Belong to Me

Page 17

She flushed, but still managed to scowl. “You’re delusional. Go fuck yourself.”
Not gonna happen. He had six days to convince Tara that he’d always loved her and that she was his. He refused to waste another second.
“You want to get down to business, fine. Lose the chip on your shoulder, get your ass over to the bed, then wait for my command.”
“You’re such a prick,” she muttered as she made her way across the room.
Logan caught up to her in a heartbeat. “That’s Master Prick to you.”
Tara rolled her eyes. With that attitude, she wouldn’t learn anything about how to behave with a suspect trying to dominate her. She was also testing his authority. Yes, she was angry, but she’d broken her engagement to roll the dice with him again. Deep down, she knew it, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.
But if she wanted to work, the first thing he was going to do was put a stop to her shitty attitude—quickly.
He grabbed her wrist and turned her around, thrusting his hand into the silky length of that fiery red hair. Fuck, he wanted to slide his tongue along her skin, his cock deeper into her body than any man ever had, and stay there until she acknowledged who she belonged to.
Taking a calming breath, Logan released her and sat on the bed, then pulled her naked backside across his lap.
Tara stiffened. “You’re not abusing my ass again, you bastard! Romeo! ”
He smoothed a hand across her firm, pale cheeks as he held her struggling form. Tara was topping from the bottom. But in case she was actually scared, he paused.
“Am I going to hurt you past what you can bear? Make you bleed? Permanently mark you?”
“No, but I—”
“Do you fear for your physical safety?”
She sighed. “No.”
“No what? Rephrase your answer.”
A long pause later, she grumbled, “No, I don’t fear for my physical safety, Logan.”
“I’ve barely touched you, but I’ve pushed you beyond what you can endure?”
Tara didn’t answer, just wriggled, trying to displace his hold on her.
Logan held her steady across his lap. “Stay still and answer the question.”
With a huff, she stilled. “I don’t like being spanked.”
“Had a lot of experience with it, have you?”
“What you did yesterday was—”
“Not meant to pleasure you. It was meant to punish. I told you that. Now I’ll show you the difference.”
“If I said no, you’d do it anyway. If I told you to fuck off, you’d only add more. At least the safe word stops you.”
“It does, but if you can’t take a spanking or a little mind fuck, how will you save Darcy or succeed on this mission? If a training exercise scares you this much, then I can’t let you proceed any further.”
Her back went ramrod straight. “I’m not scared. You just . . . annoy me.”
Annoy wasn’t the right word; he got under her skin. This emotional block was one they had to get past. She could probably learn to submit for this assignment, but these walls she thrust between them wouldn’t fly if they were going to progress as a couple. “So you’re giving me a red light because you’re annoyed with me. Is that what a safe word is for? How do you think that’s going to work undercover?”
Her fists clenched, and Logan heard her curse under her breath. Time to pull out his ace in the hole. “I’m scheduled to chat with Thorpe and Bocelli later this afternoon. Cherry, if you can’t do this, then you’re in over your head. You have a submissive nature, but mentally, you’re not allowing yourself to give up control so that you can learn—and get—what you need. I’ll ask Bocelli if he can think of another agent who could pull off the case. I’m in town for another ten days, so I can train—”
“Don’t you dare,” she snarled.
The situation was serious, but Logan had to work to suppress his smile. He knew Cherry. Yeah, she didn’t want to give up this assignment, but she really didn’t like the idea of him training another woman. Whether she knew it or not, by giving up her fiancé and refusing to let another woman take her place in his dungeon, Tara was telling him that he mattered to her.
“I’ll dare if I think you’re not ready. So either admit that you can’t handle this case or take the punishment you’ve earned.”
Tara didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, she drew in an angry breath. “The thirteen swats I had left over from yesterday? Should I count them, Logan?”
He smiled and refrained from a rousing fist pump. “Yes. And I’m adding another seven for your generally bad attitude and leaving without permission. Get ready.”
“Fine.” Her entire body tensed, as if bracing for a mortal blow.
Logan caressed her ass again. She’d find this spanking much different than yesterday’s. This one would push her to the brink until she begged for more.
A strange curl of anticipation writhed in Tara’s belly as Logan braced one palm on the back of her thigh—a gentle reminder of who was in charge—and lifted the other hand to deliver a light smack to the middle of her right cheek. A little sting spread over her flesh with a sizzle.
That was it? No terrible blow? No awful pain? She wanted to ask, but didn’t. Quickly, the sting dissipated. She found herself almost . . . disappointed.
“One.” Tara spoke the number more like a question, feeling decidedly off guard.
Then she waited. So did Logan. As long seconds ticked by, she wondered what the hell he was up to. Tara fought off the urge to look over her shoulder. Instead, she bit her lip and forced herself to remain still.
Finally, he raised his hand, this time smacking her left cheek lower, with a bit more force.
“Two,” she counted with more confidence as the slight tingle flitted across her ass again, then slowly faded. Tara squirmed, trying to extend the sensation, but it didn’t work.
The good news was, she’d easily make it through twenty of these.
“Is there a problem?”
She wriggled again, but the sweet ache was gone. Instead, a more insistent one had taken up residence between her thighs. And she was getting wet. Damn it.
“No problem.”
“Then hold still and take the rest of your punishment.”
Bastard. Tara scowled and held her breath.
Lifting his hand again, Logan rained a series of swats across her ass—on her right thigh, high on her left cheek, over the line that bisected her cheeks.
The sizzle heated up again, a little faster and harder. A little hotter. She closed her eyes to enjoy the burn seeping through her.
“Cherry?”
“Three, four, five.”
“Good.” He stroked her ass, the heat of his palms intensifying the crackling warmth.
Her breathing was a bit heavier now, her voice shakier. No doubt, he heard it, too. She wanted to hang on to her fury, but she was finding it more difficult to concentrate on anything except her anticipation of Logan’s next slap. His movements had a rhythm Tara couldn’t escape. Lured by the cadence, she sank into sensation.
“Feeling warm back here, Cherry?” He rubbed his palm over the fading sting of her right thigh, and the friction of his skin sliding against hers did something to Tara that she didn’t understand. The sensations felt almost dreamlike. The peace of it lulled her.
“Yes.”
“You finding a little place in your head to sink into?”
How had he known?
“It’s called subspace,” he offered. “All submissives go there when they’re getting what they want and need. It’s their happy place. Get cozy, baby. You’ll be spending a lot of time there.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he rained down another series of blows on her tender ass, each a bit more forceful than the last. A slow fire began to burn. Everything between her hips and her knees throbbed, especially her pussy. With the slaps ringing in her ears and the prickling heat quivering across her skin, she lost count of his blows.
“Cherry, where are we? How many?”
She blinked and realized that she’d zoned out looking at the concrete floor and feeling the erotic rhythm of his hand striking her, skin on skin.
“Six, seven, eight, nine.”
He smacked the side of her thigh. “Focus. That was six through ten. Do I need to start over?”
“No, Logan.” But she swallowed at the thought of staying here, pinned helplessly across his lap while he heaped one slap after another across her tender buttocks. She should hate his guts, but imagining that he might continue to spank her to his satisfaction made her impossibly hot and wet.
Suddenly, he thrust a hand between her legs, his fingers sliding through her copious juices to brush across her clit. She gasped and tried to twist away. No luck. He circled the sensitive nub once, twice. Tara couldn’t hold in her moan.
“You going to tell me now that you don’t like to be spanked?”
She bit her lip. How could she be aroused so completely by someone who’d broken her heart in the past and done his part to ruin her future? Then again, she had no way to lie. Given her very fair skin, she was going to bruise. And yet knowing he’d leave his mark on her somehow turned her on more.
“Cherry, I asked you a question.”
“No,” she choked. “I’m not going to tell you that I don’t like it.”
Beneath her, Tara felt Logan’s whole body relax. Did her feelings really matter to him?
Gently, he glided his palm down her spine, over her warmed ass, as he pressed a soft kiss between her shoulder blades. She had to remind herself that his tenderness was a lie.
“Thank you for your honesty,” he said softly. “I know that was difficult for you.”
Very. And she didn’t want to give him anymore ammunition, so she said nothing.
Logan stroked a hand down her hair, then cradled her head in his palm with one hand. With the other, he started raining down a series of blows again.
“Keep counting, baby,” he crooned.
“Eleven, twelve, thirteen . . .” The numbers poured out automatically, but the rest of her body was anything but machinelike. The fire spreading over her skin became a blaze burning through her blood. As her body revved up, her brain shut down. And the pain dazzled. It stripped her bravado, her barriers, until it poured into her very soul—then back out again. The hurts that had bruised her heart, both now and then, welled up and swirled together with the inferno of her backside to break her apart. Tears pooled, overflowed, slid down her cheeks.
She should be pissed, fighting and screaming being treated like a naughty child. Instead, she murmured “twenty” and prayed like hell that he wouldn’t leave her like this, alone, aching for release, and spread wide open emotionally. He’d driven her to a place so frighteningly personal.
“Good.” Logan lifted her to face him. He searched her watery eyes and teary face, then yanked her against his chest. “Cherry . . .”
Tara knew that she shouldn’t do it, but the concern and warmth on his face drew her in. She needed comfort—from him. The why of that didn’t compute. He was the one who had helped to ruin her future, then spanked her into this hot mess. But for some reason, she knew only he could put her back together.
“Shh.” He cuddled her close, soothing her with a soft touch to her hair, down her back. “You did really well, baby.”
“No,” she sobbed. “I—I have to get control. This is un-p-professional.”
And it was humiliating to admit that, despite everything, Logan could still make her want him more than any other man.
Somewhere in that alpha male head of his, she feared that he’d labeled her not just a challenge, but the ultimate one. The one who got away. Other than the one time he’d knocked on her door a few years back and she’d slammed it in his face, he’d never contacted her after their breakup. Now, he sought to seduce the little lovesick twit back to his bed. She’d become his personal Mount Everest. Clinging to him made her feel stupid.
“Cherry, we’ve covered this. Your response is honest, and that’s what I need from you. You want to come?”
Yes. Desperately. And what kind of girl got off on having her ass smacked, especially by a guy trying to fuck her over for a second time?
Tara resisted answering, wanting so badly to keep clinging to his neck, drawing in his musky earth scent . . . and avoiding that question. Instead, she pulled away, letting her arms fall to her sides.
Logan shot her a stern glance. “Be honest. Did you want to come?”
“I . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut, then forced herself to face the truth. “Yes, Logan.”
He kissed her softly in reward. “Really good, baby. Soon. What else did you feel?”
How could she explain it? She shook her head. “Like a bunch of feelings welled up inside me. With every swat, there was physical pain, but somehow that released more of it inside me.”