"Put your hands on my arms, Madison. Hold on to me. Look in my face and know it's about way the hell more than restraints or commands."
She could barely think at this point, but she found some part of her able to latch on to the words as if they were the most important ones ever spoken to her, even as she wasn't in a frame of mind to analyze them. She jumped from rationality to faith in his arms, and knew no fear. At least not in this moment.
She lifted her chin as he stroked deep inside of her, bent to touch his lips to the line of her jaw. Sighing against his flesh, she gripped his incredible biceps. "I love the way you feel."
"Same goes."
The rhythm he set had her rising up to meet him, her teeth biting her lip, her legs locking over his hips, feeling the flex of his ass under her calves, the ripple of his thigh muscles under her ankles hooked over them. The friction of his chest hair against her nipples was just one searing pleasure among many. That feeling between her legs was growing even more concentrated, and she breathed his name against his skin, rearing up to bite his chest. One hand cupped her head, held her there. He braced their weights with one arm, increased the piston of his strokes. So close, so very close . . .
He plunged in deep, making her cry out, but then he stopped there, lodged to the hilt, and spoke against her hair. "Do you love me, Madison?"
He released his hold on her head, lowered it back to the pillow so that she saw him through the gray darkness of her bedroom, illumination provided by the light they'd left on over the hallway steps. She'd given up anticipating anything this man would say to her or ask of her, and this was no exception.
"I want to. I want you to love me . . . back."
His eyes softened then. He held them both on that cusp as her nails raked his shoulders, her hips working against his in tiny, insistent movements, but he pushed down, pinning them. "Ssshh. Be still, love. Be still. Calm down for me."
She stared at him, panting, but gradually, painstakingly, things slowed down, until it seemed they were balanced on some still point in the universe, where they had stopped as everything else passed around them. He waited until he saw her reach that still point with him.
"I will, Madison. I do. You understand me?"
She nodded. Tears trickled over her cheeks, probably baptizing his thumbs. "I want to love you, too, Logan. Really love you. My choice. I want to get there."
"Go over for me," he whispered. "Let me see it happen. Come for me, Madison."
This was the easiest thing of all, given that the stroke of his cock, his skill in rousing her beyond anything she'd ever experienced, took the choice out of her hands. She climaxed, cunt spasming over him, nails biting into his flesh, her body straining up in that crazed rigor during which the human body could do anything. He put his mouth on her sternum, right between her breasts, holding it there, continuing to pump into her body, work her to the full measure of her release.
Only when she was starting to come down did he speed up, seek his own finish. She held on for the ride, loving the feel of his body shuddering against hers, the male grunts of release and the heat of him searing her inside. She clung to him for all she was worth, tilting up her hips to give him back as much pleasure as he gave her. Though she wasn't sure that was possible, she would do her best to try.
When he at last stopped, brought them both to earth, he lowered himself so his weight held her down in a pleasurable way, then he propped some of it on an elbow, keeping his jaw against her temple. She held him to her, all her limbs still wound around him. It was perfection. If only the moment never had to stop.
But Logan was the type of man who kept a wheel turning. He wouldn't let her stop the ride for fear it would go in the wrong direction. And the next stop was going to be one of her deepest fantasies. The auction, the soldier . . .
He'd been helping her explore her submission fantasies all along, but with every step along the way, he'd also somehow kept the focus on the reality of their relationship as well. Like tonight. He would deliver on her fantasy, like a candy man delivering the most delicious chocolate, but what happened after?
"Stop thinking," he rumbled against her. "Just sleep with me. Find good dreams."
Leave it to him to order a woman to have good dreams. Her smile was a painful one, though. Did he understand how afraid she was of the other shoe dropping? How did a vessel that had been broken over and over withstand something as strong as his will? She knew her heart was safer on the shelf, not subjected to any undue stress on those cracks, but she hadn't yet been able to deny him.
As he turned them and tucked her against his body, she clasped his forearm, pressed under her breasts. Tightening her hold on him was a reflex, as natural as breathing. She sighed deeply, burrowed into him and prepared for sleep, making a quiet noise as he kissed her neck.
Closing her eyes, she hoped she'd find the best kind of dream in slumber. The one that would still be there when she woke up.
Read on for a special preview of the scorching final novella in Joey W. Hill's tantalizing Naughty Bits series
THE HIGHEST BID
Available July 2014 from InterMix
As the door to Naughty Bits opened, Gloria Estefan's "Wrapped" started up on the music system, the sultry intro earning a startled look from the woman who'd entered.
"It's like having your own theme music, announcing your arrival. Pretty cool, right?" Madison gave her newest customer a smile. She did it from a kneeling position, because she was working on her newest display. The antique lingerie chest, a piece she'd picked up cheap at a consignment store and re-finished with Logan's help, was perfect to display an array of lace panties, bras and corsets, draped over the half-opened drawers and hung on the knobs.
The woman offered her a tentative smile. She was middle-aged, with attractive auburn tinted hair and brown eyes. Her manicured nails and tailored clothing weren't polished enough to suggest executive management, but likely the strata that kept the wheels running in the office. Perhaps executive assistant. The type of person who would ask for what she needed, when she needed it.
It gave Madison a fleeting thought of herself, working as an investment manager all those years, polished up and always looking the same outside, no matter what might be brewing beneath the surface.
"If you need help with anything, just holler," Madison said, holding eye contact to tell the woman she meant it, not just a store employee offering a rote response to a customer.