I’m sitting at a barstool in front of Logan’s kitchen island, watching him cook. He’s still wearing the black shirt from the club, but he undid another button at some point, and when he turns just right, I can catch a glimpse of tanned skin. I’m ashamed by how much my body responds to him at first, but I mentally scold myself for my shame. I have nothing to feel bad for. He’s a drop-dead gorgeous man who’s single. I’m single. Why should I keep battling these feelings of guilt? He woke something sexual up inside me that I never knew was lying dormant, and now that it’s out, it seems to be really out.

Even while I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by letting our relationship get complicated, my body has no doubts at all. I wore white cotton panties again. I blush a little thinking of how I promised myself I would keep my distance from him, but still wore white cotton panties just on the off-chance that he would see them. I guess I knew how this was going to end, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself.

“Whatever you’re making over there smells ridiculously good,” I say, eyes locked on his perfect ass.

He tosses a heap of vegetables and sauce skillfully in the skillet. The food sizzles and pops, bathing me in a delightful scent of something almost floral and sweet, like a good red wine cut through with butter. It has my stomach rumbling already. He checks something in the oven and knees the oven door shut, spinning around to finish chopping garlic. I twirl my hair as I watch him, marveling at how quickly my doubts are fading into background noise. This might be okay. Maybe I’ve been making too much out of nothing.

I think the thing that is giving me the most pause is how I can consolidate the kind of sex life a man like Logan offers and a normal relationship. I’m so incredibly drawn to the powerful, domineering side of him that comes out when he wants me, but how can he be both the dominant I need in the bedroom and the more normal, understanding kind of man I need outside of it? Maybe I could learn to love the charming, thoughtful, and almost kind side of Logan I see now. But wouldn’t that compromise my ability to fear him in the bedroom and quiver at his slightest touch?

I sigh quietly, nibbling on my thumbnail until I realize what I’m doing and stop, pressing my hands to the marble countertop to keep myself from fidgeting any more than I already am. Logan makes me feel batshit crazy. Like I’m being forced to choose between the sex life I never thought I’d have and the most perfect guy I never thought I’d deserve. Maybe I don’t though, but I’m starting to think if I have to, I’ll choose him. I made it this long without a real sex life, and I can make it the rest of my life if I have to.

“So you said we’re watching your favorite movie. Am I allowed to ask?”

He turns slightly, narrowing his eyes as he apparently decides if I get to know. “No. I think it should be a surprise.”

I laugh. “Should I be scared?”

“Probably,” he admits as he slides the chopped garlic into the sizzling pan and adds another layer of deliciousness to the smell. He flips the contents of the pan a few more times and then sets it off the burner.

He opens the oven and pulls out four bowls made out of pastry-dough. They are golden, flaky, and shimmering with a hint of oil and egg wash. My mouth waters just to look at them, and then he spoons some of the vegetables, beef, and sauce into each bowl, topping them with a handful of shredded cheese before sliding the pan back into the oven.

He moves to the cabinet and pulls out two wine glasses, setting one in front of me and then opening a door that leads to an entire pantry full of wine racks. He runs his finger thoughtfully over the bottles before finally selecting a beautiful bottle that’s probably incredibly expensive. He uncorks the bottle and swirls it, letting some air in. Logan pours us both a glass and raises his.

“To building trust,” he says, meeting my eyes.

I blush a little, clinking my glass against his. “Yeah. To trust.” I sip the wine and raise my eyebrows. “Wow. That’s really good.”

He smiles, jogging over to the living room and fishing out a DVD from a cabinet beside his huge television. He inserts the disk and jogs back to the kitchen to pull out the now perfectly cheese-crusted pastries full of meat, vegetables, and sauce. He plates one for each of us and nods toward the living room couch. “You don’t mind eating on the couch, do you?”

“I actually always eat on the couch,” I say. “Eating around a dinner table has never really been my thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he says.

We both take our spots on the loveseat and he shows me how to pop the recliner out.

“Oh my God. This couch is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on,” I say.

He laughs. “Thanks. I think it was imported, but I had a woman from France take care of all the decorating. I don’t get to spend much time here.”

“I can imagine,” I say, thanking him as he hands me my plate. I set my wine glass on the end table to my left and try a forkful of the steaming pastry. The flavor explodes in my mouth. The melted cheese on top has a perfect bite and slightly crunchy texture around the edges, and the pastry is buttery and smooth. The meat inside has a faint sweetness from the wine and is cooked to absolute perfection. The vegetables add just the right amount of crunch and an earthiness that brings everything together. I swallow and turn to him, eyes wide.

He catches my look and laughs. “You like it?”

“Like it? I love it. Holy shit,” I say, laughing down at the pastry. “I wasn’t planning on embarrassing myself by pigging out, but I may have to go back for seconds.”

He looks at me seriously, hand squeezing my thigh and sending waves of heat through my body. “You should never be embarrassed around me. Do you understand?”

Do you understand… His words call up memories of how he was with me as my dom. I’m struck by the overlap. Maybe he is kind at times and maybe he is charming, but I’m starting to realize there’s an undercurrent of expectation beneath his kindness. He expects obedience, whether he favors me with smiles or not. He may not be as extreme outside of the club, but he is still dominant. I’m surprised by how much that matters to me. I don’t even want to start digging into my past to figure out where the switch flipped that made me think I need a man to dominate me, but it’s there. I never felt or saw it before, but after my first night with Logan at Club Crave, it’s so painfully obvious I can’t believe I never saw it before.

I need it. I don’t know yet if I need it in every facet of the relationship, but the small hint Logan just gave me feels right somehow, like a gentle tease and reminder that he may be playing nice, but he still expects me to do as he wishes.

“Emmaline…” There’s a hint of warning in his voice. Don’t make me ask twice. He doesn’t say it, but I can sense it on the tip of his tongue.

“I understand, S--” I clamp my mouth shut, blushing. I was about to say sir.

His smirk says he knows exactly what’s going through my head. He raises the remote and turns the T.V. on and then starts the DVD. I laugh out loud when I realize what movie it is.

“Terminator 2? This is your favorite movie?”

“You’ve seen it?” he asks. The hint of excitement in his voice makes me laugh.

I grin. “I don’t know. Maybe like thirty years ago when it was released.”

He shakes his head. “It was released in ninety one, and you wouldn’t have been alive to watch it if it was released thirty years ago.”

I smirk at him. “I was just trying to see if you knew the release date.”

He laughs. “Well, you caught me.”

We watch the opening scenes of the movie in relative silence while we eat the delicious meal he prepared and sip our wine. It’s not an uncomfortable silence though. I get the impression Logan has seen the movie more than a few times, but he’s still extremely focused on the screen, even leaning forward slightly. It’s another side of him I haven’t seen, and it’s humanizing in a good way. I needed something like this. Something slow and more normal. I feel like I can finally catch my breath. I’m with Logan and it’s not like we’re sprinting full-speed ahead.

In a normal relationship, men are on their best behavior for the first date or even the first few. It’s only gradually that they start showing the many sides of their personality. But with Logan, we skipped the entire guarded phase of the relationship. I immediately saw his deepest and darkest secrets and he saw mine. I guess being careful or guarded felt pointless after that. I’ve seen the extremes of his personality, but not the more everyday moments that build a bridge between those extremes. He can cook. He loves an old, goofy movie. He wishes he was home more often. He likes tennis. And he turns into a sex god with a paddle when he gets turned on.

All joking aside, I needed this. More than I knew. I needed to see he was more than just a beautiful face and body.

He gets up to refill our wine glasses a few times, and either I’m getting more tipsy than I realized, or the movie is actually good. I find myself leaning forward with Logan, wine glass clutched tightly in my hand as I watch Arnold Schwarzenegger get brutalized by the T-1000 in the middle of some apocalyptic factory brimming with molten metal.

Logan catches my interest and smiles. His hand rests on my leg and I look down, biting my lip at how the innocent contact thrills me. I look to him, but he shakes his head, pointing toward the screen. “You’ve got to see how it ends.”

I scowl a little, but I admittedly do want to see how the terminator is going to save John and Sarah Connor.

“Wait,” I say a few minutes later as the final credits are rolling. “Why did we start with Terminator 2? Isn’t there a Terminator 1?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t talk about Terminator 1. As far as I’m concerned, they only ever made one Terminator movie.”

I laugh, but the humor quickly fades to something heavier when our eyes meet. My legs are curled under me on the couch and I’m sitting slightly sideways, facing him. He’s reclined casually, looking absolutely irresistible. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, showing off his amazing forearms and strong hands. His shirt has come slightly loose from where it’s tucked into his slacks, and I can see just the slightest hint of flat, tanned skin.

My eyes wander down and find the bulge of his cock. I suck in a breath.

Logan’s eyes narrow slightly and the corner of his mouth twitches up in the faintest grin. “You know, if you dropped that glass of wine, I would be extremely upset with you. I might have to punish you.”

I look at the glass in my hand and then back at him, his meaning sinking in quickly. It’s an offer. He’s giving me the choice. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the new, closer connection I feel to him. I don’t know what it is that pushes me to do it, but I don’t just drop the wine glass. I sling it down, spraying the lush white carpet with red wine and shattering the glass when it lands.

His lips press together and he breathes out a long, hard breath through his nose, not breaking eye contact.

“Upstairs. You remember where my room is. Go there. Wait by the leather door.”

He grabs my arm as I’m about to stand. “Avoid the glass.”

I nod, realizing I was actually about to just walk right over the pile of broken glass. I cross the living room to the huge stairs, tracing the path I followed weeks ago when I was searching for a bathroom and exploring his house. I find the leather door in his bedroom and wait, not knowing exactly what to do or how he expects me to wait. All I know is my heart is pounding. I’m putting more trust in him than I have yet. I’m alone at his house and no one knows I’m here. The thought thrills and terrifies me.

I decide to sit on the edge of his bed, but he only makes me wait a few minutes before he stalks into the room wearing his suit and mask. I feel a jolt of excitement when I see the outfit. Like a switch has been flipped, he’s my dom now, completely. I lower my head, feeling the dynamic has shifted and knowing I don’t want to displease him. I want to be his perfect little sub. His perfect little slut.

I would laugh at myself if I wasn’t afraid of upsetting Logan. Listen to me. Just a month ago I was the average, sensible woman with everyday ideas about sex. My experience with sex may have been boring and unsatisfying, but it was normal. Now I’m getting wet to think of myself as an obedient little slut. Even as my body is responding and readying itself for the experience I’m about to have, my mind races, trying to make sense of this strange kink I’ve found myself so drawn to.

As much as I try, I just can’t figure out why this is working for me. Maybe it’s because it lets me split off a little part of myself, a different, less responsible part of me that can be uninhibited and let someone else call the shots for once. Maybe I’ve developed some twisted self-punishing complex from watching my mother let the men who came after my father verbally and physically abuse her. Or maybe I’ve been backstabbed so many times I need to have a man show he can take my complete trust and treat it with care. Whatever the reason, even the thought of submitting to Logan and letting him bring me into this world of leather and punishment lights a fire of desire in me unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

Maybe the best approach is to stop asking why. I should just close my mind to the doubts and questions and listen to my body, because my body is sending a much more clear message than my mind. Fuck him. Submit.

Logan eyes me through the mask he wears and then moves to a dresser on the far wall. He twists the false bottom from a vase and pulls out a key. It’s an old, antique style key, thick, gold, and ornate. He moves to the leather door, slides the key in, and twists. There’s a series of metallic clicks from deep inside the door and the sound of something heavy shifting. When Logan presses, the door slides smoothly open.

“Come,” he says.

I stand, following his tall frame into the room. The room is large, but not so big that it’s not intimate. The walls are made of a plush, velvety material that is a dark scarlet color. There’s no shortage of toys and devices either. I recognize some, like the spreader bars, nipple clamps, and metal rings on the ceiling like I’ve seen women suspended from at Club Crave. Others are more mysterious, like a tall wooden object that looks vaguely like a cross, and a leather chair that looks like something from a massage parlor. There’s also a huge bed in the center of the room that looks slightly out of place.

I’m tempted to jokingly ask him if this is the point when most girls run away, but something in his demeanor and the atmosphere of the room keeps me quiet. This isn’t a place for jokes or light-heartedness. This is a room for exploration. It’s a place for reaching into the darkest of sexual desires and shining a light.

Logan stands near the center of the room, feet wide in a powerful stance as he turns to face me. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, pacing from side to side, never letting his eyes leave me. “I recall the way you watched the woman at Club Crave. The one who was being fucked by three men. She was hanging from straps a lot like these, wasn’t she?” he moves to a table and lifts three long leather straps with metal loops at either end.

I nod. “Yes. She was, Sir.”

“I think you would look good strapped to my ceiling, don’t you?” He moves toward me, dragging one of the leather bindings behind him and picking up some kind of cushioned cuff with the same type of metal ring on the end.

I flinch backwards. Part of what was going through my mind when I watched the woman in the club was amazement that she would let herself be put in such a helpless position. Being bound by strips of silk to his bed was one degree of helplessness, but being suspended from the ceiling… that’s a whole different level.

“Take off your clothes,” he says. He drops the cuff and the strap at my feet, turning to gather the rest of the straps and cuffs, and I’m afraid to see his reaction if I haven’t already followed his orders by the time he turns back around.

I strip out of my dress quickly, kicking the white cotton panties I wore down with it and unhooking my bra before tossing it to the ground. I shove the whole pile to the side with my toe. I’m completely naked and he’s fully clothed. The air is comfortable in his play room, but against my bare skin it feels just chilly enough to tempt me to cross my arms. He steps toward me and I can’t help noticing how much more in control he seems when I’m unclothed in front of him. I feel like a plaything, something prized. It’s a good feeling, in a dirty sort of way.

He lifts one of the cuffs and meets my eye. I catch the meaning of his look immediately. He’s giving me another chance to back out. He’s reminding me that the whole point of this is for my pleasure, and if I’m too uncomfortable to try, all I have to do is walk away.

I stare back into his gaze and raise my arm, offering it to be fastened with one of the cuffs. His face shows no expression as he nods, fastening cuffs to both my biceps and my thighs just above the knee. He steps on a small footstool and fastens one end of the straps to the ceiling and then adjusts the length of the straps until they are a little shorter. “Come here,” he says.

I step toward him, finding it a little awkward to walk with the somewhat bulky cuffs around my legs and arms.

“You’ll have to hook them to yourself once I lift you.”

“Okay,” I say nervously.

He lifts me carefully, almost tenderly, taking me beneath the knees and under the arms like a child. He makes me seem weightless as he lifts me a few feet off the ground until I can reach the straps and fasten them to my four cuffs. He carefully lowers me until he’s sure the cuffs are all fastened correctly and then he lets go. I feel all my weight settle down and distribute through the cuffs. I’m surprised when it’s not uncomfortable. I could actually imagine taking a nice, cozy nap in this thing.

But given the current circumstances, I’m as far from sleep as I can possibly be. My pussy is wet with anticipation, and Logan paces around beside me, getting something ready I can’t quite see. I’m about three feet off the ground and my legs are spread slightly. It feels like I’m lying in a hammock, but I have to slightly engage my stomach to keep my back from sagging. The harnesses do the rest of the work, holding me up by the legs, arms, and back. There’s enough slack for me to move some, but any significant movement is restricted. If Logan were to walk out of the room right now, I’m not sure I could pull myself up with enough strength to unhook myself. I would be trapped.

My stomach turns a little to think of how much trust I’m putting in him, but the throbbing need in my core overwhelms that. I need to just let go. I need to be uninhibited for once. I need to enjoy this.

Logan walks around me, gripping me hard by the hair and looking straight at me. “It’s time you learn your place, Kitten. On your back, at my mercy. First, I’m going to lick your pussy until you’re begging for my cock. But you’ve been difficult, so you’re going to get my cock, but you’re not going to get it where you’re wanting it.”

I feel my eyes widen slightly. I think I know what he means. Is he going to fuck me in the ass? I’ve never tried that, and the idea is more than a little frightening to me, but I hold my tongue. It’s like he said our first time together, this is about testing my limits. If I don’t like it, I can always tell him to stop.

I keep reminding myself about that. I can stop this at any time. Still, it’s one thing for him to tell me I can stop him and another for him to actually stop. For all I know, he’s never planning to let me go. Guilt creeps through me at the excitement that idea brings me. It’s only a shallow level of excitement though. I need more than sex. I need more than finding the right guy. I need to succeed with my business. The truth is all three are connected, and I don’t think I’ll be completely satisfied unless I have all three. Call me greedy.

His hands snap me out of my thoughts. It’s starting for real now. His touch brings me so powerfully to the here and now that all the rambling musings in my mind are shut off in an instant. There’s only his calloused touch against the softness of my thighs, the heat of his breath against my clenching pussy, and the sound of my shallow breaths as I wait for him to fulfill his promise.

He doesn’t just lick at me or gently kiss his way toward my slit. He presses his face into me forcefully, driving his tongue into my opening and dragging it up to my clit, circling, kissing, and sucking. The immediacy of it makes me throw my head back and gasp.

“Oh, Logan,” I moan.

He grunts into me, the vibration of his mouth only intensifying the already unbelievable sensations flooding through me. He barely has to kneel to reach my pussy with the way I’m suspended, and I’m completely at his mercy. I could struggle, fight, and try to resist all I wanted and it would make no difference. Right now, as his mouth kisses wetness and heat into my most sensitive place, I’m completely his and I’m completely at his will.

The mounting pressure within me threatens to burst at any moment and I want to clutch his head and gently push him back, but I can’t. He’s squeezing my breasts and pushing down slightly so that I would have to exert inhuman force to pull myself up with the way I’m strapped to the ceiling. All I can do is lay back and brace myself, fearing the intensity of my coming orgasm.

Just when I think I can’t hold it back any more, he stops. I don’t know why I’m afraid to cum yet, but I remember the way he wanted me to wait until he was inside me last time. I feel like it’s some kind of test to see if I can still figure out his wishes even if he doesn’t tell me what he wants. He moves to my side, still fully clothed and masked. He leans down slightly to kiss me and I can taste myself on him, but I don’t care. It’s part of his show of dominance to make me do it, and I gladly play along. Anything to have his lips against mine and his hot tongue probing my mouth.

I hear a faint zipping sound and he pulls back as he frees his cock. My core throbs when I look at it, getting even wetter, which I didn’t think was possible. His dick stands fully erect, veins pulsing faintly with his heartbeat. I lick my lips, unable to take my eyes away from it.

It seems like a vulnerability, the only vulnerability in his otherwise impenetrable armor. He’s my dom. He’s all powerful and his will is the law when I’m in this room. But that perfect, fat cock of his is my one weapon against him. It’s the one way I have of bending his will to mine, and if he lets me, I’m going to see just how well he can maintain his control.

As I hoped, he reaches up and adjusts my straps slightly so I sink down a few inches until his cock is level with my mouth.

“Suck my cock, Kitten,” he says, voice a low, rumbling growl.

The harness around my bicep gives me the freedom to bend at the elbow and wrap my fingers around his waiting cock, taking the velvety head of his cock into my mouth. My eyes trail up to his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, forehead scrunched in pleasure. His lips are slightly parted. I love that I can affect him like this, and it only pushes me further, daring me to do more and do it better.

I let my fingers slide down his base until I’m cupping his balls. I’m able to move my head up and down freely, but starting to feel the strain of having to hold my head upright without any support. As if he’s reading my mind, he grips me by the hair and starts to fuck my face. I only have a split second to feel relief that he’s holding my head up for me before he starts pushing himself so far into my throat that he triggers my gag reflex. I try to swallow around his cock, but I gag a little. He pulls back, leaving me gasping right along with him. My eyes water, but I fix him with a determined look, leaning forward to take him back in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock.

I grin in satisfaction when he has to pull himself quickly out of my mouth. “You’re trying to make me cum before I want to, aren’t you?” He asks. His voice is stern, but there’s a hint of amusement in it.

I do my best attempt at a shrug while strapped to the ceiling.

He bites his lip and grins. “I knew you would be the perfect fucking submissive.” He strides across the room to a table and strips off his jacket. He tosses it to the floor carelessly, like it doesn’t cost thousands of dollars. He unbuttons his cuffs and then his shirt, letting those fall too. His broad back tapers to his narrow waist. I want to run my hands down every last muscle on proud display, but yet again, he is calling the shots, and he doesn’t seem intent to let me have free roam of his body yet. Just one more way he’s showing me his dominance.

He undoes his belt and then works his button open and slides his pants down. His black briefs hug his amazing ass and give me a perfect view of his lean, powerful legs. The briefs come off last, and all I can do is sigh at the sight of him completely naked. I trace the strong line cutting down his back, splitting the two wide slabs of muscle on either side, following it down to his ass, which is tight and absolutely biteable. If he gives me a chance, I might just have to confirm how bitable it really is.

He turns and walks toward me, confident in his nudity, as he should be. There’s no spare fat on him and he’s completely and totally aesthetic. Art students would probably wet themselves if they had a chance to draw his form and study it. Though I doubt female students would make it past the staring phase.

It’s only when he positions himself between my legs with a bottle of clear liquid in his hand that I remember his promise. I’ll get his cock, but not where I want it. I involuntarily clench, trying to squeeze my legs together. His powerful hands push them farther apart.

“Relax,” he says, easing his lubricated finger into my ass. I feel my body resisting at first, making the sensation of him inside me pinch uncomfortably.

“Trust me. Relax. Close your eyes and let go, Kitten.”

I try to do as I’m told, sighing out a long, halting breath as he gets his finger deeper. Soon the discomfort shifts into something verging on pleasure, and then I’m moaning and gasping as he pumps a second finger into me.

“Stay relaxed,” he says, slowly pulling his fingers out and gripping himself by the root. He eases the tip of his cock upward until it presses the tight ring of my ass.

I feel myself clench again, stiffening.

“Relax,” he says, more forceful this time.

I close my eyes, picturing myself straightening racks full of baby clothes I designed in my own brick and mortar store. A faint smile pulls at my lips and my body starts to relax.

I hear the bottle he holds click open and there’s a pause as he rubs what must be more lube on his cock. He chucks the bottle to the ground and lines up again, easing himself into me. There’s a brief stab of pain and a strange, uncomfortable sensation as I feel my ass stretching to fit him. Once he’s pushed himself past that point, my muscles start to get used to the feeling, and I even start to feel a pleasant sensation.

“Fuck. You’re ass is so fucking tight.”

“Oh God,” I say, gasping and squeezing my eyes shut as he begins to increase his pace. I’m shocked at how good it feels, and when his free hand plunges into my pussy with three fingers, the pleasure practically explodes. The sensation of being filled in both holes is indescribably good, and beyond that is the enjoyment of knowing he’s taking me where no man has ever dared to before him. He’s marking me in a way that can never be undone, and I don’t want him to stop.

“I’m going to cum in your fucking ass,” he growls.

“I want it,” I gasp, digging my heels into his back and pushing into him as much as I can in my position.

He thrusts into me hard, making the bindings clatter and shake with the force of his thrust. I grip my legs around him, pussy clenching around his fingers as his cock stretches my tight ring. He increases his pace until it’s punishing. Each thrust sends me bouncing backwards, only to slide back into his relentlessly pumping cock and fingers. My world is a blur of sensation and bliss. My mouth is opened in a permanent, silent gasp. The pleasure is too intense to even moan, all I can do is hold on tight and ride the wave.

It’s not long before I can’t hold back my climax anymore. It pours out of me with the force of an explosion. I let my head fall back, neck bent and exposed as I gasp in shallow breath after shallow breath. Ecstasy tears through me with blinding force, washing away all my doubt and worries.

Logan breathes out hard and pulls back, stroking himself as he sprays ropes of hot cum across my thighs, my mound, and my stomach. Just the contact of his cum with my skin sends my orgasm into overdrive, and I have to grip the ropes holding me to the ceiling for support while my body shakes and quivers.

“Oh my God,” I gasp finally.

Logan smirks, blowing out a puff of air that knocks a loose strand of his hair out of his face. “You were amazing,” he says, reaching to undo the straps holding my legs. He eases me down carefully once my legs are free. Once he frees my arms, I feel suddenly unsure of what he expects. I’m standing naked beside him, body still covered in his cum.

He answers my question by picking me up as if I weighed nothing and carrying me to his bedroom. I’m grateful too, because I don’t know if I could walk after being fucked like that. He helps me into the shower. He presses a button on the wall outside the huge shower and jets of steaming water pour from four showerheads. I feel a slight pain in my ass, but it’s mild. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy it for the next few days because it will be a reminder of how my dom enjoyed and used me.

“Nice shower,” I say to fill the silence that has stretched between us.

He smirks, taking my hand and helping me to step in. He moves me until I stand in the center of the four streams of water. It feels amazing. Hot water patters against me from every direction, and the rising steam bathes me in a purifying mist. Through the cloud of white vapor, I can see Logan’s dark outline and the hint of how hungrily he watches me. It makes me feel good to be desired so powerfully. I don’t feel any of my normal insecurities about how the gap between my thighs isn’t big enough, or the patch of skin that shows cellulite in the wrong light that marks my legs. None of my normal shortcomings seem important when I’m with Logan. It’s as if noticing such small imperfections is beneath him. He seems to crave me just as I am, and that knowledge is incredibly empowering.

I just wonder if he’ll feel the same way outside the bedroom. Or outside the playroom, I guess I should say.

Logan moves behind me and gently tilts my head back so my hair gets caught in one of the streams of water. He runs his hand across my scalp, working the water deep into my hair. He grabs a bottle from a marble shelf and flicks the cap up with one hand, squeezing some of the gel out and rubbing it into my hair. The shampoo froths in my hair quickly and an amazing scent fills the shower. I lose myself in the way his strong fingers feel threading through my hair, pulling the shampoo through every last strand carefully. When I sneak a look at his face, he looks absolutely absorbed in his task, as if he’s enjoying it as much as I am.

I smile, biting my lip. “Mmmm. That feels so good.”

He chuckles deeply, tilting my head back again to rinse the shampoo from my hair. He grabs conditioner next and works it into my hair. I’m surprised when the conditioner makes my scalp sting slightly, almost as if there was alcohol in it. It’s not a bad feeling though, and the initial burn is quickly replaced by an icy coldness, making me feel like my hair is more clean than it has ever been. When he washes the conditioner free, the intensity of the cold dulls until it’s just a pleasant tingle across my scalp.

He grabs a bar of soap next and works up a lather in his hands, eyeing me purposefully. “You got a little dirty in there, Kitten. I think I should clean you up.”

I grin. “You did make the mess.”

He chuckles. “Fair point.”

He starts at my collarbones, rubbing the soap carefully into my skin, eyes following his movements as if he’s transfixed. His hands rub circles of soap up from my collar bones to my shoulders and then they drift down, leaving trails of suds until he finds my breasts. He pauses long enough to get more soap, and then dives back into soaping my breasts. I blush when he makes it very clear his goal isn’t only to clean me, because he spends way more time than necessary massaging the soap into my chest, fingers dragging tantalizing paths of pleasure across my erect nipples.

His cock is fully hard again, and I can’t stop eating him up with my eyes from head to toe. My ass may still feel used and my body weak, but I still want more, except… I don’t know if he’s planning to have sex with me as my dom right now. The thought settles in my mind like poison, spreading through my body and dampening my arousal until it’s just a small ember. I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter, but it’s too late for that. I can already feel the old, familiar numbness settling in.

He eventually soaps the rest of my body, tickling me when his thumb plunges in my belly button and then silencing my giggles when he finds my mound and spends an excruciatingly long time cleaning my pussy and ass. Even though the way he’s touching me should have me gasping out of control, I have to force myself to increase my breathing. It feels wrong. Off. He hasn’t stripped control from me.

His hands start to move faster, and he starts to walk me toward the back wall, pressing my back into the slightly cold tiles. My chest heaves as he kisses my neck and mouth, then bends to suck my nipples hard enough to make me gasp. He straightens and lifts me by the thighs, guiding his cock into me. I’m still wet enough from before that his cock slides right in.

But as he starts to thrust into me almost tenderly, kissing my neck and breathing heavily, I feel a sense of panic build. It’s happening again. It’s like with all the men before. He’s trying to fuck me without any of the domination or submission and I don’t know if I’ll be able to cum like this. Yes, he’s the most breathtaking man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Yes, his cock is ridiculously perfect and I can feel it stretching my walls and reaching deeper inside me than I could imagine. But something isn’t right.

I wrap my arms around his neck, eyes open and face a mask as his breathing intensifies. I realize I’m going to have to pretend to cum, so I start making myself breathe heavier, moaning over his shoulder. I can see my blurry reflection in the mirror at the other end of the bathroom and the way my eyes look dead as I moan, the way my legs are wrapped behind his chiseled back, bouncing slightly with every thrust.

He groans, filling my pussy with cum, and I raise the pitch of my moans, doing my best to give the impression that I just came too. Logan slowly eases me down, smiling as he soaps his hands again and sets to cleaning my pussy.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after a few seconds.

“Yes. It’s perfect,” I say, hoping he doesn’t catch the note of strain in my voice.