Master of the Mountain

lips over and over, possessing her mouth, showing his enjoyment. He moved back and studied her for a second. God, she wanted to hold him so badly.

He nodded at her, and then he walked away, leaving her there. She bit back her first instinct, to cry out for him. He didn't go far, just to his black bag. He pulled out a whiplike thing. It had a long leather handle and a multitude of leather strands. “This is called a flogger.”

She shook her head, trying to back away and getting nowhere.

“Becca, do you trust me?” He held her eyes. “Do you trust me enough to try something new? Do you trust me not to hurt you past what you can bear?”

She bit her lip. He wanted this. It seemed so wrong to agree, but she did trust him. She managed to nod despite how stiff her body had gone.

“Use your safe word if you need it, sugar.”

Closing her eyes, she braced herself for pain. Something stroked down her leg, soft, almost tickling. Her eyes flew open.

Not speaking, he brushed her legs with the strands of the flogger, letting them trail down her skin. It had a sensuous feel like suede. The stroking moved over her breasts, her arms, her neck. Her skin grew more sensitive until she strained forward.

Then he stepped back and, with a smooth movement of his wrist, sent the strands over her leg. It felt like being hit with a bunch of tiny sticks. No sting, no pain. In a gentle rhythm, he sent the strands up and down her body until her insides seemed to vibrate with the flogger.

Then he stopped and moved forward, putting his hand between her legs, playing with her. This time, he rubbed her clit with that knowledgeable callused finger, one side, then the other, over and over, until she pushed out, trying to get more. She could feel herself coiling tighter and couldn't believe he could actually make her forget the people, yet it didn't seem to matter, not with his body so close, with his eyes capturing hers.

He stepped back before she could come, and she almost whimpered.

He started to hit her with the flogger again, more forceful than before, but the tiny thuds didn't hurt, not that much.

“I came to town only for one reason,” he said. “To find you.” The flogger struck her calf slightly harder. “Your phone had been disconnected.” The other calf received a blow. His jaw tightened, his gaze flicked over her face, her hands, her mouth, her arms. Nothing broke into his concentration as the flogger hit in a complicated pattern, up and down. Each blow shocked a bit more, hurt a bit more, and her clit grew so tight, it felt as if someone was pinching it.

“Your apartment is rented out already,” Logan growled. “Were you deliberately trying to lose me?”

Her insides were coiling tightly until that question shocked through her, and she shook her head. No no no.

He came forward again, cupping one breast in a callused hand and kissing her lips so possessively, her knees buckled and she sagged in the restraints. A finger into her pussy shot her back into arousal. He stepped back, and the flicking started again; this time the rhythm somehow coincided with the pulsing in her clit-or caused it-until she had to bite back a moan.

“I called Matt, and he gave me your friends' numbers.” The whipping began to actually hurt, but somehow each pain turned to arousal, searing through her nerve pathways to her pussy. Each thudding blow brought her closer and closer to orgasm. “I went to see Pepper, and she sent me here.”

He'd really looked for her. It hurt now, the flogging. The pain seemed to short-circuit her brain as her emotions surged up and down. He wanted her. He said so. But he couldn't possibly. Not really. She moaned.

“Simon seems to think you want a relationship with me.” Logan's voice paused, but the flogger never stopped.

Her body hurt and somehow still seemed to be floating.

“Do you want to be with me, little rebel?”

Her mind had separated from her emotions, and only sensation remained, that and his words cutting into her, through all her defenses. “Yes,” she whispered and moaned. “I want you.” Everything kept coiling inside her tighter and tighter. The strands felt like stroking fingers on her body.

Suddenly Logan whipped across her breasts for the first time, the stroke lighter but shocking over sensitive nipples. The roaring came out of nowhere, a massive welling up of exquisite pleasure, throbbing from her core outward. Her back arched, her head tilted back. She could hear her own cries, and it didn't matter. All she could do was feel.

“You gave me the right answer, my little rebel.” Logan's firm hands unbuckled her legs, then her arms, and a strong arm curled around her waist to hold her up. He pulled her into a tight embrace, tucking her head against his shoulder and rocking slightly back and forth, as if she were a baby. “Shhh, sweetie. You're all right.”

Shudders ran through her continuously. Her face was wet. “Logan,” she whispered. “Sir.”

He pulled back enough to smile into her eyes, his hand gentle on her face. “And now I'm going to take you. You will have no doubt you're wanted.” His brows drew together. “And who your Dom is.”

Here? Wait…

He pulled her a few feet over to a hip-high bench and flattened her onto her stomach. She blinked, her head beginning to clear as he pushed her legs apart. One hand pressed against her clit, and an unrelenting hand pushed down on her lower back, holding her in place. Logan entered her with one hard thrust.

With a high cry, Rebecca came again, her back arching, her small hands gripping the edge of the bench. As her pussy convulsed around him, trying to milk him, Logan held on to his control. Barely. God, she felt good, hot and slick and tight. And he was going to take her here, in front of everyone, setting his stamp on her.

He'd never felt the need before, but he did now. “I want you too, Becca,” he said, his voice rough with effort. “I want your body all soft and warm underneath me.”

She was wide open, defenses down. Ready to hear and believe what he had to say. He moved inside her, slowly at first, to ensure he'd not erupt like a teenager, and then harder. Faster. “I want to hear you laugh in the morning”-thrust-“to watch you paint”-thrust-“I want to show you my mountains”-thrust-“and dress you in flannel shirts.”

Gripping her soft hips, he pressed deeper into her, feeling the after-climax ripples in her vagina and the tiny shudders coursing through her body. “I want to comfort you when you have nightmares and let you comfort me when I have mine.”

He gritted his teeth, the pleasure so intense, his ears started to ring. Finally he couldn't wait any longer and hammered into her with a climax that started at his toenails, gripped his balls in a pitiless fist, and finally jerked out of his cock.

She lay limp under him, and from the intense rippling around him, he'd taken her with him. Only fair, since she'd taken a piece of him when she left.

He slid out of her, savoring the small whimper. After buttoning his leathers, he pulled her to her feet and then into his arms. Soft and round and lovely. And his.

Her head spun as if she'd been drinking all night, but she knew that Logan's arms held her up. His masculine scent of pine joined with leather and sex. His heart pounded hard under her ear, thudding in the same rhythm of the whip he'd used on her and in the same rhythm as the words he'd used. “I want you.”

His hand gripped the nape of her neck, and he gave her a kiss that had the world spinning again. Her pussy clenched as his other hand squeezed her bottom, stroking over her skin. His calluses felt like…

She blinked, realizing her bottom was bare. She was naked. She'd come, screaming, in front of a club full of people.

She jerked back from him in shock, saw the people watching, and hid her face against his shoulder. Oh God.

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “Back to being shy? A tad too late, Becca.” His hand lifted her chin so she had to look at him. His eyes had gone back to steely, and his jaw tightened. “Now that your head is clear, perhaps you remember saying you wanted to be with me. Is that still true?”