Initiation (Master Class, #1) - Sierra Cartwright Page 0,8
voice.
“You’re doing fine,” he said.
His reassurance combined with his matter-of-fact tone made this easier than she might have imagined. “I envision myself tied up,” she confessed. “Helpless. Clamped. Blindfolded.” Writhing. Desperate. In her mind, the more intense the bondage, the harder her orgasm. She wondered if that would be true in real life.
“And then what?”
Her smile died before fully forming. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”
“I’m waiting.”
Was she really going to admit this? “I’m flogged. Hard. No matter how much I beg, it goes on and on. I’m…” She swallowed then breathed in. “It’s just a fantasy. I know it can’t really happen. I’m not sure I really want it.” But part of her did.
“You’ll always have a safe word. What I’m hearing is that you want to be pushed.”
She nodded.
“You’re hoping, deep inside, that I’m going to take away your choices and tie you to the St. Andrew’s cross,” he went on. “You want to be vulnerable, to pull against the bonds while knowing you can’t get out of them. You want to know the sensation of surrender as the structure supports your entire weight while you’re naked, waiting.”
Jennifer’s legs wobbled. Suddenly she was grateful for his tight, reassuring grip.
“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?”
“My God…”
“I can make that happen. We can make that happen. It’s just the two of us. We have all night. We won’t be interrupted. No one will be watching you. It’s just you and me and your deepest desires.” He released her wrist. “But you’ll have to ask me for it.”
He was offering to fulfill her erotic fantasies. Yes. Yes. That was exactly what she wanted. She only wished he wasn’t so overwhelming.
“Oh, and, Jennifer? One more thing. You’ll do it from your knees.”
Her breath strangled her.
He stood so close she inhaled his scent, that of musk and determination. Heavens above, she wanted this.
“What will it be? A night spent in exploration? Or shall we put away the food and head back to the city before it gets any later?”
Chapter Three
With patience learned during long days and nights of wartime waiting—brutal monotony shattered by occasional life-or-death rushes of adrenaline—Logan waited for Jennifer’s answer. He liked the way she’d blushed earlier, and now he enjoyed looking at the little furrow between her eyebrows. He guessed she’d be mortified if she had any idea how expressive her face was, the way all her emotions were so clearly readable. He knew her answer, realized she was waging an internal battle with her own desires. Just as surely, he intended to wait until she was honest with herself.
Within ten seconds, less time than he’d expected, she said, “I’d like to explore.”
The words pleased him more than he had anticipated. “Tell me your safe word. Do you want to use red?”
She shook her head. “Marshmallow.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t like them.” She wrinkled her nose in a way that showed her extreme displeasure. “It’s the texture, especially when they get warm.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll remember that?”
“I will.”
“And a word to let me know you want to slow down?”
“Can we use yellow for that?”
“Absolutely. Did you bring your flogger with you?”
She took her time, and he realized she was a woman he couldn’t rush. That would make dominating her all the more rewarding.
“I… Yes. It’s in my bag,” she said.
Obviously she’d made the same guess he had, that any gathering at the Montroses’ mountain home would end up kinky.
“Fetch it for me.”
After nodding, she walked to the foyer, unzipped her bag, then dug to the bottom of it.
The sight of the red leather flogger in her hand impressed him. It had long, thick strands. Even from across the room, he could tell it wasn’t a twenty-dollar novelty. No doubt it had cost ten times that amount, and that told him just how serious she was about this evening. “Did you bring the nipple clamps?”
She didn’t look over at him as she answered, “No.” When she was walking back toward him, her steps faltered as if she was unsure what to do.
“Hold on to it until we get downstairs,” he instructed. “I want you to formally offer it to me when you’re on your knees asking me to flog you.”
The hint of red staining her cheeks deepened.
He paused to lock the front door before retrieving his bag.
At the top of the stairs, he turned on the lights, then indicated she should precede him. He was man enough to appreciate the sway of her hips as she moved.
He made a mental reminder to