Initiation (Master Class Book 1) Read online

  That idea tantalized.

  When he slid the scramble in front of her, she sighed.

  He waited, head tipped, regarding her.

  “Thank you for breakfast.”

  His smile made her day brighter. Then he ruined it by opening his mouth again. “Much better. I prefer you compliant.”

  “Well, I don’t.” She scowled.

  “You might find the tradeoff worthwhile, if you give it a try.”

  “I’m not sure I want to.”

  “Stubborn to the end.”

  Jennifer took a bite of the steaming, delicious scramble. “Good choice on the restaurant.”

  Logan grinned, a slow, consuming expression that melted her reserves. He looked ten years younger and infinitely more approachable. Instead of relaxing her, it increased her tension. An engaging, charming Logan would be so much more difficult to deny.

  “Joe and I ate here a couple of times when I helped him with some remodeling at the house.”

  “The basement?”

  “Gives me some ideas for things I might want to do at my place.”

  It occurred to her she had no idea where he even lived. “Where is that?”

  “A house in the south part of Denver. Got it at a steal when the market was down. But honestly, it needs a lot of work. And I’m always on a case.”

  “Is that by choice?”

  He took a drink of his coffee. “Unconscious, I suppose. How about you?”

  “We have something in common. My house is a fixer-upper, but not by choice. I would have preferred something that was move-in ready, but I couldn’t afford it.”

  “What part of town?”

  “The Highlands.”

  He nodded. “Historic home?”

  “If by historic you mean old money pit, yes. Furnace. Painting. Refinishing floors. Needs appliances. All my time and savings are going into it. I told myself the tax write-off is worth it.” She shrugged. “So far I’m not sure it is.”

  “You’re doing the work yourself?”

  “Most of it. I watch a lot of how-to videos online. And I go to classes at the local hardware store.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “This week, I plan to learn how to use an air sprayer.”

  “A power tool?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Are you being a pervert?”

  “I might be. Are you going to wear coveralls?”

  “No.” Jennifer laughed. “Sorry. I just want to get rid of the canary-yellow walls as quickly as possible. Though I have to admit that when I don’t have coffee, the color wakes me up just fine.”

  He grinned. “I’d like to see the house.”

  “It’s not much more than a construction site at the moment. You’d have to bring your own hard hat, I’m afraid.”

  “I could teach you about those power tools.”

  His voice was husky, and his tone was somewhere between a tease and a promise. But the idea of having him at her place, dominating her, maybe tying her wrists to the headboard…

  A busboy collected their dishes, and Logan asked if she was ready to go.

  “It’s getting so loud, it’s difficult to hear you,” she said.

  “What?” he mock shouted, cupping his ear.

  Outside, wind had whipped up, blustery and biting. “That snow is definitely on the way,” she said. It would be smart to head back to Denver now, but she was reluctant to end the weekend so soon. She wasn’t sure when or if she’d have the opportunity to play with him again, and she wanted to experience as much as possible while she could.

  “Still want that mocha?”

  She looked at him and scowled.

  “That’s what I thought.” He cupped her elbow and led her toward the coffee shop.

  A frisson of desire teased her spine at his casual, possessive touch. And she realized she’d never been with a man who was this hands-on.

  He held the door for her. This time, she didn’t argue when he paid for their drinks.

  “Well done,” he said into her ear, the words tantalizingly rough. “I’d much rather reward good behavior than punish bad.”

  “Either one sounds good to me,” she replied, hardly able to believe she’d been bold enough to say that aloud. Was she brave or foolish? Maybe both.

  “I’m looking forward to getting you back to the dungeon.”

  Her shiver had nothing to do with someone opening the door and letting in a cold burst of air.

  An extra-large cup in hand, they went outside.

  A woman inside the boutique flicked on the neon ‘open’ sign and smiled invitingly.

  Since a long black skirt that would look great with boots caught Jennifer’s eye, she asked, “Do you mind if I have a look?”

  “Not at all. Shopping is one of my favorite things,” he replied.

  She frowned. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “Me?” He opened the door for her.

  She zipped past him, glad to be out of the soul-sapping cold.

  After exchanging a few words with the owner, Jennifer meandered to the skirt rack. Logan dutifully held her cup while she selected one and held it in front of her to check the length. “It’d be perfect for work.”

  “Can I start a fitting room for you?” the owner asked, appearing at the perfect time.

  “Thanks.” Jennifer handed over the skirt then wandered toward a tabletop stacked with sweaters.

  “The red one,” Logan said.

  “It looks as if it’s a size too small.”

  “Try it.”

  Skeptically, she picked it up.

  But once she had the outfit on, she knew he was right.

  “Show me,” he said.

  She slid back the curtain and exited the fitting room.

  “I was wrong.” His voice was tight. “You’re not wearing that sweater anywhere but on a date with me. It’s sensational.”

  “It’s perfect,” the proprietress agreed.

  Even though Jennifer was reluctant, she changed back into her other clothes.

  The shop also had a selection of lingerie.

  “I’d like to see you in these,” he told her, picking up a pair of purple panties and a matching bra.

  She met his gaze then looked at the delicate briefs in his strong hands. Wanting to be dominated by him again, she nodded.

  And didn’t protest when he purchased the gorgeous, feminine undergarments.

  “Thank you for not arguing,” he said when he opened the shop door for her. “I told you I prefer to reward good behavior. And I will.”

  She shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the gusting wind.

  They stopped at the taco place and picked up ingredients to make fajitas later. She could get accustomed to spending time with Logan if he was going to treat her this way. That thought was as terrifying as it was thrilling.

  As he opened the vehicle door, her phone signaled an incoming message.

  “Noelle,” she said.

  She let her friend know she wasn’t in trouble for setting up the evening.

  Weather looks bad. You should stay over tonight, too.

  Jennifer’s heart lurched. She’d been planning to spend part of the day with Logan, but any longer seemed far too intimate.

  “Anything important?” he asked when he was seated next to her with the engine running.

  “That was from Noelle.” She debated how to reply before settling on, “She said the place is available and we don’t have to leave.”

  Another text came in.

  Don’t worry about cleaning. We have a housekeeper scheduled for Monday.

  He looked at her.

  Instant response slid through her. She already had it bad for this man.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” she hedged.

  “I’m a greedy man, Jennifer. I’ll take as much of your time as you’re willing to give me. An hour, a day, another night, a week, maybe even more.”

  “More?”
<
br />   “Yeah. But for tonight, I have a few ideas on how we can pass the time.”

  “Oh?”

  “The first one involves the coffee table.”

  “The…” She stared at him. “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “I’d never thought of it as bondage equipment.”

  “Everything is. Tell Noelle we’re staying.”

  A big fat snowflake plopped on the windshield. Despite that, his comment had warmed her insides. She was curious. And it turned out that she, too, was greedy. “In that case, Sir…consider it done. Show me what you have in mind.”

  Chapter Seven

  Once they were inside with the door sealed to block out the blustery wind, Logan discarded their empty cups then put away the food before calling out, “Please take off all your clothes and bend over the coffee table.”

  Though she should have expected the order, the suddenness of it caught her off guard.

  She went into the living room. Her pulse stuttered as she toed off her boots then pulled down her tights.

  Jennifer looked into the kitchen and noticed he wasn’t paying any attention to her.

  With a scowl, she finished undressing then got into position, or at least she hoped it was the position he wanted. She bent over and placed her palms on the tabletop.

  He went down the hallway, and time stretched.

  Outside, the wind whipped against the house and snow started to hit the window.

  Her skin chilled, more from the sensual exposure than the temperature. Her shoulder muscles began to ache.

  She was tempted to stand or at least stretch. Indecision warred in her. Her Dom expected to have his orders followed. But what would it hurt to move, even a little?

  But Logan’s earlier words, about rewarding good behavior, teased her subconscious, sending a rush of anticipation through her. The desire to have his positive attention was more powerful than her need to move.

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds then breathed out.

  “Bravo.”

  Jennifer stayed in position, though she curled her toes under. The sound came from a distance, which meant he had been watching her. For how long?

  He walked into the living room, stood in front of her and placed his bag on the floor near her.

  Then he went behind her and traced his fingertips up the insides of her thighs. It took all her control to remain in position.

  “Still no marks.”

  “No?” Suddenly she wanted one, at least one to remember the weekend by.

  He ran a finger across her clit, and she clenched, getting wet, wanting.

  Before she could move against him, he removed his hand.

  “Sir!”

  “Quiet.”

  He left her to turn on the fireplace before facing her.

  She hazarded another glance his direction to see him standing with his back to the flames, arms folded across his chest, jaw set, eyes narrowed, gaze focused on her.

  It took all her concentration to remain in place, waiting on his pleasure, sub to Dom.

  Mind fuck.

  “Spread your legs as far as you can.”

  Once she had, he returned to her and unzipped the bag.

  In her peripheral vision, she saw exactly what he doing. He pulled out cuffs then bent to secure her ankles to the table legs.

  Next came the clamps.

  He took his time playing with her breasts and teasing her nipples into tight little buds. This time, he didn’t ask before letting the Japanese clovers bite into her flesh.

  She sucked in a breath but didn’t protest.

  And when he teased her pussy, the pain faded, becoming pleasure before blooming into the sharpness of need. “Sir…”

  He immediately dropped his hand.

  She gritted her teeth. And she stared as he removed a tawse.

  “Remind me of your safe word.”

  “Will I need it?”

  “Potentially.”

  She tightened her muscles and tried to press her thighs together. “Marshmallow,” she whispered.

  “I’m going to push you harder than I have before. Three strikes on each thigh. Keep your hands on the tabletop. Unless you’d like them tied together?”

  “No.”

  He dug his hand into her hair.

  “I mean, no, Sir. I’ll keep my hands in place.”

  “Better.”

  She was aware of him taking a small vibrator from a side pocket. He tucked the tawse beneath his arm before cleaning the toy with an alcohol wipe. Then he turned the vibrator on to a low hum and pressed it against her clit.

  “Oh… Crap.”

  He flicked the metal chain of her clamps, and she jerked to one side, only to be stopped by the ankle restraints.

  After moving the vibrator aside, he seared the inside of her right thigh with the double-stranded tawse.

  Before she could protest, he put the vibrator back against her clit.

  He flattened his palm between her shoulder blades for a moment to reposition her. Before she could orgasm, he once again took away the vibrator and marked the inside of her left thigh.

  The area burned, but the pain quickly receded.

  She pushed her hips back, silently asking for the stimulation again, hoping he’d relent and get her off.

  But the wicked Dom refused.

  Instead, he laid the tawse to the outsides of her upper thighs before tugging on her clamps.

  She swayed, bucked, screamed.

  “So fucking hot,” he said.

  As if completing a design, he scorched her skin, right beneath her buttocks.

  The tawse clattered to the floor.

  From behind, he finger-fucked her, circling her clit with the vibrator and going inside her wet cunt, knuckles-deep with each thrust.

  She was going out of her mind, from the horrible burning sensation on her skin to the evil grip of the clamps.

  Even last night, she hadn’t experienced anything near this intense.

  He overwhelmed her.

  “Logan…” She shook her head and immediately regretted it when the clamps swayed again.

  “Master Logan. Use the right term if you want something, otherwise we can stop right here. Now.”

  “Master Logan,” she said. “You’re going to make me come.”

  “Oh yes. I am.”

  He pushed the vibrator fully against her, spreading her labia, throbbing against her clit a dozen times a second. He continued his relentless sensual thrusting, splitting her apart.

  She screamed as the climax rocked her from the inside out.

  The world shattered, went bright, then… Nothing. Silent. Still. Empty.

  He released her ankles then the clamps before helping her to stand.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “I love a fast learner.”

  He helped her to the couch where he pulled her into his lap and rubbed her arms against the chill.

  Outside, a storm now raged. Wind whipped the snow sideways, obliterating the view of Denver. It was as if they were sealed off from the rest of civilization.

  She recalled his earlier response when he’d talked about keeping the civilized world separate from his.

  “I guess we’re staying,” he said long minutes later.

  She became aware of the scratchy denim on the tawse marks and also the strength of his arms. If this was his world, she liked being part of it.

  He fetched a blanket from the bedroom and covered her with it.

  They turned on the television to watch classic movies, but he kept the volume low enough that they could talk.

  A few hours later, he straightened the area then poured her a glass of white wine while he warmed up the ingredients for lunch.

  She scooted around so she could watch him work, and since her body was naked and a little fatigued, she felt no guilt in letting him wait on her. “How does a private eye become so adept in the kitchen?”

  “I don’t know about t
hat,” he said, as he removed lids from the sour cream and guacamole. “I’m great with reheating and putting takeout on plates. I’m more interested in consuming enough calories than the way they taste.”

  “Seriously? I enjoy cooking.”

  “Don’t misunderstand.” He met her gaze. “I like eating excellent home-cooked meals.”

  “It wasn’t an invitation.”

  “Damn.”

  She grinned.

  “But in the military, I learned to eat when I could. And now, on surveillance, sometimes food is the only thing that keeps me awake and focused.”

  “Do you do it a lot? Surveillance, I mean.”

  He turned away to stir the peppers, onions and chicken. “More than I want.”

  “What are you looking for, cheating spouses?”

  Logan looked over his shoulder at her. “Not once.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “I generally don’t talk about it.”

  “I’m curious about the guy who spanked my ass and fucked me until I almost passed out.”

  “Me?” he asked, turning back to her.

  She grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him.

  Effortlessly, he captured it and set it on a counter.

  Realizing he was almost finished, she stood.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Uhm, to put on some clothes.”

  “Was there a part of I want you naked that you didn’t understand?”

  Heat bloomed in her face. “But—”

  “The BDSM thing isn’t pretend for me,” he said. “Unless you’d like to forgo it for the rest of the weekend?”

  It’s a boundary during a scene, helps separate the civilized world from mine.

  “This isn’t a scene.” She blinked. “Unless I’m confused? I thought unless…”

  “Go on.”

  “Unless you were flogging me or we were having sex…” Her entire body felt as if it were filled by pinpricks. “Well, that we were just friends.”

  “I don’t have a lot of interest in being just friends, Jennifer.”

  “Then…what?”

  “We’re in one big long scene.”

  “We can’t be friends?”

  “I want to be more than friends.”

  She looked at him over the rim of the wineglass. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I like you, Jennifer. We’re compatible. At least the way you screamed my name and came all over my hand seems to indicate you enjoy sex with me. And maybe I’m premature, but I’m guessing you may want to do it again.”