.
“If you keep that up, I’ll hurt you.”
“Will you?” I choke out, testing him when I should be meek and submissive. But that’s not who I am. He can see it. There’s a fire inside me, a need only he can satiate. His fingers tighten; he’s squeezing the breath from me. My body is merely a toy, a rag doll, at his mercy.
Spots appear in my vision as my lungs struggle for air. But Logan doesn’t listen, doesn’t release me. He smiles, a dark, promising grin that causes me to shiver violently. I’ve read about breath play, so many times, imagining it, fantasizing about it, but actually having it done is very different.
“Are you wet for me?” he grits out, his teeth clenched as he stares at me. I can’t nod. My head is lolling to the side. “Does this make you ache for my cock inside you?” Once again, I can’t respond, so I merely watch him through my hooded gaze. My lashes are fluttering, and a lightheaded feeling is slowly taking over.
I’m about to allow it to steal me when Logan releases me, and I stumble backward into the wall. My hands shoot out to grip something, but instead, I slip to my ass, the plush throw rug softening the blow.
I can’t believe that just happened. But most of all, I can’t believe I really am wet. My panties are soaked, and the pulse between my thighs is thrumming.
“Don’t mistake me feeding you, being nice to you, as me being a good man,” he tells me, not helping me to my feet. My gaze darts around the room, but it’s only when Logan steps closer to me that my eyes land on his crotch. The thickness of him pressing against the zipper of his jeans.
My body shivers at the thought of him pushing that inside me. He doesn’t move closer, but he doesn’t move away either. The power exchange in the room hangs heavily over us. He’s the strong alpha male, and I’m the soft, gentle figurine here for him to play with.
“You’re . . .” I don’t know what to say. My words taper off into nothing. The silence that follows stretches out, almost as if it’s a cat elongating and yawning.
“I’m . . .?” he asks.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“No, that’s not what you can’t believe,” he tells me, crouching, so we’re eye to eye. “What you can’t believe is that you’re wet, needy.” He smirks. “You can’t believe your pretty pussy is pulsing, aching to be filled.”
I try to shake my head, but it’s pointless because he’s right.
“Tell me, Vera,” he says, his voice tight, and his body taut with . . . something. Need? I don’t know, but he wants to hear me admit it. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I wish I could be honest, say what I feel, what I need, but actually saying the words out loud will make it real.
“Leave me alone,” I mumble, my throat still burning from the tightness of how he held me. I wonder if I’m bruised. Logan watches me for a long while before he nods and rises. I watch him turn and stride away. He can read me, it’s clear. Apparently, to Logan Oakridge, I’m an open book, and all he wants to do is turn the pages until there are no more secrets between us.
But I need to hold onto mine for a moment longer. The door shuts, and I sit there in silence, thinking about what just happened. I want him. It’s clear my body responds to him in ways I never expected. And now he knows it too.
I glance up, remembering he brought me dinner. I scoot over to the tray and find a glass of orange soda, along with a plate of pot pie and now-cold fries. Beside it is a bowl; inside, I see a double chocolate cupcake. A small smile tilts my lips, but I catch myself from enjoying the moment.
I settle on the stool, eating slowly, thinking about Logan, and how my mind is awash with images of him doing things to me. I grab a book and flip it open, reading while I eat. Focusing my attention on the words as I savor the peppery flavor of the meat and vegetables on my plate.
