Linger (17 page)

Luca looked at him like a Dom would a sub, and despite every fiber of his being fighting the notion, Logan found his submissive training taking over.

His eyes went to the floor and he shut his mouth, though what he really wanted to do was slam the door in the other sub's face.

“That's better.” Luca gestured to Bren, who stepped through the door quietly—always the perfect sub, Logan thought on an inner sneer.

Then Luca tapped him under the chin, sharply enough to hurt, forcing Logan to look him in the eye. “Your mistress says that you have a decent pain tolerance. But I feel compelled to remind you that you've never been under my whip.”

Luca swept into the house, Bren following behind him. And Logan realized that, for the first time since he'd entered the lifestyle, he might have been maneuvered in over his head.

S
carlett kept a close eye on her submissive as she met Luca in the front entryway and proceeded to guide him into the dining room. Earlier that day she had set the table with a deep red tablecloth, a vase of wildflowers that she'd pulled from the fields behind the ranch, and fat white pillar candles that scented the air with sandalwood and candle wax.

She had intended for the setting to lend an air of formality to the evening, and if the others were feeling at all like she was, then she'd succeeded.

At ease in any situation, Luca followed her to the dining room table, sat in the hard-backed chair, and made himself comfortable. When he pulled Bren to him by the collar of his shirt, speaking in low tones that Scarlett couldn't hear, she knew that he was giving Bren his orders.

She was surprised and not entirely happy to see the other sub . . . but not, she saw, nearly as surprised or unhappy as Logan.

The longer she watched Logan, the more clear it became that his agitation stemmed from something deeper than jealousy or possessiveness.

At his heart Logan was an alpha male, wired to protect what was his, and now outsiders had invaded his home. It didn't take much of a leap of logic for her to realize that he thought of it as his sanctuary.

Despite the glares he shot Bren when he thought she
wasn't looking, she felt he was conducting himself quite well, considering. And Luca had helped her to position Logan right where she wanted him—on the edge and uncomfortable.

After their tender moment in the kitchen, she felt like they were so very close to a breakthrough, one that would bond them together more tightly. And yet weariness arrowed through her body at all of the maneuvering she was doing to bring him to that edge.

She simply didn't know what else to do, and she wanted him so badly that it made her ache. If she'd had even the faintest sense that he didn't feel the same way, she would have walked away.

But what was between them could be beautiful. It already was.

But it could still be more.

“Thanks for having us, Mistress Scarlett.” Luca grinned at her as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “That title sounds good.”

“Feels good, too. Most of the time.” She directed the last at Logan, who started, then looked plain old pissed off at her comment.

She felt a twinge of guilt, but swallowed it away. If they were bickering, as they so often did, he wouldn't be focused on feeling like his home had been violated.

“Bren, Mistress Scarlett says that she has dinner ready in the kitchen. You will be serving it to us this evening.” Luca didn't look at the other sub as he spoke. Instead his manner was that of someone who knew he would be obeyed.

Scarlett noticed that Bren cast a look in her direction before following Luca's directive, an odd hesitation for a submissive of his discipline.

“I've never seen you choose a male sub before.” Scarlett had seen Luca top men in demonstrations at the club, in
training, and even when a submissive had expressed a desire to live out a certain fantasy. But she knew Luca well—better than most. And her massive, overly charming Dom of a best friend was all about the ladies.
All
of the ladies.

Luca seemed to consider her comment as he carelessly handed a bottle of wine to Logan. Scarlett felt a quiet glow start in her chest when, though it was obvious that Luca wanted Logan to pour them each a glass, her sub looked to her for permission first.

She nodded, and though Logan scowled at Luca—making her bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing—he moved to the sideboard and retrieved glasses.

“I'm not averse to the idea, though you're right. I usually prefer women. But when Bren found out I was coming to visit you, he begged to be allowed the privilege of accompanying me,” Luca finally said, holding out a hand for the wine that Logan had poured and brought back.

At Luca's explanation, Logan's hand tightened on the fragile stem of the wineglass, fingers clenching to the point that Scarlett worried it might snap and slice through his palm.

But Luca goaded Logan further, playing him into the hands of a Master.

Instead of sipping at the wine, Luca smirked up at Logan. “Take a sip, sub. I'd like to see how much of the information Alex and Elijah shoved down your throat so many years ago has stuck. If you can identify the type of wine, then you may go sit at your Mistress's feet.”

Scarlett had to lift her own glass to her lips quickly to cover the laughter that threatened when she saw the strangled expression cross Logan's face. For a moment she would have put money on Logan dumping the liquid over his friend's head rather than sipping it.

But though he didn't look happy about it, he did as Luca had commanded. Slowly.

“I do believe that this effervescent beverage is a merlot, Sir.” His voice dripped with exaggerated politeness, and Scarlett sucked quickly at the wine in her glass to hold back her laugh.

She'd known it would be tough for Logan to play the submissive in the presence of his friend. And he was behaving far better than she'd anticipated.

Which meant he was getting comfortable. Time to switch things up.

When Bren came back into the room, now entirely naked, a platter balanced on each hand, a wicked idea crossed Scarlett's mind.

“Master Luca, I see that you've commanded your sub to strip.” Scarlett stretched lazily in her own chair, gesturing Bren to place the serving dishes on the table. “You know, my submissive is a competitive creature. An alpha in every area but the bedroom.”

“I can see that.” Luca grinned, and Scarlett knew that he was enjoying his friend's discomfort, a true sadist to the bone. “We'd best fix that, then.”

Smiling, though her heart was pounding, Scarlett turned to face Logan, who was still standing beside Luca. “Strip.”

Logan was already almost naked, that little set of brief black shorts the only thing protecting his modesty. But there was a massive difference between being allowed a few scraps of clothing and none at all, and Scarlett knew that.

Knew it and used it to her advantage.

“I said, strip.” A streak of meanness entered her voice. Logan glared at her, his hands fisting at his sides.

“Like hell I will.”

She supposed she could consider it an improvement that he was simply refusing, rather than making lewd suggestions about them going somewhere so he could get naked for her
privately. But as she watched the struggle pass over his features, she wondered, not for the first time, if Logan was even capable of using his safe word.

It was time to stop thinking things through so much, to go with her gut. So she pushed further.

“You will, or you won't like the consequences.” She paused to let the words sink in.

Logan's jaw worked as his entire body tensed. Finally, he shoved his shorts down over his hips, let them fall to the floor. When they reached his ankles, he kicked them in the general direction of Bren, who was still standing quietly by the table.

“That's better.” Smiling teasingly, she reached over to take Luca's hand. Linked fingers with him—a joining of equals.

Logan's body quivered, as though he was trying to restrain his rage. He managed to stay still but couldn't quite hold back his frown.

Alpha in so many other aspects of his life, Logan had a hard time accepting anyone else's claim on her, even one as simple as friendship. His response thrilled her to her soul.

But Scarlett cast him a reproving glare. “I will touch whomever I choose, sub. Mind your manners, or I'll gag you.”

Though he glared, Logan did as she said, closing his mouth.

“Very nice.” Imperiously, Scarlett gestured to him. “Come here.”

After stiffly stalking to where she sat, Logan knelt at her side. She saw the emotion and confusion on his face and hoped she wasn't pushing him too far.

They were on the edge—the edge of something. She just wished she could be certain that pushing them to fall was the right thing to do.

At Luca's command, the subs served up two plates of food. Scarlett had prepared a selection of simple finger foods—
something that she'd been able to throw together after work that day, ones that could be hand-fed to a sub without becoming too messy. Bren had lined her plate with wedges of toast and soft cheese, crackers and pâté, slices of ripe strawberry and juicy melon, all things that she'd driven twenty minutes into town to purchase at the surprisingly well-stocked little grocery store.

Nibbling on bruschetta and melon, she fed Logan small bites more often than she bothered to take them herself. She had been certain that he would balk at eating his meal from her hand.

But while he still vibrated with tension, glaring at Bren every so often, he seemed content enough so long as her attention was focused on him. And when he brushed a hand over her ankle, a small sign of affection, her stomach pulled tight with a needy tangle of feelings.

“You've behaved very well, sub.” The meal finished, Luca reached for Scarlett's hand, unifying them as the Dominants in the room. Tilting Bren's chin up with the toe of his boot, he nodded, his expression pleased. Scarlett tilted her head to one side, observing the pair of them . . . Something was off in their dynamic, just a bit.

“Thank you, Sir.” Bren looked up at Luca, but his eyes strayed for a second—just a second—to
her
, and she saw what it was.

She'd never seen Bren anything but utterly focused on his Dominant. But though he had still been far more disciplined tonight than most of the submissives she'd ever come across, his attention was being drawn elsewhere.

To her.

In a rush she saw what was about to happen and swallowed down the words that rushed to her lips.

“I think you deserve a reward, slave.” Luca grinned fiendishly over at Scarlett, and her heart sank.

“You're stirring the fucking pot! Stop it!” she hissed to him, but it was too late.

Bren turned his attention to her, inclined his head gracefully. Against her leg, she could feel Logan tense.

“If Sir permits it, I would like to serve Mistress Scarlett. However she will have me.” Bren's eyes flashed with desire, and though she tried to control her facial expression, Scarlett felt her lips part with shock.

This
—she would never have expected this from mild-mannered Bren. He had expressed interest in her before, yes, but she'd always thought that he was the kind of submissive who simply obtained pleasure from serving his Master or Mistress—whoever that Master or Mistress was.

Frantically trying to phrase a response, Scarlett felt the tension in Logan's body, still leaning against her leg, pulling tighter and tighter. Finally, his self-control seemed to snap, and he jumped like an attack dog on a chain.

“Hell no,” Logan whispered, but in the sudden silence of the room, it sounded like a shout. “You don't touch her. You don't ever touch her.”

Heat spread throughout Scarlett's midsection as realization washed over her.

This
was exactly what she'd been searching for, a man who might let her lead in the bedroom, but who was strong enough to stand up for what he wanted without her.

A man like Logan. No, not even
like
Logan—just him.

Only him.

The realization hit her like a sledgehammer—she loved him.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she struggled to focus. She was trying to accomplish something big with him tonight.

But at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to send Luca and Bren on their way and to lose herself in Logan.

Focus, Scar.
Discipline—he needed some, or he was doing them both a disservice.

He wasn't fully submitting to her. And neither of them would be happy—
could
be happy—until he did.

“Sit down,” she told him quietly.

He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “You can't be serious.”

Shifting in her chair, Scarlett placed one booted foot delicately in his naked lap. She didn't press—she didn't have to.

He flinched, but when he sat tall despite the threat, she was proud.

“You do not accept me as your Mistress, so you do not get a say.” She felt a pang as she spoke, but her gut told her that this was the right thing to do.

“The hell I don't.” Logan ground out the words, but she saw the flicker in his eyes, the hint of confusion.

It almost killed her to turn away from him, but she did. Luca caught her gaze and nodded slightly, the movement almost imperceptible.

She needed to get control over her hormones, because this was the perfect moment to push Logan further, to break him down.

“Follow me.” She didn't look at Logan as she spoke, instead pushing away from the table.

Logan started to climb to his feet, and she froze him in place with one steely-eyed stare.

“On your knees.” She licked her tongue out over her suddenly dry lips. “Subs who don't show proper respect don't get to stand tall.”

From the corner of her eye, Scarlett saw Luca nod in approval, and her confidence grew. Sauntering across the room with no set plan in mind, she led Logan to the padded bench that Luca had had Bren bring in from his car earlier.

Logan clenched his jaw when she gestured for him to
climb up on the bench, but to her pleasure, he did it without comment.

“Very nice.” She spoke quietly as she arranged him on his front, then knelt down in front of him. Starting at midthigh, she slid her hands down his legs to his ankles, her fingers making tiny circles over the solid expanse of his flesh.

“I'm going to secure your ankles to the bench.” Scarlett massaged the sensitive skin of his instep lightly. Her heart thudded rapidly, knocking against her rib cage so hard that she thought it just might bruise. “And then I will bind your hands behind your back. What color are we at?”