Chapter 7
“We have a lot of ground to cover before we leave. We’ve made a good start, but we need to look at undercover work. I thought we could tackle that today.”
Lucy scooped up the last spoonful of breakfast cereal. Considering she’d had so little sleep, she felt surprisingly alert. “Is there a website for that, too?”
She hoped not. Having spent so much time on the computer for her BDSM research, she was ready for a change of scenery. One more session online, and she was sure her brain would dribble out of her nose and go permanently AWOL.
Logan gave her what she’d come to think of as his Dom look—not for the first time that morning—and skewered another forkful of bacon and scrambled eggs. For whatever reason, he’d been in a dark mood since she’d first laid eyes on him about an hour ago. He hadn’t actually behaved in an obnoxious manner towards her—if anything, he’d been stiffly polite. So much for the breakthrough she’d hoped their night-time run might have brought about.
She just about managed not to roll her eyes. “Is there a website for that, too, Sir?”
“There’s probably several, but I’m not risking you finding some idiot wannabe amateur’s best guess and assuming it’s true. Don’t get your knickers in a twist—we’re going to make it as easy for you as we can. We’re working up a new identity for you right now.”
This was the first Lucy had heard on the subject. “Why? I mean, what about my passport? How’s that going to work?”
“You’ll have a new one for the duration of our trip. The name’s close to your real name, and her past will for the most part mirror yours.”
“What about you?”
Breakfast finished, Logan pushed his plate to one side and took a healthy swig of coffee strong enough to dissolve a teaspoon. “I already have a legend.”
A legend was a false identity. All the unit’s field officers had at least one as part of their standard toolkit. “Is it really necessary? What if I get your name wrong and someone overhears?”
“Legends are usually close to your real name for that reason. As for being necessary, we won’t know for certain until we get there, and if we haven’t taken that precaution, it’s too late by then.”
He had a point. “So what should I call you? And from what you said, you already have a name for me. Who am I going to be?”
“For this assignment, I’m Lucan Simpson, but at the resort, it might be easier just to use ‘Sir’. No one’ll think anything odd about it there.”
Which she was already calling him—when she remembered, at any rate. Lucy managed a small, wry smile. “I guess I’d better start getting used to calling you that more often then, Sir.”
Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, but his expression seemed to relax a little.
“It’ll be okay, Lucy. It’s just a precaution. And if you do accidentally call me Logan, it’s close enough to Lucan for most people to assume they misheard.”
“I’ll do my best.” She gave a little chuckle. “It seems to me that you might have a harder job remembering whatever they’ve christened me. Not much sounds like Lucy.”
And now he was smiling. Thinking of all the times she’d seen him sporting an angry scowl at worst and a neutral brick wall of an expression at best, Lucy decided he should smile more often. Apart from anything else, it made him look more human and less like some sort of emotionally detached robot.
“It’s Lisa. Lisa White.”
Lisa. Lucy. Lucy wrinkled her nose. She didn’t exactly feel like a Lisa. “Sounds weird. We really have to use false names, Sir?”
“We don’t know what we’re walking into—we have to be prepared for a worst-case scenario.”
“Which is?”
“If there’s some sort of illegal activity going on. If it’s illegal enough, it could get us killed, although I think that’s unlikely.”
“Remind me never to come to you when I need cheering up!”
Okay, so her off-the-cuff remark was flippant rather than humorous, but the last thing Lucy expected was for the storm clouds to descend over Logan’s face once more, and in the process send a frozen dagger through her chest.
“That’s just it… Lisa. As my submissive, you come to me with any problems you might have. It’s my job to take care of you.”
Her hackles went up. “Is that Logan or Lucan talking?”
“Both.”
There was no way in hell Lucy could maintain eye contact, not with him looking so grim and determined. All of a sudden, she was way out of her depth, floundering in a sea of uncertainty as if the boundaries between real life and the roles they were assuming had blinked out of existence.
“Are you all right?”
The gentle enquiry enabled her to look at him again. The concern in his tone was mirrored in his face—almost as if he really cared.
“You look confused.”
Finally she found her voice. “That’s because I am. You… We…”
“Use your words, Lucy.”
Use her words? She was teetering on the edge of confessing her thoughts on exchanging their sham relationship for a real one, but with the man there in front of her, she was more apprehensive than ever.
No, regardless of what he’d just said, there was no way she was ready to open up to him and say it—We have to fake a relationship, but why don’t we have one for real, because I’m intrigued by the idea of submitting to you, and I want to experience it for real?
“It’s nothing.”
“Do you want to revise that answer?”
Over her dead and decaying corpse. “No.”
“Fine. Now that we’ve agreed your limits, you’ve just earned yourself a punishment for lack of communication.”
“What?” The screech sounded harsh, even to her own ears.
“Do I need to remind you? You agreed to discipline when we put the contract in place.”
They’d discussed the contract while strolling around the park, and put it together when they returned to Logan’s apartment. Her agreement was in her signature, right next to Logan’s.
“But… why?”
“I told you. Communication. You have to learn how important clear communication is. It’s vital in this lifestyle.”
She lashed out without thinking, more angry with herself than anything else. “I know that! I read all about it!”
“And I think now would be a good time to mention you’ve doubled it for challenging me. Submission 101—you trust your Dom to take care of you. That means you trust me to train you for this mission. In my bedroom now, and strip down to your underwear—and if you say one more word that isn’t ‘yes’ followed by ‘Sir’, you’ll treble it.”
Her knickers dissolved. How in the name of heaven could the knowledge that she was about to be spanked turn her on instantly? Lucy tried to remind herself that this man was the annoying, uncooperative arsehole from the office, and failed miserably. He wasn’t even the man whose kisses had made her want more—this was an implacable Dom who demanded obedience, and now she was going to pay the price for her insubordination.
The strangest thing happened. Somewhere, in the chaotic mass of her thoughts and feelings, clarity staked a claim. She might not be ready to vocalise her suggestion to change to a genuine relationship, but she was ready to act on it, even if Logan remained unaware of her true motivation.
“Yes, Sir.”
Judging by the way he then ignored her, in favour of picking up his coffee mug and the newspaper he’d set to one side before breakfast, he expected her to do as she was told.
Lucy lifted her chin and headed for her Dom’s bedroom. Anxiety gyrated like a crazed acrobat in her stomach. At the door, she glanced back at Logan. His relaxed posture—reading the paper, mug in hand—confirmed his expectations remained unchanged.
Unsure whether to close the door or not, she left it a little ajar. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers, she grasped the hem of her top, pulled it over her head and tossed it to one side. About to unfasten the button of her jeans, she looked again at the untidy heap on the floor of this immaculately tidy room. Her brothers, to a man, were obsessive about keeping things neat, and it looked as if Logan was the same. Had to be a military thing. Lucy swept up her top and folded it quickly, her jeans too. No sense in risking further punishment for sloppy housekeeping.
With nothing else to do but wait, Lucy sank to her knees, facing the door. Spine ramrod-straight, she rested her hands palm-up on her thighs and lowered her gaze while keeping her head straight and level. Submissive but not cowed.
The door swung open, arcing through the periphery of her field of vision, followed by long legs encased in black jeans, and boots that were plain and well-worn but clearly of quality.
“Well done, princess. Now stand up for me.”
With as much grace as she could muster, Lucy obeyed. As Logan circled her, without speaking to her or touching her, the vestiges of her inner conflict fell silent, no match for the sense of serene certainty emanating from the powerful man into whose hands she’d placed herself.
And along with that serenity there was security, too. Without words, Logan was sending her a message—to have confidence in him, to have faith that whatever he did, no harm would come to her.
“Come with me.”
She placed her hand in his, and he led her to the bed. He sat down, and with the smallest of gestures, conveyed precisely what he wanted from her. She arranged herself face down over his lap, and all thoughts about her imminent chastisement evaporated at the sensation of hard thighs supporting her abdomen. There was nothing soft about Logan Simmonds, nothing at all.
“Do you know why you’re in this position, Lucy?”
“Yes, Sir. I didn’t answer you properly.”
“Close enough. Sometimes, a Dom will spank his sub for their mutual pleasure. This, as you know, is for punishment, and different rules apply. Now—how many times do you think I should spank you?”
He wasn’t going to catch her out with that question—she was prepared for it. She’d read the books. “Whatever you think appropriate, Sir.”
“Good answer.”
Even so, the first swat still caught her by surprise. Afraid she’d topple from Logan’s lap, she made grab for the nearest stable object, which happened to be his lower leg. The distraction took her mind away from the impact of his hand on her behind, but she wasn’t so lucky for the next one. It landed on the other cheek with a crack like a gunshot. Her breath hissed—it smarted, but sounded worse than it felt. She could deal with this.
The next hit the spot right at the top of her thigh—and that one damn well did hurt. A colourful curse escaped before she could stop it.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Nothing, Sir. Yeow!”
Shit! That one had been extra hard. Lucy knew exactly why it had been extra hard, too. “I’m sorry, Sir.” She forced the apology out through teeth clenched in… not exactly pain, more like acute discomfort.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I swore, and I wasn’t honest about it. Sir.”
“You’re learning.”
“Honesty and clear communication at all times. Got it, Sir.”
“Good, because I need to know I can trust you, both in a scene and on the mission.”
“In a scene, Sir?”
“I need to trust that you’ll give me your safeword if you need to. A Dom might set out to test his sub, but he’ll never—never—break her. He’ll cherish her and protect her, but never allow her to come to harm. I need to have confidence that you’ll safeword if I’m pushing you too far. Understand?”
“I understand, Sir, and you can trust me.”
“Good. Now how about if we finish this, and move onto to more pleasant things?”
The remaining spanks were swift and unrelenting. An even dozen in all, administered with ruthless efficiency. At the end, Lucy swore she’d never be able to sit down properly again.
Firm hands manoeuvred her into an upright position. Almost without thinking, she knelt in front of Logan, trying not to aggravate the tender, punished flesh by sitting too quickly on her heels.
“Good girl.”
Dear lord, she was so unprepared for what those two little words did to her.
“Come here.”
“What? What are you doing?”
Caught up in sensation, Lucy hadn’t realised that the man at the centre of them was no longer seated in front of her, but was crouching beside her, with his arms moving into place to pick her up. He also no longer looked like the stern, unbending Dom who’d just spanked her hard enough to ensure she wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for at least an hour.
“I need to make sure you’re all right. Lift up.”
“Doesn’t that counter the effectiveness of the punishment, Sir?” Even as she asked the question, Lucy rose to her knees and allowed Logan to take her in his arms.
“True—if we were in a real, established D/s relationship. Think of this as a demonstration with purpose. If you were mine, do you think you’d have learned your lesson?”
If she were his… Do not go there. “Yes, Sir.”
“Then we’ve achieved our objective. You’ve learned what a punishment feels like now, you don’t need to suffer it in full. In spite of what you might think about me, I’m no sadist.”
His gaze was steady as he looked at her, as if it were important to him that she believe him. The prolonged contact was drawing her in, body and soul, adding a layer of emotion to her desire to experience this for real. Something out of the ordinary was going on, more than just basic attraction that could be satisfied with a roll in the hay.
His mouth was fascinating. She needed a closer look, but as she drew nearer, a look wouldn’t be nearly enough. A taste, just a taste, a sip from his lips, no harm, no foul…
~~*~~
Her mouth caressed his, and his body sent up a signal flare.
This. This siren call he could barely resist was the reason he no longer assumed any responsibility for a submissive outside Aegis. He was incapable of anything other than topping at the club, in carefully negotiated scenes where there was no room for assumption or misunderstanding.
And where a sweet armful of sub wouldn’t be looking at him the way Lucy was right now—flushed and glowing, with the taste of him lingering on her lips as the taste of her haunted his. She didn’t belong to him, but in spite of all his good intentions, it was getting so hard… so hard… to remember that.
The memory of pale skin cold to the touch, blue lips, water tainted red, should have made it easier.
“Are you sure you’re not a sadist?”
Her tone teased him out of the darkness in danger of engulfing him. “Not the last time I checked,” he murmured, as he carried her out of his bedroom and into hers, where he deposited her with care on the bed.
She frowned and shifted awkwardly. The bed linen was probably a little rough on her sensitised skin.
“You might find it easier to lie on your stomach.”
She rolled her eyes as if he’d stated the obvious—which he had, but sometimes it had to be done.
“I might find it easier still to get dressed!” She started to swing her legs off the bed, but stopped before her feet connected with the floor. “Assuming I have your permission to get my clothes?”
“That’s ‘Assuming I have your permission to get my clothes, Sir?’, to which the answer is, ‘No, you do not have my permission.’ Stay there, and turn over.”
“Why?”
Stubborn woman. He chose to ignore the challenge to his authority this time. “Because your Dom said so.”
Logan shoved the thought of truly being her Dom—and any associated emotional connection—to one side. He wasn’t that and never could be.
Lucy’s clothes were in a neat pile on the chair, but they weren’t the only reason Logan had gone back to his bedroom. He wanted his toy bag, for the care kit he always kept handy. If this had been for real, he’d have left the sub to think about why she’d received a punishment, but this was more of a show-and-tell.
When he returned, it was to see Lucy lying face down, with her head pillowed on her arms. Logan deposited her garments on the chest of drawers.
The sight of a beautiful young woman lying so trustingly on a bed was a roundhouse punch that blindsided him. Memories threatened to choke him, a whole rush of them pounding at him, as if trying to break him into a million remorseful fragments of the man he’d once been. Sophia had lain like that, waiting for him to join her so they could both enjoy the marks she loved him leaving on her body. Soft murmurs of pleasure had whispered from her lips when he’d traced the lines with his fingertips—words unnecessary, because of the connection forged between their souls.
At least, that was what he’d believed, and he’d been wrong. So fucking wrong—if that connection had truly existed, surely he’d have known what was going on with her? She’d paid a terrible price for his oversight. He couldn’t allow himself to get involved with anyone else like that again, no matter what his body wanted from the woman before him.
“Lucy, I’ve got some cream to help with the sting. Try to relax.”
If she’d been a work of art draped over his lap, what he saw now was a priceless treasure. Thank God for the mission—it was the lifeline that would save his sanity.
“Lift your hips.”
With the pillow beneath her pelvis for support, her lush curves, beautifully enhanced by ivory lace, drew his attention. He braced himself for her reaction, and hooked his fingers in the elastic of her knickers.
About as bad as he anticipated. She skittered away from him as if he’d burned her, to sit on the other pillows with her legs tucked under her, doing her very best not to wince. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. They have to come off so I can put this cream on all the bits that sting. And you wouldn’t want them to get stained, would you? Think of this as a little role-play.”
“What? You’re the doctor and I’m the patient?”
“If it helps.” There were worse games. “There’s a place for modesty, but it’s not in a D/s relationship. It’s all about intimacy, communication and trust. When I say intimacy, I don’t just mean physical intimacy, either—it’s about letting someone know you mentally and emotionally, as well. Letting them inside you deep enough to see the places even you hide from.”
“That sounds scary.”
Logan conceded she had a point. Perhaps a more pragmatic approach would help. “Okay then. I’ve been active in the lifestyle for more than long enough to have scened with subs of all ages, shapes and sizes. To put it bluntly, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen or spanked before.”
The wide-eyed look she gave him was priceless. Her mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to say something. She made a cute guppy. The stand-off lasted half a dozen more seconds, but then she resumed her previous position without any further comment.
Which left him faced once again with the most perfectly rounded apple of an arse he’d ever laid eyes on. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible, before he openly disgraced himself.
The things he did for Queen and country. Per Mare, Per Terram, Per whatever the hell the Latin was for “bedroom”.
To Lucy’s credit, she barely flinched when he touched her this time, although tension fairly sizzled from her skin. In another time, with another woman, a situation like this would probably have ultimately led to a mutually satisfying, emotion-free fuck. In this time, with this woman, a huge red warning light was flashing in his mind. He could guarantee the satisfaction, but keeping emotion out of it might prove to be a challenge too far.
His perception of his CO’s assistant was undergoing a seismic shift. Her silken skin beneath his fingertips was only part of the picture. Her courage, her strength of character, and her hidden depths were also formidable weapons, and a challenge to every one of his defences.
Images exploded like a barrage of grenades, a deadly string of fantasies that could never become reality. She’d never allow him to gather her hair to one side, to grant him access to kiss the alluring sweep of her shoulder before he unclipped her bra. He’d never get to trail kisses down her spine before turning her over, settling between her thighs and easing his cock inside her. He’d never get to feel her come around him, see her fly from an orgasmic peak and land safely in his arms.
And he’d never get to fill her with his come, knowing she belonged to him and him alone.
Reality more corrosive than acid gutted him with ruthless efficiency. He had to ignore the ever-strengthening urge to kiss the life out of her and never stop. That privilege wasn’t for a bastard like him.
“Good girl.” The words crawled up from his balls and nearly choked him. “Stay put and let the cream do its job. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get you something to drink.”
The kettle boiled all too quickly. Making tea should have taken longer, given him more of a chance to regain his peace of mind. He didn’t like the woman, she was going to a pain in the arse on the mission… who the hell was he trying to kid? Neither of those statements washed anymore—if they ever truly had.
He opened the bedroom door in time to see Lucy rolling to her side. The sight of her lush breasts cradled by more ivory lace smacked him around the head and made his stupid dick stand to attention again. He held out the mug.
“Thank you.” She sipped the tea, without moving her gaze from him. “Mm, that’s lovely. I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Logan parked himself on the chair a few feet from the bed and leaned forward, hands clasped, with his forearms resting on his thighs.
“Not trusting you and arguing with you.”
An apology was the last thing he expected from her, especially after he’d blistered her butt. “Your attitude could have put your safety at risk.”
“I see that now. I also see that you only used the measures we agreed to… show me the error of my ways.”
“You could put it like that. But… it’s done. Put it behind you. I have.”
Her eyes widened. The vibe he was getting was a blend of disbelief and amazement. Logan felt compelled to find out why. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
“What?”
“Why you’re afraid I haven’t put your mistake behind me.”
She broke eye contact then, and he could almost see her dredging up the courage to confront whatever demon was responsible for her fear.
“Based on personal experience, it’s human nature to hold a grudge, remind someone constantly of their mistakes.”
“Ex-boyfriend?”
She nodded. Wariness haunted her gaze when it meshed with his again. “One of his less endearing traits was a habit of reminding me of my shortcomings as a girlfriend. As a human being in general, come to that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to relationships, probably always will, but he was the worst. He has to be, because heaven help me if I ever find one worse than him.”
The honesty he’d demanded from her slapped him around the back of the head. Seeing her so wounded and vulnerable made his hands into bone-snapping fists, a sure sign he was ready to punch the unidentified piece of shit who’d done this to her into the middle of the next century, if the scumbag ever crossed his path.
“Doesn’t happen in a D/s relationship—none I’ve ever had, anyway. We deal with a situation, and it’s done. Maybe next time you should give vanilla a miss and try something else.”
Her lips quirked in a mischievous grin—it matched the alluring twinkle in her eyes. “Any recommendations?” She sipped her tea again.
Sure—me.
Where in fuck had that come from? He really needed to get his shit together. “Tell me why you volunteered for this. You’re a secretary—why in God’s name would you want to go into the field?”
Something about the subtle change in her expression set tendrils of unease writhing in his gut. Something else told him, if he was going to be around this woman for any length of time, he’d better start getting used to it.
“It’s a bit of a long story—sure you want to hear it?”
“I’m sure. Tell me.”
“When I was growing up, I had no idea what I wanted to do when I left school, unlike most of my friends. I used to listen to the boys’ war stories when they were home on leave, but with the four of them serving, and Mum waiting so long for me to come along, I sort of felt I should choose a more… girly job. So instead of joining up, I nagged them into teaching me all they could.
“I tried a few different office jobs before I fell into being a secretary—that particular boss didn’t want what he called a ‘traditional’ secretary. When Adam started talking about the unit and his plans to apply when he finishes his time in the Army, that was it. It finally made sense of all the pestering I’d done.”
She drank some more tea, as if fortifying herself to continue the story. Then she shot him a frown. “Sorry, I’m sure this is really boring.”
“Not in the least. I’d like to hear the rest.”
“There’s not much more. I looked into it, and found out about the requirement for military experience. Even if I didn’t have Mum to consider, I still didn’t have the patience to join up and serve long enough to acquire it. Doesn’t mean I don’t have suitable skills, though.”
“Suitable skills? You intending to spell-check the enemy to death?” He suppressed a smile at the way Lucy appeared to be weighing up whether or not to throw the mug at him.
“My brothers, remember? Adam got me fit, and then there’s everything else all the others have taught me—still are teaching me, when they can.”
“All the others? How many brothers do you have?” She almost made it sound as if they were an army in their own right.
“Including Adam—four. And they’re all on active service. Adam’s Army, like I said. Ben and James are Royal Marines Commandos, and Sam’s in the Royal Navy.”
All of a sudden, Logan experienced a crystal-clear vision of where this conversation was headed. “What exactly have you learned from them?”
“Ben—Adam’s twin—taught me hand-to-hand combat, including how to fight dirty if I have to. And when he comes home on leave, he makes a point of ensuring I haven’t forgotten any of it. Sam and James are the other set of twins. James is an expert in firearms, and he also makes sure I keep my skills sharp.”
“Okay. What about Sam?” Logan was swiftly coming to the conclusion that the Winter boys were a bunch of badasses he’d welcome on his side in any conflict, even the ones who weren’t Royals. And two sets of twin brothers? Mama Winter had to be a force to be reckoned with as well, keeping that lot in line. Probably explained where Lucy got it from.
“He’s a medic. He’s taught me how to deal with pretty much any injury you’re likely to encounter in a battle situation. I may not be quite the full-on expert they are, but what I lack in depth, I make up for, at least in part, in breadth.”
“I know you mentioned this to Sir Guy, but does he know the details?”
“Not as far as I know, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he did.”
Logan agreed. Sometimes, the old man seemed to have an almost supernatural way of finding things out. Either way, it looked as if his plans for the firing range and the self-defence session would have to adapt to this new information.
“I can show you what I can do, if you like, and if we have time?”
In a race between common sense and his instinct to protect, common sense won by a nose. Even though he balked at the idea of relying on her in a crisis, should one arise, it was only sensible to acquaint himself with her capabilities.
“We have time. So, how’d you end up working for Sir Guy?”
“A ridiculous amount of luck was involved. I joined the civil service and job-hopped my way into the right area. The vacancy as Sir Guy’s PA came up, and I applied. Figured I’d bide my time and grab the first opportunity I could to prove I have something more to offer the unit—didn’t expect anything like this.
“I want to make one thing clear, though. The priority is getting Diana back. My goals come a long way after that.”
“What if it doesn’t work out the way you want?” With luck, it wouldn’t, because with luck, they wouldn’t be in a situation that called for those skills, and she could go back to a nice, safe position.
“Then I go back to my old job and find a different way to make a difference. I can do this, Logan. I know you all think I’m a control-freak pen-pusher, but please don’t let that blind you to what I’m capable of. Let me prove I can be more useful to you than just as a smokescreen.”