“You’remine,”Isay.“Butyouknowthatalready,don’tyou?”
Shemoanssoftly,archingherbackandpushingherselftowardmeimploringly.
Ismirk,wantingnothingmorethantoplungemyrockhardcockintoherwarmth,butthatwouldbetoo

easy.Shehasbeenhidingsomethingfromme.I’vebeenseeingthesignsforweeksnow,andI’vegiven
herlongenoughtotellmeonherown.

“You don’t get to keep secrets from me,” I say, lowering my voice. I pull the paddle back and she

tenses.Ibringitdown.Whack!Shejolts,suckinginabreathandlettingitoutslowlywithanothersoft
moan.Abrightredcircleformsonherass.Beautiful.Icaresstheheatedmark,baskinginherresponseto
my touch. My voice is a whisper in her ear. “It’s your choice. Tell me now and I’ll give you what you
cameherefor.Oryoucankeephidingthetruthfrommeandwe’llstarteverysessionthisway.”

She turns her head slightly. I can see just the tip of her pert nose and her long eyelashes. “I’m not

hidinganything,Sir,”shesays.There’satoneofdefianceinhervoicethatmakesmeclenchmyteethand
gripthepaddletighter.Sheturnsherheadtolooktowardthewallagain,clutchingthesheetstighterinher
fiststobraceforthepaddle.

Ismirk.Finebyme.Shecandragthisoutaslongasshelikes,butI’llgetwhatIwantintheend.I

alwaysdo.

“M

LOGAN

Twoweeksearlier

r.Steel?”asksahesitantvoice.

Ilookuptoseemynewsecretarypokingherheadintomyoffice.Igestureroughlyforherto

hurryupandcomein.Shestraightensherskirtandnoisilycrossesthedistancetomydesk.Click. Click.
Click.Hercreamcoloredheelslookuncomfortable,andthere’snowaythetightpencilskirtshewears
isn’t cutting off her circulation. She sets the file on my desk, making sure to lean forward enough that I
couldhaveaneyefulofhercleavageifIwanted.

ButI’mnotinthemood.She’snotmytype,forstarters,andthelastthingIneedrightnowistoget

entangledinanotherrelationshipthatcouldhurttheimageofmycompany.I’vespenttoolongtryingtofix
the public’s opinion of me to throw it away now. A few years ago I might have taken her up on her
obviousoffer,addingfueltothepublic’sopinionofmeasaplayboybillionaire.Iwasyoung,successful,
filthyrich…andfilthybetweenthesheets.

Eventually,mybusinesspartnersstartedtowonderifIwastakingthecompanyseriously.Thefuckers

triedtomaneuverbehindmybacktotakemyowncompanyoutfromunderme.Theirmistake.Ileftevery
lastoneoftheminfinancialruin.Nomercy.Noregrets.

Now, I trust very few people. There’s my little sister, and my business partner, Dean. That’s it.

EveryoneelsecangofuckthemselvesasfarasI’mconcerned.

“Sir?”
ThesecretaryhasworkedherwayaroundthesideofmydeskandIcansmellherperfume.It’snice,

butshe’swearingtoomuch.She’stryingtoohard,andIcanpracticallyhearherheartthunderinginher
chest.

Isnatchthethickenvelopefromherhandsandletitfloploudlyinfrontofme.Itemplemyfingersin

front of my forehead, breathing out my frustration. It’s not her. It’s this week. Hell, it’s this year. My
patiencehasbeenpushedtoofar.Icanfeelmyselfonthevergeofsnapping.“That’sall,”Isay,forcinga
calmnessintomyvoicethatIdon’tfeel.

Iturninmychair,lookingoutthefloortoceilingwindowsliningthebackwallofmyoffice.Theview

should be beautiful. I can see the entire city laid out before me. From up here on the 92nd floor, I can
imagineit’sallmine.Infact,alotofitismine, but the realization brings none of the pride I thought it
wouldwhileIwasfightingandclawingmywaytothetop.ForaslongasIcanremember,strivingfor
morewasenough.Itwaswhatgotmeoutofbedinthemorningandwhathelpedmefallasleepatnight.I

knewIattackedeverydaywithanintensitymostmencanonlydreamof,andIknewnoonewasbetterat
thisthanme.

Iheartheclickofmysecretary’sheelsandthedoorclosinggentlybehindher.
I huff a humorless laugh as I turn back to my office, taking in the opulence on display. “Living the

fuckingdream,”ImuttertomyselfdrylyasIopenthemanillaenvelopethesecretarybrought.Ionlyneed
toreadthefirstfewwordsonthethickpackettoknowwhatitis.Moreofmyex-wife’sbullshit.Iscan
throughthefirstpageandrealizeshe’stryingtogetmoneyoutofmeagain.IguessthelastcheckIcuther
hasdriedupalready.

Iflipthroughthepagesofthedocument,knucklesturningwhiteasIunconsciouslygripthearmrestof

mychair.Thelineskeepreferringto“theNewburyfamily”aspotentialrecipientsofthemoneytheyare
seeking.Family.WhenIthinkofwhatshedidtome,myreputation,andmostofalltoourunbornson…
Fuck.It’snowonderIhaveangerissues.Islidethepackettotheside,makingamentalnotetodealwithit
later.

It’snotlikemetoputsomethingoff,buttodaywouldhavebeenhisbirthday,ifshehadn’t…
Isigh,shakingmyhead.Itfiguresshewouldserveupsomebullshitlikethistodayofalldays.Istand

from my desk, sliding my arms into my jacket and adjusting my tie. I make my way through the empty
office. Everyone else has gone home for the night. I’ve always been last to leave. Some might call it a
pointofpride,butit’sjusthowIoperate.IhavealwaysoutworkedeverylastfuckingpersonI’vemet.
Nobodyputsinmorehoursormoreeffortthanme.That’swhyIamwhereIam.Itakemydreamsbythe
fucking throat and beat them into submission. Maybe that’s why I don’t like the way they look when I
finallyreachthem.

Ihaveamissedcallfrommysister,soIcallherbackasIpassthroughthedarkenedoffice.Shepicks

upastheelevatordingsandIstepinside.

“Hey,loser,”shedrones.
Ismirk.Nothinglikemysister’sperpetuallysarcasticanddrypersonalitytocheermeup.“Whatis

it?”Iask.

“Oh,Ijustwasn’tfeelingdepressedenoughsoIdecidedtocallyou.Icanalwayscountonyoufor

badnews.”

Iraisemyeyebrows,onlyslightlysurprisedthatmysister’sintuitionissoaccurate.“Lanaistryingto

getthreemiloutofmethistime.”

“Shit,”saysOlivia.Shehasatalentforcursing.Shedrawsouttheword,twistingitaroundhermouth

so it sounds like the most filthy and black thing ever to pass through a human’s lips. I can practically
pictureherballingherfists,wantingtohitLana.I’mnottheonlyoneinthefamilywithaquicktemper,
andthethoughtmakesmegrin.

“Before you ask,” I say, stepping into the lobby on the ground floor. “I’m still not giving you her

address.ThelastthingIneedishermurderonmyconscience.”

“Youcanaffordanylawyeryouwant.Justsuetheshitoutofherforachange,Logan.”
“Yeah,” I say sarcastically, “And give her the excuse she has been waiting for to take her bullshit

publicandruinme?I’llpass.”

Oliviasighsheavily.“Bullshitistherightword.Iknowyouwouldneverdoanyofthatshitshesaid

youdid.Lethertrytolieaboutit.Thetruthwillcomeout.”

“Right,”Isaydistractedly.Iknowmylittlesisterjustwantstohelp,butIstillhavetomeetDeanandI

havealongnightaheadofme.“Look,Ineedtogo.I’lltalktoyoulater.”

“Asshole,”shesays,butIcanpicturehercrookedsmileasshesaysitandhangsup.
Istepoutsidetoagustofwind.ThecoldNovemberairbitesstraightthroughmysuitcoatanddress

shirt,butitfitsmymoodjustfine.Afewyearsago,thiswouldhavebeenthekindofmoodthatsentme
prowling for a woman to slake my thirst. I would’ve buried myself in her for the night, teasing out her

everyneedanddesire,bringingittolife.Dominatingher.ThenLanahappened.

ImetherataBDSMclubandwehadahealthysexlife.Wehadclearlydefinedboundaries.Inever

pushedbeyondherlimitsandshelovedeveryminuteofit.Untilshegotpregnant.Shewasonthepilland
itwasafluke.IneverthoughtIwantedkids,butassoonasIknewitwaslikeabombwentoff,rocking
metomycore.Iwantedtomeetmyson.Iwantedtobeafather.Iwanteditsobadlyithurt.

Afterthat,thingsarelikeablur.I’vethoughtaboutitsomuchthememoryhasgonedull,likeanold

polaroidthathasbeenhandledsomuchtheinkhasfaded.Irememberhavingyellingmatchesaboutit.But
Inevertouchedher.Ineverhurther.Wecouldn’tagreeaboutthebaby,soshewenttotheclubwherewe
metandfoundsomederangedassholetobeatherbloody.Shehadpicturestakentodocumenttheabuse
andthenclaimeditwasme.,Thensheranoffandgotanabortionatsomeshadyfuckingplaceoverthe
borderwheretheydon’tkeeprecords.Shetookmyson,andusesherbullshitevidencetosqueezemoney
out of me whenever she wants more. According to her, she has enough evidence to bring me down and
sendmetoprisonovernight.

Ifitcostsmeafewmillionayeartokeepheroffmycase,sobeit.Icanaffordit.Therealdamageis

ahellofalotlesstangible.

My play room has been closed ever since. I hid the key in the false bottom of a potted plant in my

bedroom and left it in my past. All of it. I’ve been with women since, but I can’t take them the way I
crave.Sexhasbecomenothingbutareleaseforme.Thepleasurejustisn’tthereanymore.Latelythough?
My old desires have emerged stronger than ever. My body pulses with a desperate, pounding need to
dominate.ItmightbethelackoffulfillmentI’vebeengettingfromworklately.Itmightjustbethatithas
beentoolong.Idon’tclaimtoknowwhy,butIdoknowit’stime.I’mreadytomoveon.

Ineedtofindtheperfectsubmissive.Iwanttobendhertomywill,toshapeher,trainher,andmake

herfollowmyeverycommand.

I thought that part of me was buried in the past. Maybe not. I feel a wild flush of excitement cut

throughtheblackmoodI’vebeenin.IcouldgotoClubCrave.I’mstillamember.Itwouldbesimpleto
cancel my evening plans for tomorrow. My dick hardens just thinking about it, but I’m not sure I could
actuallyimmersemyselfinadominantandsubmissiverelationshipagain.Lanamayhavespoiledthatfor
me,butIwon’tknowunlessItry.Fuckit.Whynot?

EMMALINE

blowalooselockofhairoutofmyfaceonlytohaveitfallrightbackwhereitwasinthefirstplace.I

sigh, feeling exhausted, but a little hopeful. The room is filled with boxes of baby onesies, headbands,
littlebabysizedsockswithdecorativefrills.MybusinessstartedoutwithanEtsyaccountandaCameo
machineandgrewtothisinafewmonths.Atfirstitfeltlikemydreamwasfinallycomingtrue.Tokeep
upwiththeordersIhadtobringmyfriendScarlettonasanemployee.

MyheadfeelslikeitisgoingtospinrightoffmyneckwhenIstarttothinkabouttaxes,healthcare,

businessinsurance,andthetangleofothercomplicationsthatcomewiththisstepformycompany.

IdowhatIalwaysdowhenIstarttogetstressedaboutmoneythough.Irememberthetrustfundmy

uncle Adam left for me. When I turn twenty-six tomorrow, it’s all mine. A hundred grand. It will be
enoughtocovertheloansIhadtotakeouttorentthisofficespace,thedebtI’vealreadytakenonfrom
tryingtofinishmydesignclasses,andallofmyotherbills.Itwillgivemeafreshstart,andthethought
makesmegiddy.It’sallgoingtoworkout,Emmaline.

Scarlett is looking down at her phone as she crosses the room and accidentally trips over a box of

onsies.

Sheteeterstotheside,stretchesherarmsoutlikeatightropewalker,anddoesaelegantlittlespinto

catch her balance, all without even dropping her phone. She bows theatrically toward me with a big,
cockysmirk.Scarletthasbeenadancerherwholelife,andshe’stheclumsiestgracefulpersonI’veever
seen.SometimesIthinktheonlyreasonshe’ssogoodatavoidingfaceplantingallthetimeisshehasso
muchpracticeatnearlydoingit.

“Smooth,”Isay,grinning.
“Woah,”shesays,nudgingaboxwithhertoe.“Whendidyoufinishheattransferingthevinylontoall

these?”

“Lastnight,”Isay.
Sheplantsafistonherhip,eyeingme.Scarletthastheredhairtomatchhername.I’malwaysjealous

ofhowshecanmakesomethingassimpleasthegrungyt-shirtandjeansshe’swearinglooksexy.She’s
not even wearing shoes and she still looks like she just walked off a fashion shoot. “Last night? As in
afteryoutoldmeyouwereheadedhomebecauseyouhadalreadyspentalldayworking?”

“Youcouldsaythat.”
“Wereallyneedtofindyouaboyfriend.Ithinkyoucoulduseagood,hard,fuck.”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Scarlett has always been crude, but gosh. I’m still a little

shocked by how sexually open she is. We’ve never really dived into the details, but I’ve gathered that
she’sintosomekindofkinkysexualstuff.Myownexperiencewithsex,outsidethemissionaryposition,
islimitedtowhenGeorgeFarmand’sfingerbrushedmyassholeduringsexonetime.AndIslappedhis

handawaylikeitwasasnake.

Yeah,I’marealwildone.
Another boyfriend though? I don’t think I could handle that right now. As much as I crave a

relationship,Iknowitalwaysleadstosex,andsexis…difficultforme.I’veneverbeenwithaguythat
couldgetmeoff.Idon’tknowwhyandit’sfrustratingashell,butit’salwaysthesame.Afewnicedates
lead to unfulfilling sex. After the fruitless attempts, the disconnect between us grows and it just ends.
Everytime.

Justthinkingaboutitdepressesme.It’slikethere’ssomethinginmethat’ssupposedtoworkandit’s

broken.ForthelongesttimeIjustthoughtIneededtofindtherightguy,butI’mstartingtothinkthere’sno
suchthing.

“Nothanks,”Isayquietly.
Shetiltsherheadthoughtfully.“Iknowwhatwecando.Myfriendworksforthissuperrichguyand

theythrowthemostinsaneValentine’sDaypartyeveryyearfortheemployees.Shesaidshecouldgetme
in,butI’msureIcouldbringyoutoo.Comeon.It’llbelikeacelebrationforyourtrustfundmoney!”

“Idon’tknow…Itsoundsalotlikewe’dbecrashingtheparty.”
“And?”asksScarlett,genuinelylookinglikeshe’swaitingformetoexplaintheproblemwiththat.
Ibitemylip.Itdoessoundnice.Ihavebeenconsumedwithmybusinessandonelookinthemirrorat

my frazzled hair and the circles under my eyes can attest to how little time I’ve spent taking care of
myself.“Okay.I’llgo.”

Scarlettclapsherhandstogetherandsmileswide.“You’regoingtoloveit.Iwentlastyear.Justwait

‘tilyouseethehost,Mr.Steel.He’sfuckinggorgeous.”

“Mr.Steel?”Iask,feelingatinglerunacrossmyskin.
Scarlettquirksaneyebrowatme.“You’llsee.Anyway,ifit’sokaywithyou,I’mgoingtoheadoutfor

thenight.”

“Sure,”Isay.“Canyoubeinalittleearlytomorrow?Iwashopingtogetatleasthalfoftheseorders

delivered.”

Her eyes scan the room littered with boxes and boxes of clothes. She looks at me skeptically, but

nods.“Brightandearly.Yougotit,boss.”

Ilaugh.“Wouldyoupleasestopcallingmethat?”
“Nope,”shesays,wavingoverhershoulderasshegracefullyhopsoveraboxonlytojamhertoeinto

a table leg nearly toppling onto her face. As usual, she manages to spin out of a near fall and get her
balance.Shegivesmeathumbsupoverhershoulderassheleaves.

Ifindachairthat’snotalreadyoccupiedbyclothesandplopdown,checkingmyphone.Iknowwhat

I’llseebutIlookanyway.Atextfrommymom.

Mom(5:21P.M.):meandronniewerelookingatcruises.bahamaswouldbenice.havntheardfrom

u.dontbeselfish,emm.itsalotofmoneyurunclewouldhavewantedutoshare.

Istarttotapareplyout.
“Sorry,Mom.Rightnowisn’tgood.Ihavedebtandbusinessexpenses,butinafewweeks,maybea

month--”

I press and hold the delete button, setting the phone down roughly on the table beside me. Tears

threatentocome,butIpushthemdown.Iwon’tcryoverher.Notanymore.Shemakesmefeellikesucha
shittydaughter,butUncleAdamleftherjustasmuchmoneyasheleftmewhenhepassedaway.Theonly
differenceisthatshedidn’thavetowaitforhers.Sheblewitbeforetheyearwasevenover.Expensive
dinners,clothes,jewelry,travel,andinfomercialpurchases.Andnotadimeofitwenttowardhelpingme
withmycollegedebtorlivingexpenses.

NowthatI’mfinallyabouttohavemytrustmoney,she’ssuddenlytextingandcallingmeallthetime.

AmonthagoIcould’vecountedononehandthenumberoftimesshereachedouttomeinthelastfew

years.Itmakesmystomachsick,partlybecauseIstillfeellikeIshouldbeabletodosomethingforher,
andpartlybecauseIknowshe’susingme.Myownmomistryingtouseme.

Theonlyrealsurpriseinallofthishasbeenthatmydadandbrotherhaven’treachedouttome.After

dadsplitwithmom,hecutcontactcompletely.Mybrother,Mark,followedhim.Thedivorcewasmessy
andmymomanddadwerebothpointingfingersateachother,forcingmybrotherandItochoosesides.I
didn’twanttohavetochoose,butitwasmydadwhocheated,soIultimatelysidedwithmymom,while
mybrotherblamedmymomforcausingmydadtowanttocheat.Weweren’texactlytheBradyBunch.

Eitherway,Iexpectedmydadtocomeoutofhidingtotrytogetapieceofmytrustfund,butmaybe

he’sfocusinghiseffortonMark,whowillbegettinghismoneyintwoyears.Whoknows.IwouldsayI
don’tcare,butitwouldbealie.Asimperfectandvileasmyparentscanbe,Istilllovetheminaway.It
doesn’tmeanI’mgoingtoletthemtakeadvantageofme,butIstillhopesomedaytheywillcomearound
andstartactinglikerealparents,asunlikelyasthatis.

LOGAN

sit across from Dean in our usual place. It’s an expensive restaurant downtown and I recognize

senators,CEOs,andafewcelebritiesaroundtheroom.Deanlookssharpinhissuitasusual.He’sclean-
cut and has a classic boy next door look that makes him look like he belongs in high society. He’s not
rougharoundtheedgeslikeIam.

“Nakasukiistalkingaboutpullingouthisinvestment,”saysDeangravely.
Igrimace,draggingmythumbandforefingeracrossthestubbleonmyjaw.“That’swhat,tenpercent?”
“Elevenandahalf.”
“Fuck,”Isay,leaningback.
“Maintaininggrowthisn’tenoughinthismarket,”Deansays,almostapologetically.“Butyoualready

knowthat.”

Iwaveitoff.IfweloseNakasuki,welosehim.“Fuckhim,”Isay.
Deansmirks.“Ifiguredyouwouldsaysomethinglikethat.”
Ileanback,strippingoffmyjacket,despitetherestaurant’sruleaboutproperattire.Theyknowbetter

than to question me here. Our waitress asks if I want more bourbon, and I eye her appraisingly. She’s
sexy,inaquiet,reservedkindofway.Thewayhereyesflickfromminetotheglassnervouslymakeit
clearshe’sinterested,butI’mnot.

“DoyoustillgotoClubCrave?”IaskDeanafterthewaitresshasleft.
“Straightfrombusinesstopleasuretonight,then?”Heasks.
Ishrug.“Doyou?”Idon’tlikerepeatingmyself,butI’veknownDeanlongenoughtolethimgetaway

withmorethanmost.

“Yes.That’swhereImetStephanie.”
Ipursemylipsthoughtfully.
“TomorrowistheValentine’sparty,Logan.Ifyou’rethinkingwhatitlookslikeyou’rethinking.It’ll

havetowait.”

Ihadcompletelyforgotten,butIdon’twanttoadmitthat.Thisshitwithmyexhasmemoreoutofit

thanIlike.Imakeaquickvowtosortthatoutassoonasfuckingpossible.Idon’tlikebeingsloppy.It’s
nothowIoperate.It’snothowIgotwhereIam,andit’sarealfastwaytofallfromthetop.I’llgetherthe
checktomorrowmorningandcallitdone,atleastuntilshecomesbackformoremoneynextyear.

“Thenightafter,then.”
“MaybeI’llseeyouthere,”saysDean.“Stephaniehasbeenbeggingmetoshareherwithaguyshe

hashereyeonfromCrave,andIthinkImayjustgiveherwhatshewantssoon.”

Deanhasalwayshadtastesthatarealittlemoreeccentricthanmine.Helikesthreesomesandhelikes

watchinghissubsgiveintoothermen.It’snotmystyleatall,buttoeachhisown.Afterall,that’sthe

wholeideaofClubCrave.Memberscancomewithclearlyidentifiedtastesanddistastesandfindpeople
who share their interests. Like an addict getting ready to come off a long stint of being sober, even
thinking about the club gets my dick hard. I’ve stayed away from the lifestyle for so long. I still don’t
know if Lana’s bullshit is going to keep me from actually enjoying myself when I find the right
submissive,butI’mgoingtotry.

Ialwaysneededtodominatewomentogetoff,sincewellbeforeImetmyex-wife.Aftereverything

thathappened,Icouldn’tthinkaboutdominationandsubmissionwithoutthinkingofherandwhatshedid-
-howItrustedherandshemademelooklikeajackassforit.Istillfeelapprehensionaboutsteppingback
into the club and the lifestyle that comes with it, but I’m finally ready to try. I just have to get the
Valentine’sDaypartyoutoftheway.

BeforeIwasmarried,Istartedthetraditionofthepartytobuildcompanymoralebutmainlyasanight

of release. I would bring my favorite girls to my play room at my house. I got off knowing that I was
dominatingthemjustabovethehundredsofemployees,cluelesslyenjoyingthemselvesattheparty.Itwas
aspecialtreat,oneIlookedforwardtoallyear.Lately,ithasjustbecomeanobligation.ImakesureI’m
seenandsufferthroughit,countingdowntheminutesuntilit’sover,notbotheringtotoywiththewomen.

Thewaitressdropsoffourmealsandrefillsourdrinks.Itakeasipofmybourbonandlookdownat

thesteak.It’sacutofKobestylebeef,marbledperfectlywithjustenoughfattomakeeverybitemeltin
mymouth.Thechefonlygarnishedthemeatwithapadofbutterandparsley.Themeatitselflookslikeit
wascrustedinsaltandpepperandthensearedontheedges,butit’sstillperfectlyrareinthemiddle,just
howIlike.

“AnythingnewfromLana?”Deaninquiresashedabsthecornersofhismouthwithhisnapkin.
“Yeah,”Isaysimply.Idon’tgointomuchdetailaboutitwithhim,buthehasknownmelongenough

topieceittogether.

Hesighsandshakeshisheadslightly.“Unbelievable.”Thoughhesaysnothing,Iknowhe’sthinkingI

shouldcutheroff.Ishouldhirealawyerandbracemyselfforwhatevershitsheslingsmyway.Buthe
knowsbetterthantobringitupagain.MarryingLanawasamistake,butitwasmymistake.AndIalways
payformymistakes,whateverthecost.

ImadethatpainfullyapparentwhenIburiedthecareerofmyformerbusinesspartnerswhocrossed

me.Theythoughtmylifestylewasputtingthecompanyindanger.Maybeitwas,butIstarteditfromthe
groundup,andiftheythoughttheyweregoingtowrestlethereinsfromme,theyweredumberthanthey
looked.Ilearnedahardlessoninthoseyears.Ilearnednottotrust.Ilearnedtoclosemyselfofftothe
world.IjustwishIhadappliedwhatIlearnedtomyex-wifebeforeshehadachancetofuckmeovertoo.

Ican’teventrustmyparentsanymore.Onceitwasclearthecompanywastakingoff,myfatherturned

in his notice at work and my mom followed close behind. They both just quit their jobs with the
expectationthatIwouldtakecareofthemwithoutquestion.Istillsendthemmoney,andtheyneverbother
tocontactmeanymoreunlessit’stoaskforanothercheck.OneofthefewpeoplefrommypastIstilltrust
ismysister.Oliviahasneveronceaskedmeforanything,soI’vealwaysmadesureshehaseverything
sheneeds.

I push my plate away, appetite suddenly gone at the thought of my parents. My shoulders are tight

whenIwalkoutoftherestaurant.Myex,myfamily,andallthememoriesIwouldratherleavebehind…It
allfeelslikeit’spushingmebacktowhereIusedtofindcomfort.It’spushingmetowardtheoldmeandI
canbarelyfightbacktheanticipationofsteppinginsideClubCraveagainforthefirsttimeinyears.

“I

EMMALINE

’msorry,canyoucheckagain?”Isaylaughingnervously.“Theremustbeamistake.”

I’mstandingatthecounter,acrossfromabanktellerwithaboredexpression.Hesighsandlooks

backtothecomputer,tappingafewkeysandclickingthemouse.Hiseyesscanthescreenandthenslide
backtome.“There’snomoneyinyourtrustfund.Itwaspulledoutbya...Mr.Styles.Thesystemsays
he’syour--”

“Father,”Isaythroughgrittedteeth.MyheartispoundinginmychestandIfeellight-headed.Ican

feelthefullweightofrealitywaitingtocrashdownandcrushme,butI’mnotthereyet.It’stoomuchto
takeinatonce.“IstheresomeoneelseIcantalktoaboutthis?Itwassupposedtobeatrustforme.He
shouldn’thavebeenableto…”

The teller, Steve, according to his nametag, gives me an obnoxiously placating smile. He turns and

tapsawomaninapantsuitwiththebackofhishandandspeakstoherinlowtones.Thewomaneyesme
whiletheytalkandthenwalksovertome,heelsthumpingonthecheapcarpet.Sheflashesatoothysmile
thatsaysshe’sreadytogothroughthemotionstogetridofmeandnomore.

“Let’sjustlookintothisonemoretimetobesure,”shesays.
Iforceasmilebackather,clutchingmyhandstogetheronthecountertokeepthemfromshaking.All

ofit.Hetookallofit.ThewordsechoinmyheadandIfeeltendrilsofhopelessnessreachinguptograb
mefromsomewheredark.IthinkofalltheloansandthedebtIthoughtwouldbecompletelycovered.IfI
don’t get this trust money, everything could fall apart. Every last thing. I could lose my business, my
apartment,mychanceatfinishingschool.Hell,Idon’tevenknowhowI’dfindmoneytoeat.

Breathe, Emmaline. I force myself to breath more slowly, realizing I’m on the verge of

hyperventilating.

Themanagerpursesherlipsandclicksthemouseafewtimesandthennodsherhead.Icantellshe’s

tryingtolooksympathetic,butIcanseerightthroughit.Shedoesn’treallycare.“I’msorry,MissStyles.
YourUnclelefttherighttoaccessthemoneytoyourparents.Yourfatherwaswithinhislegalrightsto
withdrawitearly.”

Ifeelnumb.Myhandsareshakingandtearsthreatentofall,butIpushthemback.Nothere.Notnow.

Holdittogether.I’lltalktohim.Maybethere’sawaytoresolvethisandI’mjustnotseeingthewhole
picture.

“Miss,couldyoupleasestepasidesoIcanhelpthenextcustomer?”
I jump a little at the sound of her voice, sniffing in a startled breath and adjusting my purse on my

shoulder.Istepawayfromthewindowfeelingworthless,walkingoutofthebankasquicklyasIcanto
findaquietplaceoutsidetositdown.IpulloutmyphonewithatremblinghandandrealizeI’mgoingto
havetocallmymomtogetmydad’snumber.

Icallmymomquickly,beforeIcantalkmyselfoutofit.Sheanswersonthefirstring.
“Emmaline,”mymomsays.Hervoiceissternwithanoteofwarning.She’sprobablyplanningtotell

meofffornottextingherback,butIdon’thavethepatienceforthatrightnow.

“Mom,Ineeddad’snumber.It’simportant.”
“You haven’t texted me back in days. Ronnie and I are trying to make plans and you are making it

impossibleforus.”

Ipinchthebridgeofmynose,tryingtopushdowntheangerrisingupandthreateningtoexplode.The

fastestwaythroughthiswholemessisjusttotellher.IdoubtI’llevergetdad’snumberoutofherunless
shethinksit’stheonlywayshecangettothetrustfundmoney.“Dadtookthemoneyinthetrust.Allofit.I
justleftthebank.There’snothingleft.”

SilencefollowsandIcanhearthedistantcrackleofthewindfromherendofthephone.“Hewouldn’t

dare,”shesaysfinally,voicecoldandthreatening.

“Yeah,wellapparentlyhewould,mom.Ineedhisnumber.”
ShegivesmethenumberandswearsshewillstraightenthisoutifIcan’t.Ofcourseshewantstohelp.

Icancountonmymomtostepinandlookaftermeifshethinksthere’smoneyinitforher.

Ihangupthephoneandpunchinmydad’snumber,handstrembling.ItringsforalongtimeuntilI’m

abouttohangup.Agruffvoiceanswersfinally,avoiceIhaven’theardinseveralyears.“Who’sthis?”he
asks.

“Emmaline,”Isay.
“Oh,yeah.Ithoughtyou’dbecallingtoday.”
Mybloodchills.“Whyisthat?”Iask.I’mbarelyincontrol.Myheartthudsagainstmyribcageandmy

bloodpoundsinmyears.

“Don’tmakemesayit,Em.”
Iwait.He’snotgettinganounceofmercyfromme.Notafuckingounce.
Hefinallysighs.“Yeah.Iwithdrewthemoney.Imadeafewbadinvestmentsandhadtopayoffmy

debts.”

I wait for more, for an apology, some shred of regret or remorse to soften the betrayal, but nothing

comes.“There’snoneleft?”Iask,hatinghowmyvoicequivers.

“No.Istillowemoney.Momsaidyouhadabusinessandweremakinggoodmoney,soifyoucanjust

lendme--”

Ihangupthephone,breathheaving.Iclosemyeyes,squeezingthemagainstthetearsthatfinallycome

streaming down my cheeks and leaving hot trails in their wake. My skin tingles. The wave of reality
threateningtocrashdownonmeforthelastfewminutesfinallycomesdownwithcrushingforce.Heleft,
butIalwaysclungtotheideathatheregrettedit,thathemissedmeandwouldtrytomakeitrightsome
day.Itmadedealingwithmymom’sincreasinglydisturbingbehaviorandtheotherstressinmylifeeasier.

It’s all gone. Not just the money, but my hope too. My hope of making a life for myself better than

everyone thought I could. My business. My passion. I can see it all slipping out of reach and there’s
nothingIcando.

Even worse than my own failure is the way I’m failing my best friend. I know Scarlett has made

sacrificestoworkforme,andI’vebeendoingeverythingIcantopayherwhatshedeserves.Now?God.
NowIdon’tevenknowifI’llbeabletokeeppayingher.

IlosetrackofhowlongIsittherealoneonthebench,feelingmorecompletelyalonethanI’veever

felt. There’s a world of responsibility and sadness threatening to close in around me and I have to
somehowfindawaytoshoulderitallandpushthrough.Somehow.

PRESS

an iron to the heat transfer pad, applying a decal to the onesie I’m working on. Scarlett huffs in

frustrationwhensheaccidentallytearsthevinyldesignshewaspeelingfromthetransferpaper.

“Dammit,becareful!”Isnap.
Scarlettlooksupinsurprise,facereddening.Thevinylisexpensive,butI’veneverlashedoutather

likethatbeforeforamistake.It’spartofthebusiness.

“Sorry,”Isayquickly,feelingmyselfdeflate.
“Hey,”shesays,movingcloserandputtingahandonmyarm.“What’sgoingon?You’vebeenoffall

morning. I thought you’d be all bubbly because your bank account is probably looking really nice right
aboutnow.Todaywastheday,right?Emma?”

I shake my head, but can’t stop the tears from coming. Dammit. My mind floods with unwanted

memories. Images of the bills laid out on my kitchen table that are now going to get more and more
overdue,ofthefeesthatwilladdup,ofhowlongitwilltakebeforecollectorsstartcalling.It’stoomuch.
Mybodyshakesasawaveofsobsripthroughme.

Scarlett is holding me tightly, squeezing her arms around me and shushing me. “It’s okay, Emma.

You’reokay.”

Ilethersootheme,pushingdownmyworriesforthemomentuntilIgetcontrolofmyself.Shegently

sitsmedownonaboxandpullsastoolupacrossfrommeandsits,eyeingmecritically.“What’sgoing
on?”

Itallspillsoutofme.TheproblemswithmymomI’vebeenholdingin,thebills,thedebt,andfinally

thetrustfund.Scarlett’sfacewrinkleswithsympathyandshesqueezesmykneewhenIfinish.Ifeellike
an emptied vessel, having poured everything out makes the wounds feel fresh and raw, but somehow
betterinaway.

“Thisisgoingtosoundalittleweird,”saysScarlettslowly.“ButIknowawayyoucouldmakesome

extramoney.There’sthisclub,it’sforpeoplewith…exotictastes.Iworkedtheretopaymywaythrough
college. You just have to wear the, uh, uniform and play by the rules. If you think of it like acting, it’s
reallynotthatbad.”

Ifrown,confused.“I’mnotfollowing...”
Shesucksinabreath,obviouslyuncomfortable.“It’saBDSMclub.ClubCrave.Theclientsareall

extremelywealthyfromCEOstosenators.Theypaidgirlslikemetohelpcreateatmosphereandsellthe
scene.”

“Sellthescene?”Iask,stillnotfullywrappingmyheadaroundwhatshe’ssaying.
“Youwouldplaytheroleofasubmissive.Youminglewiththeguests,socialize,andkeepaneyeon

everythingtomakesurenooneisbreakingtherules.”

“Idon’tthinkthisisforme,”Isayquickly.
“Itpaysfivegrandaweek,”shesays,smirkingalittle.
“Aweek?”Iask.“Forhowmanyhoursofwork?”
“Youwouldonlyworkweekendsandit’sonlyfrom6P.M.to2A.M.”
“Fivegrandaweekfortwodaysofwork?You’reserious?”
Shenods.“IstillhavetheMatron’snumber.Icouldbeyourreference.Ifyouwant.”
I swallow hard. BDSM? My knowledge of the subject starts and stops with Fifty Shades. But I’ve

admittedlyalwaysfeltdrawntotheideaofitall.I’veneverexperimentedsexually.Maybeitwasjustthe
guysIwaswithormyownself-consciousness,buttheonlysexI’veeverhadisasstandardasitcomes,
minusthewholepartwhereIenjoyit.Themoneysoundslikeananswertomyproblems,andtheclub…
I’malittleembarrassedbyhowmuchtheideaisquicklytakingrootinmyhead,makingmethinkacrazy
thought.Thethoughtthatmaybethekeytomystuntedsexualityisburiedsomewhereintheworldofkinky
sex,leatherstraps,handcuffs,andcollars.“Idon’tknow,”Isay.ButIdoknow.I’mgoingtotryitbecause
Ihavenootherchoice.

“Iknowitdoesn’tseemlikeit,butIthinkyoushouldstillgotothepartytonight.Itwillhelpgetyour

mindoffthings.AndIalreadytoldMichelleyouwerecoming.”

“Whynot?”Iask,feelingmorethanalittlecrazy.

LOGAN

ymansionwasconvertedintotheperfectpartyspotwhileIwasattheoffice.IpullmyAstonMartin

DB11intothelowestlevelofmyprivategarage.Idrovepastasmallarmyofcarsparkedoutsidefrom
the catering crews and decorators still putting the finishing touches on my place. The door closes
automaticallybehindmewhenIpullin.Istepout,feelingasenseofnumbnesswhenIlookatallmycars.
Millionsofdollarsofsteelandrubberareinthisonefloorofmygaragealone,andIcan’tmusterupeven
anounceofpridetoknowit’sallmine.

Ipushthroughitthough.I’malwaysalittlepronetodrearinessontheanniversaryofthedayIshould

have become a father. I’m not the sentimental type by a long shot, but this is the one exception. I step
inside, fighting the urge to growl out loud as I push past caterers and decorators bustling through my
house.Ijustwantahotshowerandsometimetorelax,butit’spainfullyclearthat’snotgoingtohappen.
I’mbombardedwithquestionsandhavetospendthenexthourgrudginglygruntingandnoddingbetween
colorchoicesandwheretoputthisorthat.Ifinallybrushitalloffandtellthemtojustfuckingdecide
becauseIdon’tcare.

PARTY

STARTS

in full force an hour later. I’m already irritated from having to deal with the people I

paidtosetuptheparty.It’simportanttogetthepartyright,though.OneofthereasonsI’mthebestatwhat
IdoisIknowhowtogetthemostoutofthepeoplewhoworkforme.Ipushthemharderthananyboss
they’ve ever had and I demand far more of them than most even know they can give. I also show them
appreciation with parties like this on a regular basis. On top of the paid vacations, bonuses, and
incentives I offer. These parties are a large part of what makes working for my company a can’t miss
opportunity.

Istandoverthemainentranceofmyfoyer.I’monthesecondfloor,leaningagainstthebannisterand

watchingasgroupaftergroupofwell-dressedyoungprofessionalsfilein.Themenwearclean,expensive
suitsandthewomenlookdazzlinginelegantdresses.Itrytokeepmymindonbusiness,butIcan’tstop
thinkingaboutClubCrave,andthesudden,nearlyirresistableurgetogobackthereandreignitethatside
ofmyself.Istepdownthestairs,catchingtheeyesofambitiousmenandwomenwhoinstantlyrecognize
me.

Iknowmostoftheirfaces.I’vealwayshadatalentforfacesandnames,soI’mabletoslidethrough

thecrowd,shakinghands,kissingcheeks,andclappingshoulderswhilegreetingeveryonebynameand
askingafterthelittledetailsIknowaboutthem.It’sallpartofthegame.Noonewantstofeellikeacogin
themachine.Everyonewantstobeimportantandfeelspecial,liketheycouldmoveuptheladderanyday.
Igivethemthat,whetherit’strueornot,itmakesthemworkhardandlikedoingit.

AssoonasIcatchabreakfromminglingwithmyemployees,Iheadtothebarandletthefakesmile

fall from my face. I reach past the bartender and pour myself a straight shot of tequilla, draining it and
wincingasitburnsitswaydownmythroat.

“Mr.Steel,”saysasultryvoicetomyright.
Iturntoseemynewsecretaryandmyeyesaredrawndowntotheridiculousnecklineofherdress.If

shesomuchasbreathedtoodeeply,hernippleswouldbeproudlyondisplay.She’sbold,I’llgiveher
that.Hernameescapesmeforafractionofasecond,butIrecoverquickly.

“Lacey, you look wonderful tonight. Did you ever find out about those tickets?” The tidbit of

informationcomesbacktomewithhername.Shewastryingtogetticketstoanorchestrawithherfriend,
buttheyweresoldout.

Her cheeks flush red and she leans against the bar, resting her head on her knuckles. Her eyes are

hungryasshelooksatmeandbitesherlip,clearlynotrealizingIaskedheraquestion.

Isqueezehershoulderbrieflyandstand.“Enjoytonight,”Isay,leaninginsoshecanhearmeoverthe

musicthat’snowplaying.“There’snobetterpartyinthecityonValentine’sDay.”

Shelooksafterme,mouthopenasifshewasabouttospeak,butherwordsthankfullyfailherandI’m

abletoslipaway.

Thepartyisrapidlystartingtolookmorelikeapartyandlesslikeacompanysponsoredevent.To

theircredit,thedecoratorsdidagoodjobthisyear,astheyusuallydo.Stagelightswerebroughtintoset
theentireroominpinklightingwithsomeareasofbrightred.Themainlivingroomwasconvertedintoa
dancefloor,andaprofessionalDJissetupaswell.Pinklightslinethepatiooutbackandthepooleven
hasredfiltersovertherecessedlighting.

TheserversarescantilycladmenandwomendressedinValentine’sDaythemedoutfits.Theypass

aroundfrozenTequilaheartsonsticksdyedwithredfoodcoloringanddustedwithsaltandlime.There
arethreefullbarsthroughoutthegroundfloorandmorethanenoughappetizersandfingerfoodstofeed
theentirecrowdtwiceover.Ican’ttaketwostepswithoutbeingstoppedbysomeone,shakingahand,or
beingforcedtoenduresomeone’sthinly-veiledpitchforwhytheyshouldbepromoted.

It’sonlybeenthirtyminutesandI’malreadyabouttoloseit.Iquicklyassessthepartyanddecideit’s

alreadymovingintherightdirectionandhasenoughmomentumtostaythatway.Thereisagrowinggroup
of my employees on the dance floor letting loose. I catch a few flashes of women’s skirts riding
scandalouslyhighastheybumpandgrindthemselvesintotheirdancepartnersattheheartofthegroup.

Islipupstairs,notcompletelyavoidingnotice,butonlydrawingafewcuriousglancesasIretreatto

my bedroom and sigh heavily, running hands through my hair. Music thumps loudly from downstairs,
sendingvibrationsthroughmyfeetthatIcanfeelinmychest.Asalways,myeyesaredrawntothedoorof
myplayroom.Eventhedooritselfpromisesthesensualitywithin.It’spaddedinthick,polishedleather,
dimpledwithregularlyspacedleatherrivets.Thelockisthickandextravagant,andthekeyisonlyafew
feetaway,hiddeninthefalsebottomofavasethatrestsontopofmybookshelf.

Soon.ThelasttimeIclosedthatdoorwasoneofthedarkestpointsinmylife,andmaybetheonly

waytoclawmywaybackfromthatdarknesswillbetoopenitagain.I’veresisteditforsolong,butI
haveneeds,andIcan’tsuppressthemforever.

EMMALINE

e’re a little late by the time Scarlett and I arrive at Mr. Steel’s party. His house is enormous. It

actuallylooksmorelikeanexpensiveresortstylehotelthanahouse.Ican’tevenbegintoimaginehow
manybedroomstherecouldbeinsideandwhatotherkindsofamenitiesahouselikethismusthave.The
drivewayislinedwithcars,youngvaletsinvestsjogouttograbkeysfromtheirownersandpullthecars
around to a parking area down the road. I bulge my eyes at Scarlett, completely blown away by the
extravaganceofitall.

“Thisisinsane,”Isay.
“Whyareyouwhispering?”Scarlettasks,grinningasshejabsmeintheside.
Iblushalittle,smilingupatthehouse.“Ican’tbelievewegettogoinside.”Iswallowhard,suddenly

nervous.“You’resuresecretserviceisn’tgoingtotackleuswhenwegothroughthedoororsomething,
right?”

“We’llbefine.Justbecasual.Theymighttackleyouifyoukeepclutchingyourhandbaginfrontof

yourstomachlikesomelittleoldlady.”

IlookdownandsighwhenIrealizeshe’sright.MyfingersarediggingintothefakeleatherlikeI’m

afraidsomeone’sgoingtostealit.Notlikelyataplacelikethis.

We step inside and I’m freshly amazed by the party. “You said this was a company party,” I say to

Scarlettaswecrossthefoyerandmakeourwaytowardoneofthebars.

“Mr.Steelapparentlyusedtobequitetheplayboy,soit’snosurprisehethrowsawildparty.”
“Nokidding,”Isay,myvoicesobreathlessit’scompletelylostinthethrumofthemusicandthedin

ofvoices.

Wetakeourplacesatthebarandhaveafewdrinks.Ikeepreaffirmingwiththebartenderthathe’s

surethey’refree.

“Completelyfree,Miss,”hesaysforthefourthtime,soundingalittleirritated.
I notice Scarlett looking longingly toward the dance floor, but she’s a good friend, and obviously

doesn’twanttoabandonmebymyselfatapartywhereIdon’tknowanybody.She’sprobablyevenmore
reluctanttoleavemeafterIgushedoutallmyproblemsearliertoday.

Iputahandonherforearm.“Hey,gohavefun.”IsmilealittlemoreconfidentlythanIfeel.“I’mgoing

tothrowacouplemorefreedrinksdownandthengoscopetheplaceout.”

Shefrowns,confusedforasecondbeforeshelaughs.“Really?Whatareyougoingtodo,goupstairs

andjuststartsnooping?”

“No!”Isay,scandalized.“Butwhenthesedrinksarereadytocomeout,myshybladdermightdraw

meupstairswhereIcangetabetterlookattheplace.Ijusthavetoknowhowmanybedroomsthereare.”

Shequirksherlipsupinamusement.“You’reatrip,Emma.You’resurethough?Ireallydon’tmind

hangingwithyouifyou’re--”

“I’msure,”Isay.“TheworstthatcouldhappenisIgetlostinthemansionandtheyhavetosenda

searchpartyafterme.Eitherway,Igettocheckoutthissupernicehouse,soit’sawinwin.”

Scarlettlaughsandleansintokissmycheek.“Don’tsnooptoohard,andbecarefulgoingupthose

stairsinyourheels.”

“Yes,mom,”Isay,smilingbackather.“Gohavefun.”
It’sonlyafewminutesaftersheleavesthatIreallydohavetogotothebathroom.Iwalkthroughthe

throbbing mass of partiers, marveling at how quickly the mood is shifting from fun to wild. Mr. Steel
reallydoesknowhowtothrowaparty.Ilookatthestairs,hesitating.Absolutelynooneisgoinguptothe
secondfloor,asifit’ssomekindofunwrittenrule.Isigh,losingmynerveandlookingforabathroomon
thegroundfloor.Istepinsidethefirstoneandhavetostumbleout,apologizingwhenIwalkinonaman
withhishandallthewayupawoman’sdress,fingeringhermercilessly.

Ipressmybackagainstawall,breathingheavily.Isuddenlyfeelalittleoverwhelmed,likethisparty

isovermyhead.ButifIplantoreallygothroughwithapplyingtoClubCrave,maybethisisexactlythe
initiationIneed.ChancesareI’llseepeopledoingthingsthatarealotmorerisquethanhookingupina
bathroom.Still,woulditkillthemtolockthedoor?

Icheckseveralmorebathrooms,findinglockeddoorsandlinesthataretoolongtowaitin.Myneed

to pee eventually overwhelms my good sense, and I scurry up the stairs, heels clicking loudly on the
marbledsteps.ThemusicstillboomsupstairsandIcanstillhearthewhoopsandlaughterfromtheparty.
Icheckseveraldoorsbeforefinallyfindingonethat’sunlocked.IstepinsidetheroomandcringewhenI
realize I probably just found the master bedroom. It’s absolutely massive. French doors lead from the
backoftheroomtoabeautifulpatiowithcurvingstaircasesthatleaddowntoaterracedgardenbelow.
Thegardenishedgedinbytall,perfectlytrimmedbushes.

My eyes slide past the king sized bed and lock on a strange, leather door set into the wall. I walk

towardit,naturallydrawncloserandcloser,curiosityboominginmychest.I’mabouttoreachoutand
touchthedoorwhenanotherdoorwithinthebedroomswingsopen,nearlyknockingmeover.Istumble
backwardasamaninatowelstepsout,headdownasherubshissoakinghairwithablacktowel.

Tannedskin.Broadshoulders.Eight-packabs.Myeyesdartfromfeaturetofeatureofthemasterpiece

in front of me. He lifts the towel and cold gray eyes pierce through me. There’s no shame or
embarrassment in his face, just a slight quirk of his eyebrow. He has thick, dark hair that somehow
managestofallperfectlyoverhisfaceeventhoughhewasjustdryingitwithatowel.Ibitemylip,taking
inthescruffdustinghisstartlinglydefinedjawline.

“Areyoulost?”heasks.
His deep voice startles me. I jump a little, and realize I’ve just been shamelessly staring at him.

“Sorry,”Iblurt,cheeksblazingwithheat.

“Iaskedyouaquestion,”hesays,somewhatfirmly.
I’mstartledbyhowdirectheis.“Abathroom,”Isaybreathlessly.“Ihavetopee.”
Hiseyestakemeinslowly,deliberately.Ishiftunderhisscrutiny.Nomanhaseverlookedatmelike

he’slookingatme.He’sappraisingmelikehemightinspectsomethinghejustpurchased,orsomethinghe
alreadyowns.Therealizationsendsanunexpectedthrillofexcitementthroughme.Ifeelmycoreheatand
mynipplesharden.

“Youcanusemine,”hesays,gesturingtothebathroomhejuststeppedoutof.
Ilookdownatthefloor,noddingmythanksasItrytoslippasthimintothebathroom,buthedoesn’t

budge,forcingmetobrushagainsthishardbody.Awaveofchillspassesoverme.Inthebriefinstantwe
touched,Icouldfeeltheheatradiatingfromhisskinandimaginewhatitwouldbeliketorunmyhands
downhissmoothmusclesandtohavehishandsonme.

Iclosethebathroomdoorbehindme,givingmeamercifulbreakfromtheintensityofhispresence.I

pressmybacktothedoor,suckinginheavybreathslikeIjustranamile.Mendon’thavethateffecton
me. Years of fruitless sexual encounters and failed relationships have pretty much made me numb to
attractivenessorsexualfantasies.Butjustlookingathimandfeelinghisdominatingpresenceactuallyhas
mycoreclenchingfromneed.

Istepthroughthesteamybathroom,admiringthehugeshowerwithmultiplefaucetsandtryingnotto

picturehimnaked,bathedinhot,steamingwater.Isteppastadiscardedsuit,slacks,andapairofblack
briefsthrownontheground.Iguiltilylookatthebriefs,lickingmylips.

Iquicklyusethebathroomandstepbackoutintotheroom.Ifindhimhalf-dressed.He’swearinga

pairofunbuttonedslackswithoutashirt.

Iavertmyeyes,mymouthissuddenlydry.“AreyouMr.Steele?”Iask.
Hehalf-turns,givingmejustaglimpseoftheroundedmuscleofhischest.“Yes,”hesayssimply.“Are

youanintern?Idon’trecognizeyou.”

Mystomachclenches.“Yes,”Isayquickly.“Ijuststarted.”
Henarrowshiseyesatme.Foramoment,I’mafraidhe’sgoingtoaskformoredetails,butheletsit

pass.

“Right,”Isaynervously.“Well,I’mgoingtogoback…”Iturntoleave,buthestopsmewithahand

onmyshoulder,makingmeturntofacehim.Thewarmthofhishandseepsintome,sendingmymindto
dark places with even darker images of him bending me over the bed, having his way with me.
Dominatingme.Ifeelachillatthethought.IsthatwhatIwant?

“Yourdress,”hesays,steppingclosertomeandwrappinghisarmsaroundmetoreachtomylower

back.Hisbarechestpressesintome,makingmybreathcatch.“You’reunzipped.”Hisfaceisinchesfrom
mineandhavingthosepiercingeyesjustinchesfrommineisalmosttoomuch.IcouldkisshimifIjust
leanedforward…

Buthezipsmeupandthenstepsback,turningawayasiftherewasnothingtothegesture.
“Thankyou,”Isayquietly.Idon’twanttowalkoutoftheroom.Iknowamanlikethiswouldnever

normallylooktwiceatme.Everywomaninthecityprobablythrowsherselfathim.Theneedtoextend
themomentpushesmetosaysomething.Anything.“It’sbeautiful,”Isay.

Iseeahintoflaughterinhiseyeswhenheturnstolookatme.
“Thehouse!”Isayquickly,shieldingmyeyesinembarrassment.“Thehouseisbeautiful,Imean.Not

thatyouaren’t,ofcour--”IclampmymouthshutbeforeIcandoanymoredamage.

Hefinallyslidesatightblackshirtonthathugshismuscles.Theshirtdoeslesstodullthethrobof

needbetweenmylegsthanIwashoping.Thesleevesstretchtightoverhisbicepsand…

He steps closer and looks at me appraisingly, placing a finger on his perfect chin. “Tell me your

name,” he says. It’s not a question. He doesn’t strike me as the type to do a whole lot of questioning.
Statementsanddemandsarethisman’sway,andIfindmyselflikingtheideaofthatverymuch.

“Emmaline,”Ibreathe.
“Emmaline,” he says slowly. I’ve never heard my name sound so romantic or sweet from anyone

else’slips.“Youneedtogetbacktotheparty.Yourcolleaguesareprobablywonderingwhereyouwent.”

HeknowsIdon’tworkforhim.Istammeroutsomethingandrushfromtheroom,finallyfeelinglikeI

can breathe when I’m back in the hallway. Wow. When Scarlett said he was hot I didn’t think he was
goingtobethathot.I’venevermetamanquitelikehim.Ihurrydownthestairs,headstillspinningasI
descendbackintothethrumofmusicandwrithingbodies.

WhenIfinallyfindScarlettshe’sbreathlessandhaslostthecoatshewaswearingwhenwecamein.

Herskinglistenswithsweatandshe’swearingaperpetualsmile.Thesmilefaltersalittlewhenshesees
thelookonmyface.“Youokay?”sheasksasweslipoutsideintothecoolnightairbesidethepooland
findchairs.

“ImetMr.Steele,”Isay.

“Youmethim?”sheasks.
“Iwalkedintohismasterbedroomashewascomingoutoftheshowerinnothingbutatowel.”The

lookonScarlett’sfacemakesmelaugh.“Nothinghappened!Imean,hedidzipupmydress…”

Scarlett’sjawdropsandshe’slookingatmelikeshe’sseeingmeforthefirsttime.“Shutup!Hedid

not!”

Ibitemylip,grinning.“Hedid.”
“Whythehellwasyourdressunzipped?”
I finish telling her what little else there was to the encounter as the night grows colder and the

intensityofthepartyburnsdowntoembers.Welaughandtalkaboutnothing,andforatleastalittlewhile,
mymindmovesawayfromthedebtandtheproblemsinmyimmediatefuture.I’llbetalkingtoScarlett’s
contact at Club Crave tomorrow morning and possibly starting soon. But that’s a worry for tomorrow.
Tonight, I’m perfectly fine with Mr. Steel dominating my thoughts. I just wish he was dominating more
thanthat.

LOGAN

y driver parks behind Club Crave’s private entrance. I step out of the car, slipping on the simple

leathermaskthatcoversmyeyesandthetopofmynose.EvenbeforeIhadadesiretoprotectmyidentity,
Ialwayschosetowearamaskhere.Thethrillofanonymityandtheextradegreeofcontrolalwaysgave
anotherlayertomyenjoyment.Control.It’swhatdrivesme.It’swhatIthriveon.

Deanisalreadywaitingforme.ClubCraveisasimplebuildingfromtheoutside.Unassuming.Red

brick,blackedoutwindows,andnothingtomarkitasafavoritespotofthefilthyrichandfilthyminded.
Deanwearsamasksimilartomine,butIwouldrecognizewhatlittleIcanseeofhisfaceanywhere.He
smirksatmeandclapsmeontheshoulder.

“Logan Steele is back on the prowl. Women beware,” says Dean. “How does it feel?” he asks.

Something in his tone irks me. It’s a little patronizing, maybe, but I can’t be bothered right now. I have
otherthingsonmymind.

Istraightenmyjacketandtie,fixinghimwithahardglare.I’mnotinamoodtojokeorbanter.I’ve

waitedtoolongforthis.Mybodyhumswithenergy,cockalreadyhardandpulsing.Ihavetogritmyteeth
toholdbacktheanticipation,theburningneedtodominate.IpushpastDean,leavinghimattheentrance.

Theclubisfull,domsandsubsonfulldisplayeveninthelobby.Thewallsaredeepblackpolished

stonemarbledwithwhite.Flickeringredcandlelightilluminatestheroom,castingeverythinginasensual
scarletcolor.Imovepastsecurity,flashingthepinonmylapelthatmarksmeasamember.I’vestillbeen
paying the exorbitant membership fee all these years, despite not knowing if I would ever come back.
Cancelingmymembershipwouldhavefelttoopermanent,andIthinkIalwaysknewIwouldcomeback.

A dom in an expensive suit and leather mask walks by, dragging his sub by the diamond-encrusted

collar wrapped around her neck. She follows, hands folded in front of her submissively. Her dress is
nearlytransparent,andshewearsonlyathinblackthong.Anotherdomisrecliningwhileasubrubsher
smallhanduphisthighandsqueezeshiscock.Ablondestandsandwatchesthemwithalookofirritation.
My guess is he’s punishing her for something, but the sub is doing a poor job of hiding how much her
punishmentisturningheron.

Ibreatheindeeplythroughmynose.Alltheoldheatandenergyofthisplaceseepsintome.WhetherI

findasubornottonight,justbeingbackisgood.I’verepressedthisfortoolong.Ineedit.

IseeDeanpassingthroughthelobbyoftheclub,towardaprettyyoungredheadwearingasleekdress

withdeepcutsupthesidesthatdon’tleaveanythingtotheimagination.Heleansinclose,speakingtoher
softly as she nods her head obediently. When he walks back to me, she follows closely behind him,
keepinghereyesdowncast.

“Newsub?”Iaskhim.
Henods.“Avahasahabitofmisbehaving.Wewerejustestablishingthenewer,morestrictrulesfor

tonight.Iwasveryclearabouttheconsequences,wasn’tI?”

“Yes,Sir,”shesaysmeekly.
Deanfavorsherwithalightdraggingofhisfingertipdownherjawline.Thecornerofhermouthpulls

upinasatisfiedsmile,andDeanhissesinaquickbreath.“Yourassismineforthatlater.”

Hercheeksreddenandshebitesherlip.
Deansighs,shakinghishead,butnotcompletelyhidingthegrinonhismouth.“Trainingthisonehasn’t

beeneasy.”

I nod distractedly, eyes scanning the room. I still remember when I was first introduced to the

lifestyle. I learned early the most important element of a dominant and submissive relationship is
communicationofdesires.Thelinebetweenenjoymentandabuseisaneasyonetocross,andit’salineI
don’ttakelightly.I’vealwaysbeencareful,whichgavemeallthemorereasontobepissedwhenLana
claimedIhadabusedher.

Whatabunchofbullshit.
I’veneverfoundenjoymentincausingpain.WhenIpunishasub,it’snotherpainthatturnsmeon.I’m

drivenbythecompletetrustrequiredforahealthyrelationshipbetweenadominantandhissubmissive.
Whenawomangivescompletetrustandcontroltome,thepowerislikeadrug.AllIwanttodowiththe
powerisexploreherlimitsandbringhertonewlevelsofpleasureshe’sneverfound.That’swhatitisfor
me.JustlikeIenjoypushingmyselftotheabsolutelimitinmybusiness,Iliketobringwomentotheirsin
thebedroom.Iliketowatchthemlearnwhatthey’recapableofandloveeverysecondofit.

ImoveawayfromDeanandhissub,drawntowardayoungwomanneartheedgeofthelobby,where

a dark hallway leads to some of the public pleasure rooms. I can tell from her outfit she’s new and
uncomfortable.Fresh.Thethoughtsendsaburstofpredatoryexcitementthroughme.

She’s talking to Madam Montpierre and nodding her head obediently as the Madam explains

somethinginherslow,elegantway.Islowlymovecloser,earsstrainingtoheartheconversation.

“...will under no circumstances do anything to damage the atmosphere. No matter who you are out

there,hereyouplayarole.Youareasubmissive.Theysay,youdo.”MadamMontpierrepullsawhiteset
ofdanglingearringsfromherbagandhandsthemtothegirl,whotakesthemquestioningly.“Puttheseon.
Theymakeitcleartoourmemberswhatyouareandaren’tcomfortablewith.Whitemeansyou’renewto
BDSMandaren’tinterestedinanyhardbondage,scat,bloodplay,ormostoftheothermoreexotictastes
someofourclientsmayhave.”

Thegirlswallows,turningslightlyandgivingmethefirstclearglimpseofherface.Emmaline?It’s

thesamewomanfrommypartywhowanderedintomybedroom.Fuck.Myalreadyhardcocktwitches.I
wantedherfromthemomentIseteyesonher.Havingherjustafewfeetawayfrommyplayroomwas
almost too much temptation. But if she was an employee like she said, I wasn’t going to risk getting
involved,nomatterhowbadlyImayhavewantedto,eventhoughIwasfairlysureshewasbullshitting
me.

Sheworearelativelymodestdressattheparty,onlygivingmetheslightestglimpseofhercleavage

andthesmoothcurveofherhips.Herclothestonightareequallymodest,andareborderingonoffensively
conservative in this setting. She wears a red dress that’s entirely opaque and only dips slightly in the
chest.Thedressendsafewinchesaboveherknees.

“IthoughtIwasjusthereforshow,”saysEmmaline.Thewayhervoiceisfullofhesitationandfear

makesmewanttoreachoutandputheratease.“Youmakeitsoundlike…”

Madam Montpierre tilts her head slightly. “Our clientele is not accustomed to the concept of

something being out of reach. Our guests typically bring their own partners and will leave you alone
unlessyouareoutofline.Casesofguestswantingmorefromemployeesare…rare,butnotunheardof.”

Emmalinenods,butherchestisheaving.Ilovethewayshegetsbreathlesssoeasily.IfIhadherin

myplayroom,Iwouldblindfoldher,layheroutnaked,andbindhertomybed.Icanimaginehowher

chestwouldheavewithanticipationasIteasedandtemptedher,thewayhernippleswouldhardeninto
nubsforme.Fuck.Ihavetohaveher.

“WhatifI’mnotcomfortable.Imean,whatifoneofthemwantstodosomethingwithmeandIdon’t

wantto?”asksEmmaline.

TheMadamsmilesreassuringly.“You’realwaysincontrol.Rememberthat.Butkeepinmind,we’re

sellingthefantasythatyou’renot.Doyourbesttogoalongwithwhateveraguestwantstothebestofyour
ability.That’sallIask.”

Emmalinenods,lickingherlips.Iwatchherlittlepinktongueflickoverherlushlipsandalmostcan’t

containmyself.Ineedtohaveher.

“What did you mean when you said they would leave me alone unless I got out of line?” asks

Emmaline.

“Like I said earlier, avoid eye contact. Do not move too close to members. Assume submissive

posture.Onlyspeakwhenspokento.AllguestsshouldbeaddressedasSirorMa'amunlesstheyinstruct
youotherwise.”

“Right,”saysEmmaline.
“You’llbefine,honey.Justremember,you’rehereforatmosphereprimarily.Circulatetheroom.Be

responsive when guests engage with you, and relax. Oh, and don’t dress so modestly. You can grab
somethingfromthebackfortonight.Thatdresswon’tdo.”

Emmalinelooksdowninconfusion.Ilovethewayherforeheadwrinkeswithworry.Shetucksher

silkyblackhairoverhershoulderandlicksherlipsnervously.“Okay…”

IwatchasMadamMontpierreleadsEmmalinethroughthehallwayandtowardabackroom.Irealize

Deanhasslidupbesideme.

“Iknowthatlook,”hesays.Hissubisafootbehindhim,eyesdownandhandsclaspedinfrontofher.
“It’sherfirstday,”Isay.
He whistles appreciatively. “She’s sexy in an innocent sort of way too. You may want to move fast

beforesomeoneelsebreaksherin.”

Igrowlundermybreath.
Itrytokeepmymindopenforthenexthour.IletDeantalkmeintowatchingapublicsceneinoneof

theplayrooms.Athin,willowywomanwithblondehairletstwomaskedmenstraphertotheceilingby
herwristsandankles.Theytaketurnswithher,drawingoutherpleasureinchbyinch,makinghershake
with anticipation before they finally plunge inside her. My mind is elsewhere though, and threesomes
neverinterestedme.I’mdrawntotheintensitythatcanonlyexistbetweentwopeople.Twomindslocked
inthedelicateplayofdominationandsubmission,pushingandpullingtoreachtheperfectbalancewhere
pleasure,fear,andpainallbecomeone.

The woman is moaning loudly when I see a flash of gold pass by the hallway outside. I’m up and

followingbeforeDeancansayanythingtostopme.Istepintothehallway,feelingmybreathhitchwhenI
seeher.Emmaline.She’swearingasequinedgolddresswithatransparentcutoutthatgoeswidefromher
shoulder blades to a narrow point just beneath where the crease of her perfect ass begins. My cock
hardensimmediately,alreadyachingpainfullyfromsomuchpentupdesireandnorelease.Imovebehind
her, evaluating how she’s holding her head too high and her back too straight. Too confident. Her eyes
wandertheroomboldly,beggingforsomeonetopullherasideandpunishher.

Shestopsjustinsidethelobbyandturns,eyesmeetingminedirectly.
Someoneneedstoteachheralesson.

EMMALINE

maskedmaninagreysuitandblackundershirtstandsinthehallway,watchingme.Hewearsahalf

maskthatcovershiseyesandpartofhisnose,butIcantellfromthelittleofhisfaceIcanseethathe’s
breathtaking.Thesuitfitshimunbelievablywell,emphasizingthelinesandformofhismasculineframe.
HiseyesboreintomineandIrealizeasplitsecondtoolatethatIwasstaring.Donotmakeeyecontact
oraguestmaydeemitappropriatetopunishyou.MyhandsclenchatmysidesandIslowlyturn,trying
towalkawaybeforehehastimetodecidetopunishmeformyboldness.

I’veonlytakentwostepswhenastronghandgripsmyarm,turningmearound.
He’sstandinginchesfromme,lookingdownwithanunreadableexpression.“Come,”hesayssimply.
Youmayrefuseanyrequestthatmakesyouuncomfortable.MadamMontpierrewasveryclearabout

that,butIfindmycuriosityoverpoweringmyfear.There’sapowertothemoment.Apowertohim.It’s
somethingtangibleandthick.It’sundeniableandasirresistibleasicecoldlemonadeonahotday.

Soforonceinmylife,Idon’tresist.Iletthecurrenttakeme.Ilethimtakeme.
He leads me by the arm down the dark hallway to the back and up the stairs. Toward the private

rooms.Mythroatgoesdry.Whatisheplanning?Iknowthereissecuritystationedthroughoutthebuilding,
andnothingcanhappentomeIdon’twant,buttheknowledgedoesn’tstopfearandpanicfromrippling
throughme.

Hesaysnothinguntilwe’vereachedaprivateroomandsteppedinside.Heclosesthedoorbehindme

and I’m left with nothing to do but take in the scene. Leather straps dangle from a hook in the ceiling.
There’s a table that looks like it came from a chiropractor’s office, a rack of whips, paddles, chains,
handcuffs, and silk ties on one wall. Another wall displays butt plugs, clamps, spreaders, and other
devicesIcan’tbegintoguesswhattheyareusedfor.

Hestepsclosetome,caressingmycheekashetucksastraystrandofhairbehindmyear.Hiseyes

droptomyearrings.

“White,”hesaysthoughtfully.Thewayhisvoiceraspsinmyearlikegravelsendsheatblossoming

frommychesttomycore.It’savaguelyfamiliarvoice,butIcan’tplacewhereI’veheardit.Heexudes
controlandpower,andmybodyrespondstoit.“Someoneneedstoteachyouyourplace.”

Hepauses,andIrealizeit’shiswayofmakingsureIwantthis.He’sgivingmeachancetobackout,

toescape.Icouldsmilepolitelyandslipoutrightnowwithnoharmdone,butIdon’twantto.Thetingle
ofelectricexcitementacrossmyskinhasmemorethancurious.Ithasmehungry.Ialreadyfeelsomething
I’veneverfeltbefore.

“Yes,”Isayquietly.“Someoneshouldteachme.”
HebiteshislipandI’mtransfixedasIwatchhisbottomlipflickbackoutfrombeneaththosewhite

teeth.Iwanttofeelthoselipsagainstmine.Iwanthisheat.

“Redmeansyouwantmetostop,yellowmeansslowdown.Doyouunderstand?”
Safe words. Yes. He’s giving me the safe words. The thought that things might get so intense that I

wouldneedthemsendsafreshjoltofexcitementthroughme.“Yes,Sir.”

“Good.” He moves to the wall with paddles and whips, walking slowly as he drags a finger along

them.Hesettlesonapaddle,unhookingitfromtherackandflippingitonceinhishandbeforenodding
withsatisfaction.“Thiswillserve,”hesays.

HiseyesmeetmineandInod,suckinginlong,raggedbreaths.MyheartpoundsandI’malreadyso

wetIcanfeelitsoakingmypanties.I’veneverbeensoturnedonandhehasbarelyevenlaidafingeron
me.

“Turnaroundandputyourhandsonthewall.”
I find myself obeying without question, as if his words are as strong as his hands, forcing me into

submission.Mypalmsslideupthesmoothwall.I’mstillplayingmentalcatch-up,replayingthelasthours
rapidly,tryingtoputmyfingerontheprecisepointwheremyrelativelynormallifetooksuchastrange
turn.IpushdownthethoughtthatI’msellingmyself.FivegrandaweekandI’mwillingtoenteraprivate
roomwithastrangerandbecometheobjectofhisdesires?

It’snotjustaboutthemoneythough.Moneymayhavegivenmeapushinthisdirection,butthereason

I went through with it was deeper than that. I’ve spent my life watching my relationships fall to pieces
becausesexfeelslikeajoylessexercisetome.WhenScarlettdescribedtheclub,adeeplongingroseup
inme.Adeep,irresistiblecuriositythatIhadtosate.Ineededtoknowifthiswasthemissingpiece.

Mythoughtsarerippedbacktothepresentbythetouchoftherubberpaddlebeingdraggedfrommy

neckdownmyspinetomybottom.Hisfingertipsgrazemythigh,pullingmydressupovertheswellofmy
ass.Goosebumpsprickleacrossmyexposedskin.MyfingertipsdigintothewallandIsqueezemyeyes
shut,bitingmyliphard.I’mputtingmyselfathiscompleteandtotalmercy,lettinghimhavecontrol,andit
feelsgood.Fuck.Itfeelsfantastic.

Hislipsbrushmyneck,hotandwet,makingmegasp.Smack!Ijump,pressingmycheekintothewall

asthecircleofpainpulsesonmyasswherehehitmewiththepaddle.Hesoothinglyrubshishandover
thespot,meltingawaythetingleofpainwithhiswarmth.

“Thatwasformakingeyecontact,”hegrowlsintomyear.
I whimper, fighting back the urge to turn my head and look into his eyes, to kiss his lips. Giving in

feelstoogood.ItfeelssorightthatIdon’twantittostop.

Hishandslipsbetweenmylegs,cuppingmywetpanties.“Sofuckingwet,”hesays,voicefulloflust.

“Youwouldlovetohavemyfatcockinsideyou,butyoudon’tdeserveit.Notyet.You’llhavetolearnto
behavefirst.”

Ihearhimwalkawayandwait,everynerveonmybodytinglinginexpectation.AtfirstIthinkit’sa

tease. I think maybe he’s just dragging this out to make me want it more. It’s working, you beautiful
asshole.

There’s a long pause but I’m afraid to look. Then I hear his quick footsteps pass me and the door

opens.Heleavestheroom,closingthedoorbehindhimandleavingmetrembling,dresshikedupovermy
hips.Istepawayfromthewall,confusedandhurt.

What?
Ifollowafterhim,buthe’salreadyattheotherendofthehallway,steppingdownthestairswhenI

leavetheroom.Ifollowtowardthelobbyandseehimleavingtheclubwithoutlookingback.Hejustleft?
DidIdosomethingwrong?Ispendtherestofthenightsulkingaroundtheclubinahaze,wonderingwhat
Icouldhavedonetomakehimleave.

“I’

NEVER

FELT

like that,” I say to Scarlett as we pack a box full of onsies. This shipment is going to

Florida,anditgivesmechillstothinkmybusinesshasgrownsofaralready.Thosechillsarefollowed
bysomethingvergingonnauseawhenIrealizehowquicklyIcouldcrumblebeneaththeweightofitallif
Idon’tkeepworkingatClubCrave.

Scarlettwhistlesappreciatively.“Damn,girl.”Shejumpsuponatable,nearlylosesherbalance,and

rightsherselfatthelastsecond.Onceshehasherbalance,shecrossesherlegsbeneathherandperches.
Scarletthasadistinctlycatliketendencytowanttositinhigh,hardtoreachplaces.Sheevenadoptsthe
samesmuglookofdisinterestacatwouldwearinherposition.“Iworkedtherealmostamonthbefore
oneofthedomssomuchastouchedme.Ican’tbelievehetookaninterestinyousoquickly.”

“Gee,thanks,”Isay.
Scarlett laughs. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying it’s not normal. You should be

proud.”

“Exceptforthepartwhereherushedoutoftheroomwithoutsomuchasaword?You’resurethat’s

notjustsomenormalBDSMthing?”

“NotthatIknowof,no.You’renotgoingtobackoutofthejob,areyou?”
“No,” I say. As mortifying as it was, being left by the masked man only made me hungrier. Even

talkingaboutithasmewetandthrobbing.IthasbeenthreedaysandIstillhaven’tstoppedthinkingabout
him.“Ineedthemoney.”

“Right,” says Scarlet, seeing straight through my excuse. “The money. Especially if it’s wrapped

aroundMr.MaskedandGorgeous’“fatcock”.”

“Shutup.”
AfterwefinishworkforthedayIstepoutsideandcheckmyphone.Moretextsfrommymomandnow

my dad has been texting me too. I’ve been deleting his texts without even reading them, but I catch the
previewandsee“Pleasecallme.Needtota--”.Ijabthedeletebuttonwithmyfingerwithoutopeningit.
Thehurtfromwhathedidisstilltoorawandfresh.ItisreopeningalltheoldpainfromthedivorceandI
can’t deal with it right now. Maybe I won’t ever deal with it. That would probably be more than he
deserves.

MymomisstillpushingaboutacruiseforherandRonnie.I’mtemptedtojustdigmyselfthatmuch

deeper in loans to give her the money for it and get the stress off my mind. But I ignore her text too,
shovingmyphoneinmypurse.I’vepaidherbackahundredtimesoverforraisingme.Ihelpedpaythe
billsandnevertookanythingfromheronceIwasable.Knowingitdoesn’terasetheguiltandtheneedto
helpheranyway,butithelps.

WhenIlookupfrommyphone,Igasp.
Logan fucking Steel is sitting on the bench outside my building, feet planted wide and looking

gorgeousassin.ItryandfailnottostareasIwalkpast,suddenlysoself-consciousthatInearlyforget
howtowalklikeanormalperson.

He clears his throat, and I falter, daring to turn my head toward him. He’s looking straight at me. I

pause, not knowing what to do until he pats the bench beside him. I stupidly glance behind me, making
surehe’snotlookingatsomeoneelse.He’snot.

Iquietlymovetowardhim,drawntoobeybysomeunspokenpowerinhiseyes.Isit,andthere’snot

enoughroomonthebenchtoavoidmythightouchinghisasIsettleonthecoldbench.

“Itwasn’teasyfindingwhereyouworked,”hesayssmoothly.“OnceIrealizedyouweren’tactually

myemployee,thatis.”

Ilookdown,bitingonesideofmylip.“Whydidyouwanttofindme?”Iaskquietly.
He looks thoughtful, as if he hadn’t even considered his motivations. “You intrigued me,” he says

finally.

SilencehangsbetweenusasI’mlostforwhattosay.Evenifheisgorgeousandwealthy,Ican’thelp

feelingalittleputoff.“Soyoustalkedme?”Imightbeaccusinghimofstalking,butaslittlesenseasit
makes,beingstalkedbyaguylikehimdoesn’thavethesamecreepyvibeitmightfromanotherman.It’s
actuallyturningmeon.

Hequirksaneyebrow.“Callitwhatyouwant,butI’llwalkoutofyourlifeifyouwishit.”
Ifrown.Outofmylife?Whydoestheinnocentphrasesparkdesireinme?Whydoestheideaofthis

manbeinginmylifeappealtomesomuch?“Idon’tknowwhatIwantyet,”Isayeventually.Mymind
goes to Club Crave and the masked man who paddled me, the man who had me dripping wet with
anticipation and desire. I feel a slight pang of unease at accepting Mr. Steel’s attention, but then I
remember how the masked man left me without a word. I didn’t make any commitment to him and he
certainlydidn’ttome.

“ThenmaybeIcanbuyyouacoffee?”suggestsMr.Steel.
I don’t know if I’m driven to accept his offer because the list of reasons to say no is so short or

becauseI’mtryingtogetbackatthemaskedmansomehow,butIaccepthisoffer.

LOGAN

takehertoasmallindependentcoffeeshopandorderheracaramelmocha.Igetmyselfablackcoffee.

Ihadintendedtocomecleanrightaway,totellherIwasthemanfromtheclub.IwantedtotellherwhyI
leftsosuddenly.IwantedtoexplainIhadconflictingfeelingsfromthemessmyexwifemadeandhowit
complicatesthingsforme.Mostofall,IrealizedIwanttomovethingsforwardwithhertherightway.I
don’twantittobecheapandanonymous.IwanthertoknowwhoIam,andIwanttomakesuretheterms
areclearandopenfromthebeginning.Nolies.Noconfusion.Justpleasure.

I’vealreadyfoundmyselfpushingbeyondthepointofcomfort.Revealingthetruthnowwouldbea

betrayal. It would be ugly, and it might jeopardize our already fragile bond. I’m surprised by how
unwillingIamtotakethatriskyet,eventhoughIknowthedamagecausedbywithholdingthetruthwill
onlygetworsethelongerIletthisgoon.

IsmirkovermycoffeeasIwatchhertalkaboutherbusiness.
Hereyesareslightlywidewhileshetalks.Irecognizethelook.Whetherit’scars,computers,sports,

ormovies,everybodyhasapassion.Hersisherbusiness,andIfuckinglovethataboutheralready.

“Ihadtotry,youknow?”sheasks.
Shemustnotdrinkcoffeeregularly,becausethecaffeineseemstobehavingaprofoundeffectonher,

bothopeningherupandrelaxingher.

“I do,” I say. “I leveraged everything I had to build my businesses starting capital. At the time it

seemedlikeanimpossiblyrecklessdecision,butIstoodbyitbecause--”

“Becausethealternativewouldhavebeenworse,”sheinterrupts.Hervoiceisalittlehushed,almost

thoughtful like she’s thinking aloud. She gasps a little and covers her mouth, shaking her head. “I’m so
sorry. I just interrupted you.” She sits up straighter and gestures like she’s zipping up her lips and
throwingawaythekey.

I smirk. “You had better unzip those.” My words hang, the rasp in my voice betraying more of my

internal thoughts than I intended. The flush in her cheeks shows me she didn’t miss any of my meaning,
either.“Becauseyouweremakinganinterestingpoint.”

Sheclearsherthroatandlooksdown,runningherfingerthroughthewater-ringleftbyhercup.“Iwas

goingtosaymostpeopledon’tunderstand.Theydon’tgethowyoucouldriskeverythingforthebusiness
becausetheyimaginehowdevastatingitwouldbetofail.Buttheydon’trealizeitwouldbeworsetolet
theideadie.SometimesIthinkI’dratherloseeverythingthanwatchthepossibilityofwhatmybusiness
couldbeslipby.”Sheshakesherhead.“Sorry.I’mnotmakinganysense,amI?”

“You’re making perfect sense. I feel the same way myself.” The drive she has turns me on like she

can’timagine.Sheremindsmeofmyself.Shelivesandbreathesambition,andthepassionobviousinher
voice and gestures is clear, but she’s also holding something back. Whatever she’s hiding is in the

silencesandthemovementofhereyeswhenshetalksabouthowquicklythecompanyhasgrown.Ican
onlyguess,butifshe’sworkingatClubCrave,shemustbehavingsomekindofmoneytrouble.

“Mycompanyhasanumberofbranchesanddivisions.Oneofourbranchesisafashionline,”Isay.

“Wehavearetailerthatdealsinbabyclothing.I’dbeinterestedtoseesomesamplesofyours.Maybeit
wouldbeagoodfitforourstore.”I’mofferingheraneasyout.Abusinesspartnershipwithmycompany
wouldmeanresourceslikeshecan’timagine.Shewouldhaveallthecapitalshecouldhandletoexpand
andgrow.

Hereyesbulgeandsheleansforward.Mygazedropstoherslightlypartedlipsandthehintofher

pinktongueglisteningbetweenherteeth.Iwanttoleanacrossthetableandpullherintoakiss.Ipush
downthedesireandwatchherexpression,enjoyinghowplainlyshewearsherselfinherfeatures.Inmy
line of work, most men and women have learned to betray nothing in their faces. I could be working
alongsidesomeonewhoplanstostabmeinthebackandhavenoidea.It’srefreshingseeingsomeoneso
open.

Somethingdarksettlesoverherfeaturesandsheshakesherhead.“Ican’ttakeyouroffer.Iappreciate

it,butIcan’t.”

Inodmyhead,expectingasmuch.“Youwanttomakeitonyourownoritwon’tmatter,”Isay.
Hereyesflickuptomine,surprised.
“We’renotsodifferent,”Isay.“Iexpectedyouwouldrefusemyoffer.It’spartofwhatdrawsmeto

you.Youcan’tbebought.”

Iwatchsomethingpassoverherface.Doubt.Guilt.Shame.She’sthinkingaboutClubCrave.
“Idon’tthinkI’mthepersonyouseemtothinkIam,”shesays,standingabruptly.
Istandtoo,grippingherforearm.“Sit,”IsaywithmoreforcethanIintend.TheDominmecameout

inthatmoment.Somethingcracklesbetweenus.Sexualenergy.Recognition.Heat.

Weslowlysitbackdown,eyeslocked.Iseerecognitionfinallysettleintohereyes.“You?”sheasks.

Hercheeksblossomwithred.“You’retheonefromtheclub.OhmyGod,”shecoversherfacewithher
smallhands.

Igentlypullthemaway,forcinghertolookatme.“Ishouldhavesaidsomethingsooner,”Isay.
Sheshakesherhead.“Whydidyouleave?”
Nobullshit.Shecutsstraighttowhat’sonhermind.Iadmirethat.“Iwantedthis,”Isay,gesturingto

the table and to us. “I wanted it to be real. And if I was going to have you, I wanted it to be perfect. I
wanteditmyway.”

Her breath catches and her chest heaves in that way I’ve already come to love and crave. “Your

way?”sheasksquietly.

“Completecontrol,”Isay.“Ihaveparticulartastesandexpectations.Ifweweretobecomeinvolved

itwouldbe…lessthanordinary.”

Shelaughsalittlenervously,shakingherhead.“Idon’tunderstand.”
I’mnotthetypetohesitate,butIdonow.Thedangerofpushingtoofarandlosingherisatthefrontof

mymind.Losingher?Thethoughtmakesmewanttolaugh.She’snotmine.Notyet,atleast.“Iwantto
continuewhereweleftoffatClubCrave.Thisweekend.Willyoubethere?”

“Yes,”shesays.
“Good,”Isay,standing.AthoughtoccurstomeandIstepclosertoher,leaningdownuntilherhair

ticklesmynose.“Youwillwearwhitecottonpanties.Doyouunderstand?”

Shenodsherhead,almostimperceptibly,eyesstillstaringforwardandslightlywide.
Ileavehersittinginstunnedsilence.Itfeelsodd,blurringthelinebetweenatraditionalrelationship

andadominantsubmissiverelationship.ButIhavetokeepthelineclear.Icametodaytogetasenseof
whosheis.It’simportanttomebeforeIcanenjoyexploringhersexuality.Ihavetoknowshe’sastable
mindedperson.Withthatoutofthewaythough,Ineedtocloseoffthatsideofmyselftoher.Thingscan

getcomplicatedinallthewrongwaysifIletthisgettoopersonal.LikeIdidwithLana.

Istepintomycar,thinkingaboutthewaysheagreedtowearthepantiesIrequestedwithoutquestion.

Sheisperfect.Noquestion,nohesitation.Shejustagreed.Ifuckinglovethewayshesubmitstome.For
thefirsttimeinyears,Ifeelaliveagain,reallyalive.

BLINK

theexhaustionfrommyeyes,onlynowrealizingI’vebeenburiedinmylaptopforseveralhours.It

seemslikeforeveragothatImetwithEmmalineforcoffee,eventhoughitwasonlylastnight.Today’s
Tuesday,andIhavetowaituntiltheweekendtoseeheragain.Fuck.Idon’tknowifI’lllastthatlong.
EverytimeIclosemyeyes,Iseethewaygoosebumpsrippledacrossherperfectlyroundass.Iseethe
waythesharpredcircleappearedafterIpaddledher.Shelovedit.Itwasherfirsttimesubmittingtoa
man, I could tell, and she fucking loved every second of it. She was probably wet from the moment I
confrontedher.

Ishift,adjustingmyhardeningcock.Imightnotbeabletowaituntiltheweekendtoseeheragain.
There’sasoftknockatmydoorbeforeLaceysticksherheadinmyoffice.“Logan--”
“Mr.Steel,”Icorrect.
Sheclearsherthroat.“Ofcourse.Sorry.Mr.Steel.Yoursisteris-”
My tall, athletic sister shoulders her way past Lacey. Her brunette hair is pulled back and slightly

dented from the visor she was likely wearing all day. Olivia played tennis through college on a
scholarshipandnowsheownsherowntennisacademy.Asusual,she’swearingatennisdressandsmells
likesunscreen.Sheflashesmeawhite-toothedsmile,ignoringthelookofoffenseonLacey’sface.Olivia
raisesalargebrownbagandsetsitonmydesk.

“I brought you Chinese. My sister senses were tingling and I figured you could use a little

nourishment.”

Igrin.“SoyoubroughtChinese?”
“Isaidmysistersensesweretingling.Ididn’tsayIwasafuckingnutritionist.”
Ichuckle,alreadyfeelingsomeofthestressthisweekhasputonmelifting.“Thanks.”Ireachinside

the bag and find the crab rangoons I know she’ll have bought. Well, it’s more like imitation-crab
rangoons, but there’s a unique satisfaction in eating filthy, processed food that no amount of money can
evercompletelyovercome.

Oliviatiltsherheadslightly,narrowinghereyes.“Youmetsomeone.”
Inearlychokeonthebiteofrangooninmymouth.“What?”Iask.
Shenodsknowinglyasshedigsintosomelomein.“You’reglowinglikeafuckingpregnantwoman.”
“Well,you’reonlyhalf-right.Imetsomeone,yes.ButI’mnotpregnant.I’msorry,youstilldon’tgetto

beanaunt.”ThejokeringshollowafteritcomesoutjustremindsmeofthesonIlostbecauseofLana’s
bullshit.Thankfully,Oliviadoesn’tknowthatpartofthestory.Nooneelsedoes.Nooneelseeverwill.

Shesnorts,allthehardnessinherfacevanishingasshelaughslikeitalwaysdoes.
“Whataboutyou?”Iask.“It’sbeennearlyayearsinceyoueventalkedaboutgoingonadate.Iknow

it’snoteasy,butyoucan’tletwhathappenedwithDerekhangoveryouforever.”Hehelpedherstartthe
academy, but he turned out to be a pervert and cheated on her with a student of his who was barely
eighteen.

Shetakesaparticularlyaggressivebiteofherlomein,barelychewingbeforesheswallowsthewhole

mouthful.“Yeah,wellyou’reonetotalk.”

“Fairenough.Butthepointstillstands.”
“I’mfine.Ihavetheacademy.Ihavemystudents.AndIhavetennis.WhatelsedoIneed?”
Igiveheralevellook,butsaynothing.OliviaandIhavehadanunspokenagreementeversincewe

werekids.We’llcalleachotheronourbullshit,andwe’llpry,butweneverpress.Itmakesforakindof
comfortaroundherIhaveneverquitefoundwithanyoneelseinmyfamily.Icantalkaboutanythingwith
her.

“Can I at least get her name?” asks Olivia after a little time has passed and I’ve moved onto the

teriyakibeefonsticks.

“Emmaline,”Isay,unabletostopthecornerofmymouthfromcurlingupinagrinasIsayit.
“Shemustbesomething.Yousayhernamedifferently.Delicately,andyou’renotexactlythedelicate

type.”

Iscowlather.“Newtopic.”
Shelaughs.“Fine.What’sgoingonwiththecompany?Isawsomethinginthepapersaboutaninsider

leakingsensitiveinformationaboutMr.Steel.What’sgoingon?”

“Whatpaper?”Iask,heartsuddenlypounding.“Whatpaperdidyouseethatin?”
Olivialeansbackalittleatmyintensity.“TheTribune,Ithink.I’mnotsure.”
“Fuck.ItcouldbeLana.No,itmustbeher.She’seithertryingtorampthepressureuponmeorshe’s

justgoingtogothroughwithit.Maybeshethinksshe’llgetmoremoneyifsheleaksherfabricatedstory
tooneofmycompetitors.”

“Imean,otherthanembarrassment,what’sthebigdeal?Soyou’reakinkyfuckerwholikestoplay

withleathermasksanddildos,whatdoesthathavetodowithyourabilitytorunacompany?”

Ilaugh,despitemyannoyance.“YouthinkIplaywithdildos?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I never put much thought into it.” She holds up a hand to stop me from

sayingmore.“AndIdon’tplanto.Nodildos.Gotit.”

“To answer your question,” I say, “the big deal is even though the company isn’t public, I rely on

investors to continue to grow the business. I’m in the middle of a ten year plan for growth, and if that
growthstops,itcouldbecatastrophic.”

“So if your investors think you play with dildos they might be less willing to give you the fifty

quadrillion you need to build another skyscraper, and then you end up penniless and sleeping on my
couch?”

Isigh.“Sure.Ifthatmakessensetoyou.”
OliviaandIfinishourmealwithouttouchingonanyothertopicsmoreseriousthanthenewwayshe

found to add extra kick on her serve or the two students she caught hooking up in the equipment shed.
AftersheleavesandLaceyleavesforthenight,mymindimmediatelyreturnstoEmmaline.Mykitten.I
love the quiet dignity to her that barely masks her playfulness. I can’t stop thinking about how, like a
kitten,Iknowonewrongwordormovecouldscareheroffforgood,butifItreatherright,shewillnever
leavemyside.

It doesn’t seem to matter how much is going on with the business right now. I’ll figure that out, I

alwayshave.MaybeLanawantstoleakshitaboutmetothepublic.Itwillbeafuckingheadacheandalot
oftimeincourt,butI’llhandlethat.Rightnow,allIreallycareaboutisEmmaline,andmakingittothe
nexttimeIgettoseeheragain.

Theexcitementandanticipationthatcomesfromthinkingaboutherismingledwithanolddreadthat

comesfromdeepinmychest.There’sasenseofforeboding,ofaroadbetterleftuntraveled.Andthere’s
thememoryofthesilentvowImadetoneverletmyselfgetclosetoanotherwomanagain.ItrustedLana
with too much, and she showed me what a fool I was for that. What frightens me is after only three
encounters with Emmaline, I can already feel myself becoming consumed by her. I feel the danger of
wanting more than just her submission in the bedroom. Hearing her laughter in the morning from the
kitchenortakinghersomewhereonmyarmsoeveryonecanseeshe’smine…thosethoughtsfeelfar,far
toogood.

Letting the relationship develop outside the bedroom would be dangerous. I’d be giving another

womanthekeystomylifeandtrustinghernottofuckmeover.

Thesexwillhavetobeenough,whetherIlikeitornot.Toomuchridesonmekeepingthecompany

together.Thousandsofpeoplehavejobsbecauseofmybusiness.Tensofthousandsbenefitfromthework
wedothroughouteverybranchofthecompany.Ihuffahumorlesslaugh.Lookatmepretendingmyreal
concern is the wellbeing of everyone else. The heart of it is that I don’t want to fail. I can’t stand the
fuckingthoughtoffailure.I’vebuiltmyidentityaroundsuccessforsolong,anythingelseisunacceptable.

Butwouldn’tlettingEmmalineslipawaybeafailuretoo?

EMMALINE

’montheporchofmymom’strailer,clutchingtheenvelopeinmyhand.Sixhundreddollars.Cash.It

feelssothin,butIknowthesixbillsareintherebecauseIputtheminandtookthemoutsomanytimes.I
lookedonlineandsawtherearecruisessheandRonniecouldaffordforthatmuch,eveniftheyweren’t
thenicest.Ihadtogotooneofthosescammyquickloanbuildingstogetthemoney.Ialreadygotmyfive
thousand from the club, but it went straight to paying the most important bills and to make sure I have
somethingtoeatfortheweek.IthinkI’mpayingthirtypercentinterestonthisloan,butit’llbeworthit
just to get the added stress of my mom out of my life. I raise my hand to knock on her door and pull it
back,suckinginabreath.

Sixhundreddollars.I’mgoingtogetpaidfivegrandaweekifIkeepupmyweekendsatClubCrave.

Ijusthavetokeepitup.Mymoneyproblemswillbebehindme,andI’lljusthavetokeepmynerveand
holddownthejoblongenoughtopaybackallthemoneyIowe.Thatwon’tbehard,Ithinkwithatingeof
guilt.TherehavehardlybeenfiveminutesthathavepassedsincelastweekendwhereIhaven’treplayed
theimagesofmytimeattheclub.Thethrumofthesensualmusic.Thediffusedsconcelighting.Thedeep
redsandblacksofthedecor.

Andhim.
Ifeelachillrunthroughme.It’sstrangethinkingofthethreesidestoLoganI’vealreadyseen.Isaw

him half-naked in his towel; raw and exposed, rough around the edges and hard. I saw him for coffee;
charming, polite, and kind. And then there was the Logan from the club: masked, dangerous, strict, and
absolutelydominant.Mycoreclenchesaroundnothingjustatthememoryofhim.

I’vebeenwithbeautifulmenbefore.I’vebeenwithkindandcharmingmen.Someofthemhavemade

attemptsatdominance,butIcanseeitnowforwhatitwas.Falsebravado.Nothingmore.WhenIwas
within Logan’s power at the club, it was complete. I hung on his every word and breath, waiting to be
commanded,cravinghisorders.EventhoughIhadjustmethim,Ifeltcompletelysafeinhiscontrol.

Ihaven’tbeenabletoputmyfingeronexactlywhathasmesodrawntotheexperience,butmaybe

that’sit.Iwasabletogivemyselfovertosomeoneandfeltcompletetrustinthesubmission.Thefreedom
ofknowinghewasreadytoexploremylimitsandboundaries.Theexperiencewasthrilling,butbeneath
thethrillandapprehensionwasadeepersenseoftrustandacceptance.MaybeI’mimaginingitallafter
thefact.Ifeelsillyputtingsomuchstockinafiveminuteencounter,butstupidornot,Ican’tchangethe
wayIfeel.

ItcouldbethatalifetimeofthepeopleIcaremostaboutbetrayingmytrustslowlypoisonedme.It

made me numb. But this new kind of relationship Logan has introduced me to isn’t just about pain and
domination.Thedeep,all-encompassingkindoftrustrequiredtosubmitsocompletelyislikearelease
forme.It’stoosoontoknowwhyorhow,butIthinkbeingwithLogancouldbegoodforme.Itcouldbe

exactlywhatI’vebeenneeding.

Ifeelsexuallyawakeforthefirsttimeinmylife.Ifeelreadytobetaken,dominated,andused.Idon’t

evencarehowdirtythatis,orhowmuchitmakesmesoundlikeawhore.Ihavesufferedthroughenough
traditionalrelationshipsandenoughtraditionalsextoearntherighttotrysomethingnew.

IrealizeI’mstillstanding,handpoisedtoknock.Isuckabreaththroughmyteethandgetitoverwith,

rappingmyknucklesagainstthedoortwotimes.Iwait,hearingtherattleofemptycansandplasticbags
rustlefrominsidethesmalltrailer.

Ronnieswingsthedooropen.He’stall,butnotastallasLogan,andnotnearlyasbuilt.He’slanky

except for the beer belly pressing through his stained wife-beater. The smell of beer and stale sweat
emanates from him, making me want to plug my nose. Like my mom, he has the look of a former high
schoolstarwhopeakedearlyandhasonlygonedownhillsince.Hestillhasstrongfeatures,buthisonce
powerfuljawlinesagsandhishairiscreepingbackfromhisforehead.Hewearsadarkexpressionuntil
heseesitsme.

“Emmaline,”hesays,smilingwide“Comein.”Hekicksarippedtrashbagthat’sleakingliquidoutof

thewayandgesturesformetostepinside.

“Actually,I’minalittlebitofahurry.Ismymomhome?”
“Who’sthatRonnie?”asksmymomfrominside.
“Get your ass out here!” Ronnie yells, voice full of sudden anger and annoyance. I hate the way he

talkstoher.Mydadwasalwaystimidwithher,andRonniecouldn’tbeanymoredifferent.Hetreatsher
likeoneofthetrashbagslitteringtheflooroftheirtrailer,andsheletshim.Maybeitwashermisguided
wayofgettingbackatmydadforleaving.Maybeshethoughtthemoremiserableshemadeherself,the
moreguiltyhewouldfeelforleaving.Sheshouldhaveguessedhewouldn’tcare.

My dad was indifferent to anything but his own best interests. Most men quickly learn to put

themselvessecondwhentheystartafamily.Momalwayssaidthatpartofmydad’sDNAwasmissing.I
stillrememberwhenhestolethesixdollarsMarkhadspentweekssavingup.Markwantedtobuysome
stupidpackofcardsbecauseallhisfriendswereintothat.Butdadusedthemoneytobuybeer.Orhowhe
spentyearspromisingmeacarformysixteenthbirthdayandIlearnedheendedupusingthemoneytoget
himselfamotorcycleinstead,whichhecrashedamonthlater.IfIhadknowntherewasawayforhimto
gethishandsonmytrustfund,Iwould’veguessedhe’dstealitalongtimeago.Iwasdumbenoughtolet
afewquickGooglesearchesanswerthequestionaboutwhetherhewouldhaveaccess.

Mymomemerges,hairindisarray.Shequicklytiestherobeshe’swearing,eventhoughit’sfourinthe

afternoon.Hereyesgostraighttotheenvelopeinmyhand.Shelightsacigaretteandclampsitbetween
herwrinklinglips,reachingtograbtheenvelopefromme.

It’shardtoseehernow.Itwasn’tthatlongagowhenwewerealltogether.Itwasneverperfect.It

wasn’tevenclose,buttheyearshavenotbeenkindtomymother,theformerhomecomingqueen.Nowher
once smooth skin is speckled with spots and fine lines. Her fingers are almost skeletal, stained yellow
between forefinger and middle finger from the cigarette that’s always jammed there. If she stopped
smoking for two weeks, she could probably afford the vacation on her own. It’s an ugly thought and I
pushitdown.

Mymomdoesn’tdeserveanykindnessfromme.Iknowthat.Idon’tdoitoutofweakness.I’mdoing

itformyself,toproveI’verisenabovethepathshelaidoutforme.Ifmymomgetsherwayandthinksshe
pulledoneoveronme,sobeit.Icanbeabovethat.Icanletitnotmattertome.Shetucksastrandofher
straw-dryblondehairbehindherear,lickingherlips.

SheandRonniebothleanoverit,tearingitopenlikekidsonChristmas.Mymom’seyeslightupwhen

sheseesthebills,butshepullsthemoutandcountsthroughthemtwice,foreheadcreasing.

“Sixhundred?That’sall?”sheasks.
TheshowofgoodhumoronRonnie’sfacefadesasheroundsonme.“That’sallfamilyisworthto

you,Emmaline?”

Itakeadeep,slowbreath,pushingdownthefirstwordsthatthreatentospillout.Ungrateful.Bitch.

Bastard.Ifocusonthedecisionthatledmetodothis.Thisisforme.Itdoesn’tmatterhowtheyrespond
toit.“There’sacruisetotheBahamasleavinginamonth.Ifyoubookitthisweek,it’sonlyfivehundred
andseventydollars.Withtax.You’dhavesomeextramoneytheretogetafewdrinksonboard.”

Mymom’sfacesaysitall.It’snotenough.It’snotwhatshewanted,andshe’sdisappointed.Asmuch

asmyintentionsweresetondoingthisforme,thelookonherfacebreaksthroughmyresolve.Ifeela
swellofemotionrisingup.Sadness.Anger.Itwouldbeonethingifshehadbentoverbackwardstotake
careofmemywholelife.Instead,sheandmydadbothtookturnsscrewingmybrotherandIovertoget
themselvesastepahead.Icanthankherforkeepingmealive,buteventhatfeelslikeastretchwhenit
seemslikehersolemotivationwasthehopethatI’dbealifelineshecouldclingto.

Somethinginsidemesnaps.Allmygoodintentionsevaporateinaninstant.Ireachoutandgrabthe

moneyfromher.“Fine.Ifyoudon’twantit--”

Myvisiongoesblindingwhiteassomethinghardcollideswithmyface.Iblinkthroughtheconfusion

andfeelapulsingpainexplodeinmycheekandmyhead.I’mlyingonthefilthycarpet,sideways.Ronnie
standsoverme,handstillacrosshisbodyfrombackhandingme.Mymomkneelsbesidemeprotectively,
glaringupathim.

“YoufuckingtouchmydaughteragainandI’llkillyou!”sheshouts.
“Watch.Your.Fucking.Mouth,”hesaystoher,fingerstabbingperiodsbetweeneachwordintheair

asheadvancesonher.

“Mom.Comeon,”Isay,strugglingtogetbacktomyfeetandpullingather.
Shestands,shovingmeoutthedoorandlockingitbehindme.Itwasallablur.Itcouldn’thavebeen

morethantenseconds.I’moutside,thechillyairbitingatmyskin.She’sintherewithhim.Itugonthe
doorknobasIhearthetwoofthemshoutingatthetopoftheirlungsandplatesbreaking.

It’snotthefirstcaseofdomesticabuseI’vewitnessed,notbyalongshot,butit’sthefirsttimeRonnie

hasactuallyputhishandsonme.Iwalktomycarslowly,stunnedandhurt.Mywholefaceisthrobbing
painfully,andIcan’tstopthetearsthatstreamsilentlydownmycheeks.I’mstillshakingwithragewhenI
getinmycaranddialthepolicetoletthemknowtheyneedtocomeouttothetrailerpark.Iwishitwas
thefirsttimeIhadmadethatcall.Ispeakinlow,flattonesandhangupwhentheoperatortellsmetowait
onthescene.

I know Scarlett will be at the office working on the design for a new series of milestone onesies

we’re planning, so I drive straight there. It’s a short drive from the trailer park, but I spend the entire
drive buried in thought, face still throbbing from where he hit me. I avoid looking in the rearview to
assessthedamage.

AmIsosexuallyfuckedupbecauseI’veonlyeverwatchedmymombeadoormatwithmen?Firstshe

stoodbywhilemydadgambled,drank,andwastedallourmoney.Nowthis.MystomachclencheswhenI
realizehowturnedonthethoughtofLogandominatingmemakesme.WhydoIwantsomethingsocloseto
the shit I see my mom getting put through? It makes me sick to see Ronnie mistreating her, and yet the
thoughtofgoingbacktoClubCravehashadmegiddyallweek.Itstilldoes.

Irunahandthroughmyhair,notlettingthefreshwaveoftearsthatthreatentocomefall.Idon’tknow

if I’m going to be able to enjoy it the same way this weekend. Knowing my fantasy may have roots in
somethingIhatesomuch…Itfeelswrong.

And yet I don’t think Logan Steel would be so interested in me if it wasn’t for our encounter at the

club. I don’t know how he’ll react if I’m not able to bring myself to submit to him again, but I have a
strong feeling it won’t be good. I’m not sure whether the idea of him walking out of my life scares me
morethantheideaofgivingintothispervertedfantasyofmine,butI’mgoingtohavetomakeadecision
onewayoranotherthisweekend.

LOGAN

stepinsideClubCrave,barelyabletocontainmyneed.Shewillbehere.EversinceIdecidedtolook

forasubagain,I’vefeltasenseofhungerthatwassteadilygrowinguntilImetEmmaline.Sheignitedit,
andnowitswirlswithinmelikesomethingwildanduntamed,threateningtoexplodeatanymoment,to
shatter my poise. An animalistic urge within me makes me want to throw her down and take her the
momentIseeher,tofeelherlushcurvesandtopressmyselfinsideheruntilmoansspillfromherlips.

Butthat’snothowIwantthistoplayout.
The anticipation is almost as enjoyable to me as the act itself. I also feel a sense of hesitation I’ve

neverexperiencedbefore.It’snotthatI’munsure,it’sthatI’mnotwillingtodoasinglethingtohurtor
scareEmmaline.Therelationshipbetweenadomandsubisbasedontrustandmutualenjoyment.Some
domsliketoturntheirsubsintogirlfriends.Theyblurthelinebetweensexandtheheart.IalwayssworeI
wouldn’tfallintothattrap.ThenIletLanain.ItrustedherandI’vebeenpayingforiteversince.

KeepingEmmalineatarm’slengthshouldbemygoal.I’velearnednottogetattachedathousandtimes

over, and yet here I am, teetering on the edge of crossing the line again. I’ve been trying to convince
myselfthepowerofmyattractiontoherisonlybecauseI’vebeenawayfromthislifestyleforsolong.
I’vebeensexuallystarved,andshe’sthefirstmorselI’velaideyesoninyears.

WhenIsawheritwaslikegettinghitinthechestwithasledgehammer.Nootherwomanintheclub

cameclosetohavingthesameeffectoneme.Ihadtohaveher.Andgettingatasteofwhatshehadtooffer
onlymademethatmuchhungrier.SoIdecidedtomeetheroutsidetheclub,maybehopingIwouldlearn
shewasjustsomevapid,moneyhungrywoman.Instead,Ifoundsomeonedriven,strong,andadmirable.
Eventhoughshewouldn’ttellmethedetails,Icouldtellshehaspushedthroughmoreadversitythanmost
peopledoinalifetime,andshe’sstillstrivingformore.

Icrackmyneck,blinkingmyeyesafewtimestotrytofocusmythoughtssomewherelessdangerous.I

call up an image of her perfectly round ass and the way goosebumps rose across her skin. My cock
hardens immediately. I remember watching the red blossom from where I paddled her. From when I
punishedher.

Ineedtofindher.
I move through the lobby slowly, swiveling my head as I search her out. I see the lobby is more

deserted than usual, and I notice the few couples remaining are also heading towards one of the play
rooms.Ifollow,curious,butstillintentonfindingEmmaline.ApoundingbeatreachesmyearsasIstep
intothehallway.Insidetheplayroom,themusicwashesoverme.It’sheavy,thick,andsexual.

Theroomisfull.Domsinmasksandsubsinoutfitsrangingfromsheerdresses,leatherspandex,and

lingerie lounge and sprawl on the couches and seats filling the room. It’s too much to take in with one
look.A sea offlesh. Bodies movetogether in slow concert,hands working, hips,moving slowly to the

heavybeatofthemusic,andmouthspressedagainsteachother.Somesubspleasuretheirdomswhilethe
domslooktowardastagesetupatthefarendoftheroom.

There’sawomanstrappedtotheceilingbythreeleatherstraps.Twoarearoundherthighsandoneis

loopedbehindhershoulders.Herfaceistowardtheceilingandherneckisthrownbackluxuriouslyas
she moans. Bright lights illuminate her and the three strong men circling her, making even the smallest
blondehairsonherbodyglowwithlight.Allfourpeoplearecompletelynaked.Oneofthemenrunshis
fingersdownthelengthofaleatherwhipheholds.Hecracksitagainsttheground,testingitsweightand
eyeingthewomanmeaningfully.Sheflinches,grittingherteethinanticipation.

Twoofthemenstopateithersideofher,plungingtheirmouthsdownagainsthererectnipples,biting

andsuckinguntilshestrainsagainstherbonds,moansescapingthroughherclenchedteeth.Themanwith
the whip skillfully brings a blow down against her thigh. Her body jerks and her moans grow louder. I
noticethewaythemanwieldingthewhiponlyhitshardenoughtobringthebloodtothesurfaceofthe
skinandleaveatemporaryredline.Nobrokenskin,noblood.Nolastingharm.Itmakessensethathe
knowswhathe’sdoing,ortheClubwouldn’thaveallowedhimtotakepartinademonstration.

“Prettyhot,isn’tit?”asksDean.
Iturnmyheadslightly,realizingI’vebeenstandinginthedoorwayforoveraminutejustwatching.

“Notmystyle,”Isay.

Hesniffs.“Thenyou’reoutofstyle,Logan.Idon’tseewhat’snottolike.”
His sub is at his side, head bowed obediently, even though I can see in her body language that she

wantstolooktowardthestage.Hehastrainedherwellalready.

“It’sjustnotforme,”Isay.“Ilikethingstobemore…personal.”
Heshakeshishead.“Itdoesn’tgetmuchmorepersonalthanthat.”
“You’d be surprised,” I say. I finally find Emmaline. She’s at the far end of the room, watching the

displayonstagewithafurrowedbrowandconfusionwrittenalloverherfeatures.“Excuseme,”Isay,
pushingpastDeanandmovingthroughtheroomtowardher.

Imakesuremymaskisstillproperlyinplaceoncemore.Manyofthemembersknowmyidentity,but

thereareoftennewwomenbroughtintofillroles.Asmuchastheclubtriestoguaranteeanonymityifwe
wishit,anon-disclosureagreementisstilljustapieceofpaper.Ifmyinvolvementinthisclubleakedto
thepublic,itwouldundoalltheworkI’veputintocleanupmyimage.Allthemorereasontostayaway
fromEmmalinenowthatI’verevealedmyidentitytoher.

I move behind her, leaning close until my lips are only inches from her ear. “You’re staring,” I say

chidingly.

Shejumps,suckinginaquickbreathassheturnsawayfromthedisplayonstagetofaceme.Hereyes

meetmineandthensheremembersatthelastsecondtolookdown,assumingasubmissiveposture.

“Doyouliketowatch?”Iask.
Sheshakesherhead.“I-Idon’tknow.”
“Sir,”Iadd.
“Sir,”shesays.
Itakeherin,fromthewayherhairiscurledintoperfectringletsthatfalloverherbareshouldersto

the way her golden skin glistens in the dim light. She wears a strapless dress that presses into her tits,
pushingintohersoftskinandmakinghertitspillowupwards.ThedressclingstightlyenoughtoherthatI
canseetheslightestcurveofherstomachandtraceitdowntotheraisedmoundofherpussy.

Iforcemybreathingtoslow.I’mtheoneincontrol.Nomatterhowmuchthemeresightofherturns

mewild.I’mincontrol.

“Come,”Isay.
Shehesitates.
Isuckinairthroughmynose,feelingmynostrilsflare.I’minadangerousstateofmind.Iwantthisso

badly I don’t know if I can control myself like I need to. Seeing her think about disobeying me has me
dreamingupwaystopunishher.Everypossibilityendswithherscreaminginpleasure,bodyshakingwith
orgasm.

Emmalinelicksherlipsandlowersherhead,clutchingherhandsinfrontofherstomachandmoving

tofollowme.

Igrindownather.“That’sgood,Kitten,”Isay,smirking.Mysmirkwidenswhensheshowsnosignof

beingirkedbythepetname.Givingittoherispartofmarkingherasmine,andIwanttodoeverythingI
cantomakeitabundantlyclearsheisexactlythat.Mine.

IleadEmmalinetowardthehallwaywhereIcantakeherupstairsandfindaprivateroom,butIslow

mypacebeforeweleavetheroom.Iturnslightly,lookingagainatthestageandthinkingofthewayshe
waswatchingwhenIfoundher.Iwouldrathertakehersomewhereprivate,butIdon’tknowifIcould
controlmyselfrightnow.IwanthersofuckingbadIcan’tbesureIwouldstopatherlimits.Ican’tbe
sureIwouldn’tfindthemandkeeppushingpast.

Fuckit.I’lltakeherhereinthisroom.Istopandshebumpsintomyback.Iturntowardher,lovingthe

wayhereyesarewidewithfear.Evenwhilefeariswrittenalloverherface,shestillrunshereyesdown
mybodyhungrily.Shewantsitsobadly.She’ssuchanaturalsubmissive,Icanhardlybelieveshe’snever
beentrainedbefore.

“This way,” I growl, leading her toward the back of the room. I briefly consider making her stand

directly in front of the stage, but I want to test her limits, not shatter them. I pin her to the back wall,
pressingmychesttohersandbendingmynecktowhisperinherear.“You’vemisbehaved,Kitten.You
werewatchingthewomanonstagegetfuckedbythosemen.Andyoulikedit,didn’tyou?”

Shegasps,squirmingslightlyagainstme.“Yes,”shebreathes.
Ibitemylip.“Thenyou’regoingtowatchthemwhileIfingerfuckyou.Anddon’teventhinkabout

cumming.Doyouunderstand?”

“Yes,Sir.”
“Wheredoyouwantthis?”Iask,holdingmyhanduptoherface.Theroomisdark,butInoticeher

makeup is a little thicker than usual, especially on one side of her face. If I wasn’t so turned on, I’d
probablygiveitmorethought,butthehungerinherfeaturesquicklydistractsme.

Shelooksatit,eyesfulloflust.
“Showme,”Isay.
Herchestheaves,andasmuchasIwanttotaketwohandfulsofherperfecttits,Irefrain,waiting.
“Don’tmakemerepeatmyself,Kitten,”Iwarn.
I see her eyes moving around the room, taking in the dozens of couples and the moaning woman on

stage. She’s nervous, but she has no reason to be. None of them are even looking our way. It’s just a
mentalbarrier,oneshelikelyhasn’tthoughtoftesting.

A tight ball of excitement grows in my chest. I had almost forgotten how much I loved bringing a

willingsubtoherlimits.WatchingEmmaline’seyeswhilesheinternallybattlesherdirtydesiretoletme
finger fuck her in a room full of people and her desire to do the modest thing is almost better than
cumming.

Her hand tentatively rises to my wrist and she gently tugs, but I’m merciless, and I resist slightly,

makingherpulllikeshemeansit,practicallybeggingformyhandbetweenherlegs.Shepullsharder,face
scrunchingslightlywiththeeffort.IdragmyfingerdownherchestandstomachasIletherleadmyhand
where she wants it. I trace a line down her thigh, finding the hem of her short dress and then reversing
directionasshedirectsme.Iusemyfreehandtopinherhandsoverherhead.

Imovemyhandupherdress,cuppingtheinsideofherthighandfindingherhot,wetslitthroughthe

pantiesshewears.Cottonpanties,andIwouldbetmoneytheyarewhite,justlikeItoldhertowear.

“YouworetheonesIaskedyoutobecauseyouknewIwouldseethem.Didn’tyou,Kitten?”

Sheswallowshard,noddingherhead.Notgoodenough.Iwanttohearhersayit.
“Didn’tyou?”Iraspinherear.
“Yes,Sir.Iworethemforyou.”
Fuck.Mycockthrobslikeit’sabouttoexplode.Shehasnoideawhatshe’sdoingtome.
“Youknewyouweregoingtoletmebetweenyourlegstonight.Didn’tyou?”
Shenods,whimperingashereyessqueezeshut.
“You’vebeenthinkingaboutitallweek.Haven’tyou?”
“Yes,”shegaspsasmyfingertipfindsherclit.“Yes,Sir.”
Itakemytimeenjoyingthewayshefeelsthroughthepanties.Icupherass,myhandpressedtightto

herbythetightnessofherdress.Ihikethedressupoverherhips.IfeelherstiffenslightlyasIdo,soI
lowerthedressbackdown,makingsureshe’snotsofaroutofhercomfortzonethatshedoesn’tenjoy
herself.Everybitofthisisforher.Pushinghertoofarwoulddefeatthepurpose.

I palm her pussy, moving in slow passes across her sensitive skin, absolutely loving the way her

cottonpantiesaresoakedandstickingtoher.Iwantnothingmorethantodrivemyfingersinsideherright
now,andthenplungemycockinhertighthole.Notyetthough.Restraint.AwomanlikeEmmalineisa
once-in-a-lifetimetypeofsubmissive,andrushingthingswouldbecriminal.

Ilookdowntohereyesandseetheyareclosed.“Openyoureyes,”Isay.“Youwantedtostare,so

nowyou’llstare.”

Sheopenshereyes,staringtowardthestagelikethegoodlittlesubsheis.Imovemyhandinsideher

panties,passingoverhermoundandfindingherwetslit.ShesucksinabreathandholdsitwhenIfindher
clit.

“Youonlygettocumwithme.Alone,”Iwhisperinherear.“You’remine.Justlikeyourorgasmsare

mine.Ifyoucumwithoutme,I’llknow.”

Shenods,eyebrowspullingtogetherineffortasshetriestoholdbackthepleasure.
Iworkhermercilessly,circlingherclitwithmythumbasIplungetwofingersintoheropening.She’s

so fucking tight. Her pussy clenches around my fingers. I curl my fingers back, finding her G-spot as I
workherclit.

“Doyoulikethat,Kitten?”Iask.
“Yes,”shemoans.
Ismirk.“Careful.Ifthosemoansgetmuchlouderyoumightdrawabiggercrowdthanthewomanon

thestage.”

Shepressesherfaceintomychesttostiflehermoans.
“Eyesonthestage,”Iremindher.
Shepullsherheadback,thestruggleofholdingbackherpleasurealloverherface.I’mtemptedto

keepgoing,tomakeherfailjustfortheexcusetopunishheragain.Iwouldifshewasn’tobeyingmeso
well.Icanseehowhardshe’strying,soIfinallypullmyhandback,lettingmyfingersslideoutofher.
HermouthopensandshequiversasIleaveher.Sheleansforwardslightly,bothrelievedandregretting
theabsenceofmytouch.Iraiseonewetfingertomymouthandsuckhersweetnessoff,meetinghereyes
asIdo.Iraisetheotherfingertoherlipsandwatchasshetakesitinlikeagoodgirlandsucksitclean.
Herlipsandtonguearesohotandsoftaroundmyfinger.Icanonlyimaginehowgoodshewouldfeelon
mycock.Idon’tthinkI’llbeimaginingforlong.

EMMALINE

followLoganoutofthecrowdedroom,legsstillweakandheadstilllight.Thethumpingmusicofthe

room fades as he takes me through the hallway lined with rooms and up the stairs. I can’t believe how
closeIwastocumming.Icouldhave.Icouldhaveactuallycamewithamanforthefirsttimeinmylife.
AllIhadtodowasstopholdingbackthewave,buthewouldn’tletme.

Icouldfeelhishugecockpressingintomeashefingeredme.I’veneverwantedanythingasbadasI

want to feel it inside me, stretching my walls. Logan is a real man. He’s powerful, confident, and he
knowshowtogivemewhatIneed.Ididn’tknowhowbadlyIwanted…no,neededthatuntilhim.Now
thatIhaveatasteofit,I’mpracticallystarvingformore.

All thoughts of decency, my worries about the business, problems in my personal life, and the way

thingswithRonnieandmymotherarequicklydeterioratingarepushedintothedeeprecessesofmymind.
Logan’spresenceleavesnoroomforanythingelse,andit’sadistractionmorewelcomethanwordscan
describe.

Heleadsmeintoaroomthat’selegantlydecorated.Afour-posterbedtakesupmuchofthespace,but

thereareracksoftoysandtoolsforpunishmentliketherewereintheroomhetookmetolastweekend.
My skin tingles at the memory, and I hope with all my being that he doesn’t dismiss me again without
bringingmethesatisfactionIsodesperatelyneed.

Inashortperiodoftime,beingwithLoganhasalreadybecomemorethansomethingsimplysexual.

It’sanemotionalstepIdidn’tknowIneededtotake,butnowthatit’sinfrontofme,I’lldoanythinginmy
powertokeepit.

Hepacesinfrontofme,powerfulbreathsmakinghisbroadchestriseandfall.Icanalmostfeelhis

ownneedtotakeanddominateme.Iwanttojusttellhimto,butIknowthatwouldn’tbemyplaceashis
submissive.Hissubmissive.IfindmyselfaskingthequestionatthefrontofmymindbeforeIhavetimeto
stopmyself.“AmIyours?”Iask.

He pauses in his pacing, eying me through his dark mask. He seems to hesitate with his choice of

wordsbeforehefinallyspeaks.“Youcanbe.Ifyouwishit.”

Thepromisehangsbetweenus,almostlikesomethingtangibleIcouldreachoutandtouchifIwanted

to.“Ido,”Isayquietly,almostinawhisper.

“Then you need to understand my rules. If you’re to be mine, I can’t have you disobeying. Do you

understand?”

I stand somewhat awkwardly, still just inside the room while he looms between me and the bed,

watchingmecarefully.“Ithinkso.Yes.”

“Yes,Sir,”hecorrects.
“Yes,Sir,”Isay.

“Good.Themostimportantthingforyoutounderstandisthatyouaremineonlyaslongasyouwishto

be.Ifyouwishtobereleased,youonlyneedtosayso.However,ifyouleave,youleave.Wewillpart
waysandthatwillbetheendofourrelationshiptogether.”

“Relationship?”Iask.“Sorry,”Isayquickly,realizingI’veinterruptedhim.
“Noneedtoapologize.Iwanttomakesureyou’reextremelyclearaboutthetermsofourarrangement

beforewetakeitfurther.Yes.Thisisarelationshipofsorts.Itwillbemoreintensethananyrelationship
you’vepreviouslybeenin.Itwillbemoreinclusive,moreintimate.Itwillbemore.Whenwe’retogether,
youwillbemine.Heart,body,andsoul.YouwilldoasIsaywhenIsayit.Youwillplacecompletetrust
inmeandknowthatmydesireistoexplorethelimitsofyourfantasies,butnottopushyoubeyondthose
limits.AftertodayI’llhaveadocumentdraftedforyoutosignsothatIcanhaveabetterideaofyourhard
andsoftlimits.Beyondthat,ourrelationshipwillbebasedentirelyontrust.”

I frown. “This feels so formal.” Some of the sexual excitement has drained from me, even though

there’s still a faint throb in my core. What he proposes sounds so different than anything I’ve ever
imagined.I’movercomebyapowerfulsenseofcuriosityandtentativeexcitement,butitalsoscaresme.It
soundslikehecouldhurtmeifhetookadvantageofmytrust,justlikeRonniehurtsmymom.

Hestandsmotionless,loominglikeanangrygodwhilehewaitsformyresponse.Trust…Theword

keepsrepeatinginmythoughts.Arelationshipcompletelybuiltontrust?Iwanttoagreetoit.I’mdrawn
totheidea,evenasIknowthere’snowayIcouldcompletelytrustsomeoneelse.Mylifehasbeenalong,
never-endinglineofbetrayals.Trustonlyleadstopain,andI’mnothereformorepain.I’mhereforthe
money,andI’mhereforthechancetoexperiencesomethingI’vebeenmissingmyentirelife.IfIhaveto
tellhimwhathewantstoheartogetthat,I’mnotproudofit,butI’lldoit.Ijusthavetohopethattrust
comes with time, because I can’t stand the thought of watching Logan walk away. Not now. Maybe not
ever.

“Itrustyou,”Isay.
Thesmilethatslowlyspreadshislipsisnotkind.It’sfullofpromiseanddarkness,andI’mashamed

byhowmuchthatthrillsme.

“Getonthebed.Lieonyourback,”hesays.Hisvoiceishard.Emotionless.
Isteptowardthebedalittlehesitantly.
“Stop.”
Ifreeze.
“Takeoffyourclothesandyourbra,butleaveyourpantieson.”
Iswallow,closingmyeyestogatherthecouragetodothis.It’snothardthough.Mybodyhasnever

feltlikethis.Icanpracticallyfeeleverynervetinglingwiththeexpectationofhistouch.Mycorefeels
likeavoidandtheonlythingthatwillbringmesatisfactionrightnowistohavehisthickcockplunged
insideme.

Idoashesays,strippingmyclothesoffquicklyatfirstandthenrealizingheprobablyexpectedmeto

undress sexily. I force myself to slow, unhooking my bra as seductively as I can while I peek over my
shouldertoseeifhe’swatching.Icatchhiseyesandthewaytheyareroamingmybody,takingmein.And
Icatchtheoutlineofhiscockagainsthisexpensiveslacks.Iletmybrafalltothefloorandstepoutofthe
dresspooledatmyfeet,climbingonthebed.

“Shoes,”hesays.
Ikickthemoffandwait,sprawledoutandcompletelyexposedasheapproaches.I’mself-conscious

ofthewetspotonmypanties,butwhenherunsahanddownthelengthofmybody,seemingtocherish
everylastinchofmyskin,lingeringonmywetpanties,IknowIdon’tneedtobeself-conscious.Ifeel
likeaprize,laidoutlikesomethingpreciousandvaluable.It’sthewayhelooksatmeandtouchesme.It’s
impossiblenottofeelspecialwhenhisattentionisfocusedonme.

“Iwillgiveyoutheorgasmyouwant,butIhavetopunishyoufirst.Youmademecomefindyou.I

expectyoutofindme.Doyouunderstand?”

Inodmyhead,eagerforhimtodowhateverhe’sgoingto,aslongasitendswithhiminsideme.
Hemovestotherackoftoys,runningahandalongthemandwatchingmeashedoes,likelyjudging

my reactions to see which tool I would prefer him to use. I flinch a little when he moves past a three-
tailedwhip.IonlyhaveahazyideaofwhatIreallywantsexually,butIgettheimpressionLoganhasan
evenbetterideathanIdoaboutwhatwouldbringmethemostpleasure.

HereachestheleatherpaddleandIbitemylip,rememberingwhenhepunishedmelastweek.Istill

remember how I held on to the slight tenderness in my ass the following day and loved it every time
becauseitwasareminderofwhattranspiredbetweenus.

Heunhooksthepaddle,nevertakinghiseyesfrommeasheapproaches.Withoutevenlooking,herips

astripofsilkfreethatwastiedtothebedpost.

“Onyourstomach,now,”hecommands.
Iobeywithoutquestionthistime.Thepowerofhisvoiceandtheintensityinhiseyesaloneallowfor

noresistance.

Hesetsthepaddledownlongenoughtotiemyhandstoahiddeneyehookattachedtothebedframe

behindme.HegrabsanotherpieceofsilkandtiesmyanklestothepostsatthefootofthebeduntilI’m
heldtightlyinplace,armsabovemyheadandlegsspread.

Trust.
ItoccurstomehowmuchtrustI’mplacinginthismanIbarelyknow.I’mcompletelyathismercy,and

I’veneverbeenmoresexuallyalivethanIaminthisexactmoment.Goosebumpsriseacrossmybody,as
ifinpreparationfortheblowtocome.

“Thisisformakingmecomefindyou,”hesays.
Whack!
Ijoltagainstthesilkholdingmetothebed.Hotpainspreadsinmyass,buthe’sthereasecondlater,

callousedhandrubbingthespot,minglingpleasurewithpaininawaythathamypussyclenchingaround
nothing.Idon’twanttodisappointhim,butIalsofindmyselfhopingformorereasonstobepunishedby
him.

“Thisisforforgettingtocallmesir.”
Whack!
Isqueezemyeyesagainstthepain,relishinginit.Themomentaryburstofagonydullsthoughtsofmy

lyingfatherandmydesperatemother.Itmakesitallseemdistantandlessreal.

Moreofhissoothingtouchfollows,intensifyingtheburnbuterasingthesting.
“Thisisforfantasizingaboutothermen.Youonlygetwetforme,Kitten.Youonlycumforme.You’re

mine.”

Whack!
Icryout,thelinebetweenpleasureandpainblurring,butIdon’tcare.Thepainiswashingoverme

likeadrugandIcan’tgetenough.Somedistantpartofmerecognizesthedirtinessofthemoment,butI
ignoreit.Iwon’tletanythingcomebetweenmeandthisexperience.I’vewaitedsolongforthis,noteven
understandingwhatIwaswaitingfor.IbrushasideallofmyworryandletLogan’sdominancecarryme
away.

“Youdidgood,Kitten.Verygood.”
His praise makes my heart pound and my breath come short. I turn to look at him and there’s

tendernessinhimnow.HetakesoffthemaskandlooksatmewithmorecompassionthanIwouldhave
thoughtpossiblefromthosehardeyes.“Areyouonbirthcontrol?”heasks.

“Yes,”Isay,grippingmyfingerstightaroundthesilkbindings,knowingwhat’scoming.
Henods,unbuttoninghisshirtandstrippingoutofhisjacket.Hisbodyissolid.That’stheonlyword

for it. Hard lines and thick, smooth muscle covers every bit of him. If my hands weren’t bound, they

would be all over him. He drops his slacks and his cock springs free, the tip glistening with pre-cum.
Seeing how turned on he is makes me strangely proud, like I’ve done a good job for him. The feeling
surprises me, because I’m doing this for myself. I’ve always been haunted by my failings in past
relationships,andfindingawaytoovercomethatmeansmoretomethananythingelse.

OratleastIthoughtitdid.
Theheadofhiscockpressesagainstmyentrance.Isuckinabreath,fightingtheurgetopressmyself

into him and force him into me. He eases in, slowly. I expected him to take me roughly. But the slow,
almosttenderwayheentersmekeepsmyclimaxatbay,justbarely.Heknowsexactlywhathe’sdoing.
Hedoesn’twantmetoclimaxuntilhedecides,andhe’snotgoingtogivemethehardpoundingIneed.

The orgasm threatening to explode within me makes everything I’ve ever felt before feel like the

trickleofasmallstream.Mywallsstretchasheeaseshimselfdeeperanddeeperinsideme.

“You’resofuckingwetforme.Youwantedmybigcockinsideyou,didn’tyou?”
“Yes,”Ibreathe.
“Sir,”hegrowls,slappingahandacrossmyassandmakingmejump.
Theshowofdominancenearlypushesmeovertheedge,butheslowshispaceasifheknowsexactly

howcloseIamandstillwantstodrawitout.“Yes,”Igasp.“Iwantedyourfatcockinsidemeeversince
Ifirstsawyou.”

His pace increases. His strong hands grip my hips, steadying me as I try to push myself into him,

forcinghimdeeper.He’sbreathingfaster,harder,pantingwitheachthrustnow.

“Cumforme,Kitten,”hesaysthroughclenchedteeth.
Mycoregripshiscockasmybodyspasmswithrelease.Theorgasmripsthroughmelikesomething

feral,shreddingmyinhibitions.Imoanloudly,gaspinghisnameashestillrutsintome.Hepresseshard
intomeandgroans,cockpulsingasthickropesofcumfillmedeepinside.

“OhmyGod,”Isay,lettingmybodyrelaxforthefirsttimesincehetouchedmeintheplayroom.Ifeel

likeIwasjusthitbyabus.Everymuscleissoreandspent.Myclitthrobsastheechoesofmyorgasm
fadeandfallaway.

Heeaseshimselfoffme,grinningdown.“Youdidsowell,Kitten.Youdidsofuckingwell.”
“Thankyou,Sir.”
He unties my hands and ankles, rubbing them tenderly, checking for marks--there are none. He

methodicallymovesacrossmybody,massagingsomeofthesorenessfrommymuscles.Iflinchasherubs
something cool onto my tender ass. The coolness quickly cuts through the sting from my spanking. He
kisses me tenderly, then possessively and I love every second of it. I lay sprawled on the bed, almost
lethargicasIwatchhimstarttoslipintohisclothing.Hetreatsmelikenomaneverhas.

If someone had told me a month ago what I would be doing right now, I never would’ve believed

them. And if a woman ever told me a man punished her the way Logan is punishing me, I would be
appalled.Iwouldthinkitwaschauvinisticanddegrading.Maybeitshouldbe,andmaybeitwouldbeto
otherpeople,butthestrangestpartaboutallthisishowprivateitfeels.WhatLoganandIarebuildingis
entirely between us. It’s both extremely personal and impersonal at the same time, like there’s a wall
betweenourrealselvesandthisfalserealitywe’vebeguntocreate.Onewherewecanbothbesexually
freeandexploreourfantasies.

I feel a slight wave of unease when I realize I don’t know exactly what Logan expects. I know the

rulesofoursexualarrangement,butIdon’tknowwhattherulesareoutsideofthat.Idon’tevenknowifI
want more than this. Couldn’t I just live a normal life by day and become this sexually uninhibited
creaturehe’smakingmeintobynight?Coulditbethatsimple?

Maybe.
When I look at Logan and the possessive way he grins down at me, covetous of my beauty and

jealously driven to protect his claim over me… I’m not so sure this is going to be anything remotely

simple.

Hepicksupmyunderwearandmovestome,carefullyslidingmypantiesbackon.Histhumbbrushes

overmyswollenclitashedoesandIsuckinasharpbreath.Wow.Icouldalreadygoanotherround,butI
don’tknowifmybodywouldbeabletohandleit.

Hefindsmybra,puttingitonformeandthenslidingmydressbackovermyheadandzippingitup.

It’sincrediblyintimate,andIlovethetwosidesofhim.Hecanbeadark,punishingdominantoneminute
andthenameticulouscaretakerthenext.It’stheperfectjuxtapositionofhotandcold.

Hekissesmetenderlyontheneckandthenthelips.“Ihavetogo,Kitten.I’llbeintouch.”
Hekissesmeagainandthenleaveswithoutsomuchasalookoverhisshoulder.

LOGAN

thasbeenthreedayssinceIhadEmmalineatClubCrave.Isentthenon-disclosureagreementoverto

heraddressthefollowingmorning,andshesentitbacktoday.Signed.EverytimeIclosemyeyesIsee
herandherperfectcurves.I’vewantednothingmorethantocallherandhaveheragain,butI’vehadtoo
muchworktodo.Myinternationalpartnersaretryingtoquietlymaneuvertotakecontrolofmycompany.
It shouldn’t be possible because the company is no longer publicly traded, but they are using thuggish
techniquesandtargetingmyinvestorsdirectly.

I can’t catch a fucking break lately. First my investors threaten to pull out because of my character

issues, now this. But I’m not losing sleep over it. It’s just work. That’s the business, and I’ve done my
ownshareofcutthroatpracticestogetwhereIamasquicklyasIdid.Theyarefuckingwiththewrong
man,andit’sonlyamatteroftimeandworktomakethemrealizethat.

“Howlongwillthattake?”Iask.I’msittinginaconferenceroomwithmytopexecutivesfromevery

branchofmycompany.

Jasontapshispenagainstthelegalpadinfrontofhim,mentallycalculatingsomething.He’safitguy

in his forties, and I’ve always appreciated his attitude. He works hard and doesn’t give me bullshit
excuses.That’sallIreallyneed.

“Twoweeks,”hesays.“ThreeifIndiadoesn’tplayball.”
“Fine.Makeithappen,”Isay.
I’mabouttogivethemarketingteamtheirassignmentwhenmyphonebuzzes.Iquicklychecktosee

who’s texting and do a double take when I see it’s Patrick, my personal investigator. I tasked him with
keepinganeyeonEmmalineforme.Maybeitwascrossingtheline,butIcan’ttakeanychances.She’s
alreadytooimportanttome,andgettinginvolvedwithmecouldcauseherunforeseenproblems.Iwasn’t
abouttotakechances.

Patrick(4:52P.M.):5121AppleblossomCir,EastEnd.Youshouldseeher.Domestictrouble.
Iclutchthephonehard,lookingaroundthetableattheexpectantfaces.Theyallknowhowimportant

thenextfewdaysaretothecompanyandtotheirjobs.TheyexpectmetofixitlikeIalwaysdo.Ibarkout
afewquickorders,assigningjobsandinitiativestomytopexecutivesasfastasIcan.

Less than two minutes later, I’m grabbing my coat and rushing from the building without further

explanation.

Patrick knows not to bother me unless it’s something important. He wouldn’t have texted me,

especiallynotduringtheworkday,ifitwasn’tamatterthatneededmyimmediateattention.

I’m parked outside her place twenty minutes later. It’s a small house just outside the city in a

neighborhoodfullofchainlinkfencesand“bewareofdog”signs.Seeingherlivinginaplacelikethis
turnsmystomach.MyKittendeserveswaybetterthanthis.Wayfuckingbetter.Idon’tevenneedtooffer

hermoneythoughtoknowshewouldn’ttakeit.

Thehouseiscoveredincheapvinylsidingpaintedaskybluecolor.It’speelingatthecornersandis

moldingtowardtheground.Despitethegeneraldisrepairofthehouse,there’sabeautifulgardeninthe
frontyardthat’sprotectedfromweedsbystonepavers.Everyplantseemstobeflourishing,andapairof
gardeningshearsstilllaysoutonthepaversbesideapairofdirt-coveredgloves.Thinkingofherbending
overwhileshegardensmakesmesmirk.Forsomereasontheideaofherlikingtogardenendearsherto
meevenmore.

There’sabrightlycoloredwind-catcherplantedbesidethepathleadingtoherfrontdooranditspins

whenaslightbreezerustlestheoaksoverhead.Itakebackmyinitialassessmentofherplace.I’msoused
tobeingsurroundedbywealthandexcessthatmydefaultistolookathowaplacecanbeimproved.The
pursuitofperfectioncouldnevercreateaplacelikethis.Thewaydappledshadefallsoverthehouseand
thewaythebrightgardenaddsakindofcharmtothesmallbuildingcouldhappenonlyorganically,by
accident.

IrealizetoanextentthatsheandIaredifferentafterall.Webothattackourproblemswiththesame

energyanddrive,butmaybewe’reseekingdifferentends.Idon’tknowwhy,butthatthoughtunsettlesme.
ItmakesmewonderifIknowheraswellasIthought.Ishouldn’tbesurprisedIdon’t.Afterall,I’vebeen
withheratotaloffourtimesnow.Afewminutesatmyparty,afewminutesattheclub,afewminutesfor
dinner,andthenoneexceptionalhourattheclublastweekend.Alltotaled,I’veprobablyspenttwohours
withEmmaline,andyetI’msurprisedthatIdon’thavehercompletelyfiguredout.

Iblowoutahumorlesslaugh.
Istepuptothefrontdoorandknock.Myheartispoundinginmychest.Domesticabuse?Inevereven

thoughtshemightnotbesingle,buthowsurprisedcanIreallybe.Afterall,ImetherataBDSMclub.It’s
not exactly the kind of place a sexually deprived woman is likely to end up. If she has some deadbeat
boyfriendslappingheraround,hehadbetterhopehe’sgonewhenIstepinside.Ithinkbacktothethick
makeuponherfaceandtheimplicationsofwhatitcouldhavebeenhidinghasmybloodboiling.Fucking
bruisesonmyKitten.Whoeverisresponsibleisgoingtoregretwakingup.Theywillregretevenbeing
born.Iclenchmyfists,feelingallthemusclesinmybodytighten.

Thedooropensandmywanderingthoughtsaresilencedinaninstant.Myeyesgoimmediatelytothe

brightredmarkbeneathhereye.Iraiseahandtotouchjustbelowthemark,narrowingmyeyesather.My
insidesfeellikeice.There’sadarker,olderbruisebeneathit,rightwhereIsawthethickmakeupatthe
club.

“Whereishe?Whofuckingputhishandsonyou?”Iask.
Shehesitates,eyeswideandsearchingmyface.“It’scomplicated.Idon’twantyoutohurthim.”
IgripthedoorframesotightIcanfeelthewoodthreatentobuckle.Asherdom,Ishouldchastiseher

forrefusingtoanswerme,butthisisn’tthetimeforthat.She’shurting,bothphysicallyandemotionally.
She doesn’t need a dom right now. She needs the lowlife who touched her out of this plane of fucking
existence.

Ishake my head. “Whoever did this toyou is going to pay. You can tellme who it is, or I can find

out.”

Thedistressonherfacemakesmychesthurt.Icanseehowmuchthethoughtofmehurtingwhoever

did this is scaring her, but I can’t let this happen. I don’t care what she thinks about our relationship
outsidetheclub,sheismine,andIneedtosendaveryclearmessageaboutwhathappenstopeoplewho
touchwhat’smine.

Her shoulders slump a little and she looks down. “My mom’s boyfriend. His name’s Ronnie. He’s

beendrinkingmorelately.Ishouldn’thaveevengonebackafterlastweek,butIwenttheretoday.”

Ifeelaguiltysurgeofrelieftohearitwasn’therboyfriend.Maybesheisn’tseeinganyoneafterall,

butnowisn’tthetimetopresstheissue.Istayquietwhilesheexplainshowhermomhasbeentryingto

getmoneyforavacationoutofherforweeksnow.Andhowshetriedtogivethemasmuchasshecould
affordlastweek,butitendedwithRonnieknockinghertotheground.Apparently,whenshewentbackto
trytotalkhermomintoleavingRonniethismorning,hecamehome,overheard,andhither.

Ilistentoherwholestorywithmyhandsclenched,jawtight,andmyeyeshard.“Whereishenow?”I

ask.Myvoiceisquiet,controlled,anddeadly.

Shelooksatmewarily.“He’swithmymomstill,butplease,don’thurthim.Hemaydeserveit,but

it’snotgoingtosolveanything.Whateveryoudotohimisjustgoingtotrickledowntomymom.Ifyou
kickhisass,he’llkickhers.”

She’sright,ofcourse,butitdoesn’tmeanIcan’tmakehimpay.
“Fine.You’llcomewithme.Youcansupervise.”
“What?”
“Comeon.We’regoingnow.”

EMMALINE

oganparkshisridiculouslyoutofplaceAstonMartininfrontofmymomandRonnie’strailer.Ifollow

himtothefrontdoor.Asmuchasitfeelsgoodtofinallyhavesomeoneinmycornerwhowantstoprotect
me,I’mjustasscaredabouthowfastthiscouldallgetoutofcontrol.Ronnieisn’tusedtobeingstoodup
to.Infact,hehasmadeapointofbuildingalifewhereheonlyhastodealwithpeoplewhoaretooafraid
totalkbacktohim.

AndLogan…well,Logandefinitelydoesn’ttoleratebeingtalkedbackto.Mystillsoreasscanattest

tothat.Ihaven’tseenhiminteractwithothersmuch,butIhaveafeelinghedoesn’tjustgetwhathewants
whenitcomestome.

Istealalookathim.Helooksgorgeousinthenavybluesuithewears.He’swearingawhitedress

shirt unbuttoned to show a bit of his tanned chest beneath. His dark hair is pushed to the side and his
featuresaresharpandbeautiful.

Ronnie opens the door and takes us both in with a sweep of his bloodshot eyes. “Who the fuck is

this?”

Logandoesn’twaitforaninvitation.Hestepsinside,havingtoslamhisshoulderintoRonnie’sashe

passes, but not seeming to mind. Ronnie reaches to grab Logan’s shoulder, but Logan turns, knocking
Ronnie’shandawaywithhisforearm.Ithinkthingsareabouttoescalate,howeverafteraquickstaring
match, Ronnie spits on the ground and brushes some imaginary dust from where Logan touched him.
“Carla,Emmalineishere.”

Mymomemergesfromthetinybedroomofthetrailer,eyestiredandsleepy,eventhoughit’salmost

sixintheafternoon.Shelookssadtoseeme.Ronniehasbeencrossingnewlines,andIthinkevenmy
momisstartingtorealizeit’stoomuch.Shemaywanttomilkmeforeverypennyshecanget,butshestill
lovesmeandtriestoprotectmeinherownway.Idon’tforgiveherselfishness,butIrecognizethereisa
sortoflovebetweenus,andIdon’thaveenoughofthatinmylifetothrowitawaysoeasily.

“This is Logan Steel,” I say a little awkwardly, looking between my sleepy mom and the clearly

pissed-offfaceofRonnie.

LoganstandsalmostaninchaboveRonnie,anditlookspainfullyclearthathewouldwipethefloor

withRonnieinafistfight.I’mstillwishingwithallIhavethatitdoesn’tcometothat.Iknowforafact
Ronniewilljusttakeitoutonmymomwhenwe’regone.Ialreadyseethehintofabruiseonherarmand
thewayherupperlipisalittleswollenatonecorner.I’vetriedcallingthecopsonhimbefore,butmy
momalwaysclaimstheinjurieswerefromaccidents,sonothingeverhappens.Ronniejustgivesittoher
thatmuchharderthenexttime.

“Youdidthis?”asksLoganashepointstomyswollencheek.
Ronniesniffsdismissively.“No.Emmalinedidthatwhensheranherfuckingmouth.”

I’mstillalittleshockedtoseeRonniesoopenlyhostiletowardme.Forthetwoyearsmymomhas

knownhim,hehasalwaysatleastmadeanefforttoingratiatehimselfwithme.EventhoughIknewitwas
always just in preparation for when I was allowed to collect my trust fund, it masked the real man
beneath.Thepetty,angry,andabusivemanstandingbeforeme.

Logantapshischinthoughtfully.“Right.Well,here’swhatisgoingtohappen.First,I’mgoingtogive

yourgirlfriendmycard.I’malsogoingtogivemypersonalinvestigatorthisaddress.IfIhearfromeither
CarlaormyPIthatyou’velaidahandonEmmaline,orCarla,I’llbeherewithinthehour.Ifyoutryto
run,I’llfindyou.AndjustsoyouunderstandwhatwillhappenwhenIfindyou--”

LogantakesafistfulofRonnie’swifebeateratthechestandgripshim.Ronnieraisesbothhandstotry

to pry himself free, but Logan is too strong. He pulls his right arm back and then seems to think for a
second. “I almost forgot. Women beaters usually try not to leave visible bruises. Maybe I should show
youhowthatfeels.”

I hear the meaty impact before I even register Logan’s movement. He’s so fast. His arm blurs into

Ronniethreetimes.Fourtimes.Stomach,Ribs,Kidney,Stomach.Eachpunchislikeasmallexplosionof
force,andwhenLoganletsRonniego,heslumpstothefloor,curledinonhimselflikeawoundedanimal,
eyeswidewithsurprise.

MyfistsareballedatmysideandI’msuckinginheavybreathsthroughmynose.Theangerandrage

towardRonnieI’vehadtopushdownforwhathe’sdonetomymomandnowtomeburstsout.Istomp
towardhimandkneelenoughtopunchhimintheface,rightbelowhiseye.“Andthat’swhatitfeelslike
togethitintheface,”Ispit,standingandstormingfromthetrailer.

Afewsecondslater,IfeelLogan’sstronghandsonmyshoulders,rubbingandkneading.“Youokay?’

Heaskssoftly.

“Let’sjustgo,”Isay.
It’sonlywhenI’minhiscaranddrivingawaythatIrealizehe’snotdrivingtowardmyplace.“Where

arewegoing?”Iask.

He’sstaringattheroadahead,knuckleswhiteonthesteeringwheel.“Ineedtoblowoffsomesteam.I

figuredyoucouldtoo.”

Mythroatgoesdry.Blowoffsteam?What’sheplanning?

PULL

up to a place called Topspin Tennis Academy ten minutes later. I turn to him, frowning in

confusion.“Tennis?”Iask.

“Yeah.Doyouknowhowtoplay?”
Ishakemyheadindisbelief.I’mstillreplayingthewayIactuallypunchedRonnieintheface.Ididn’t

knowhowmuchIneededthat.IrealizeLoganisstillwaitingformetorespond.“Yeah,actually.Iwasthe
numberoneonmyteaminhighschoolandIusedtoplaywitharecteamincollege.”

Heraiseshiseyebrows.“Good.”
“Itlookslikethey’reclosed,”Isayaswestepoutofthecar.It’salarge,squarebuildingwithaneven

largerbuildingbehindit.Indoorcourts,Iassume.Placeslikethisareincrediblyexpensivetoplayat,let
alonetoenroll.ButI’mguessingthepricedoesn’tevenregisteronLogan’sradar.

“GoodthingIhaveakey,”hesays,danglingasetofkeysinfrontofme.“Mysisterownstheplace,”

hesays,unlockingthedoorandflickingthelightson.

We’restandinginthelobby.Anemptyreceptiondeskandcomputeraretooneside,andthefarwallis

linedwithunstrungracquets,fitnessclothing,shoes,racquetbags,andtennisballs.

IlookdownatthefrumpyoutfitIwaswearingtowallowonthecouchinwhenLogancameknocking

at my door. If I had even the vaguest suspicion that I might see him, I probably would have spent all

morninggettingmymakeupperfectandpickingoutthebestoutfit.It’satestamenttohowpreoccupiedI
wasbyRonnie’sbullshitthatI’monlynowrealizinghowterribleImustlook.

“Grabwhateveryouwantandgetchanged,”hesays,movingtoarackofclothesandgrabbinghimself

ablackdry-fitshirtandapairofgrayshorts.

“You’renotgoingtoplayinyoursuit?”Iaskwithasmirk.
Helaughs.“Iwasn’tplanningonit.Butifthatwouldturnyouon…”
Ibitemylip,smilingasIrunmyfingeralongtheexpensiveclothes.Ican’trememberthelasttimeI

paidmorethanfivedollarsforablouse,andeventhatissplurgingforme.I’vebeenputtingeverything
intobillsforsolongthatI’veneverreallyhadachancetotreatmyselftoanything.Someofthesetopsare
seventydollars,andoneofthetennisdressesisevenmarkedatahundredandtwenty.

Logannoticesthelookonmyface.“Don’tworry.I’llpaymysisterforwhateverwetake.I’mserious,

treatyourself.Takeasmuchasyoulikeforlater.Wecandropitbyyourplacetonight.”

I finally decide on an outfit that costs just over a hundred and fifty dollars including the shoes.

Whetherhesaidnottoworry,Icouldn’tbringmyselftogetanythingtooexpensive.“Isthereachanging
room?”Iask.

Hestepstowardme,strippinghissuitjacketwithoutbreakingeyecontact.Itakeaninvoluntarystep

back, a blush rising to my cheeks instantly. “What?” he asks, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “You
won’tchangeinfrontofme?”

Itrytocalmmybreathing.Ifeelsillytryingtoexplainit.Eveninmyhead,itsoundsdumb.AllIcan

doisshakemyheadandlookdown,searchingfortherightwords.

“Hey,”hesays,movinginclose.Hehookshisindexfingerundermychinandforcesmyfaceupso

I’mlookingathim.“What’sgoingoninhere?”hetapsthesideofmyheadsoftly,lettinghisfingerlinger
andpushalockofhairbehindmyear.

I flinch away from his touch, hating the hurt look that springs up on his face. “It’s just.” I groan in

frustration,searchingtheceilingforthewordsI’mtryingtofind.“I’mstillgettingusedtothething we
havegoingonatClubCrave.IneverknewhowmuchIwantedorneededsomethinglikewhatwe’ve…
started.Attheclub,”Iaddmeaningfully.

Hefrowns.“Isee.Andyoumaynotneedsomethinglikethatoutsidetheclub?”
Iopenmymouthtodenyit,butIcan’t.Ishakemyhead,lookingdownagain.“I’msorry.Here,I’lljust

leavethesethingsandcallforanUberorsomething.”

HestepscloseagainandI’mpainfullyawarethathisdressshirtiscompletelyopen,revealingsmooth

slabsofmuscle.“Whateveryouwant,”hesayssoftly.“Ifyouwanttokeepitintheclub,wecandothat.I
needit,too.Whatwehavethere.Andifithastostaythere,thensobeit.”

Hiseyessearchmine.Iclosemyeyesforalongmoment,tryingtoorganizemythoughts,butfailing.

“Thankyou.Ithink…Istillwanttokickyourassonthecourtthough.Maybeaftertonightwecantryto
simplifythings.Keepitattheclub.”

Hebiteshislip.“Mysisterownsatennisacademyandyouthinkyou’llbeatme?”

TEST

thestringsontheracquetheletmepickoutfromthestoredemos.TheyarealittletighterthanI

prefer,butastifferstringbedisalwayshelpfulwhenhittingagainstmen.Itmakesblockingheavyserves
easier,butsomehowIcan’tpictureamanlikeLoganactuallybeingachallengingmatch.Tennisisagame
offinessethattakesyearsandyearsofpractice.Athleticismcanonlytakeyousofar.Hewillprobablyhit
everyotherballashardashecanandsenditsailing.

Loganmanagestomakethesimpleblackshirtandshortshewearslookridiculouslygood.Hisbroad

chestpressesagainstthethinfabricandtheraisedpointsofhisnipplesarejustbarelyvisible.IfIwas

less competitive, I would be tempted to throw aside my reservations about our relationship outside the
clubandjumpoverthenetrightnowtogetmyhandsonhim.Steppingonthecourthasallmyoldinstincts
firing.It’sforthebest,becauseI’mstillsortingthroughthemessthathasbecomemylife.

Whycouldn’tIjustgoalongwithitfortonight?What’ssohardaboutchanginginfrontofhim?Iknow

the answer though, even if I don’t want to admit it. I was afraid he would want to have sex. Regular,
vanillasex.AndIwasafraidIwouldn’tbeabletogetoffforhim.Whatwouldhethinkofmethen?

Isuckinafrustratedbreathandrefocusonthegame.HittingsometennisballsashardasIcanmaybe

exactlythethingIneedtoclearmymind.

Theacademyisdividedintofoursub-buildings,eachmadeupoffourindoorcourtsseparatedbytall

nets.Thereareviewingboothsjuttingfromthehighwalls.It’sanamazingfacility,andmustbeworthalot
ofmoney,butitdoesn’treallysurprisemethatLogan’ssisterwouldbesuccessfultoo.

“Wanttowarmup?”asksLogan.
“I’mgoodnow,”Isay.
Helaughs.“Haveityourway.Youwanttoserve?”
“Youcanstart,”Isay.Thefastestwaytojudgehislevelofplayistoseehisserve.It’sthestrokethat

takeslongesttomaster,andninetimesoutoften,Icouldalwaystellhowtoughmyopponentwasgoingto
beoverallfromtheirservealone.

He pockets a ball and bounces another, shifting his feet into the proper stance. I take an aggressive

positiontwostepsinsidethebaselineontheassumptionthathisservewon’tbetooimpressive.Hetaps
theballagainstthecourttwicewithhisracquetandstartshismotion.Armsdowntogether,uptogether,
perfecttrophypose,and…

Crack!
The ball explodes off his racquet from the peak of his toss, streaking toward me almost too fast to

track. From how close I’m standing, I barely have time to get my racquet up in time to deflect the ball
defensively.Itbouncesoffmyracquetandlandsnowherenearthelines.

Holyshit.
Idon’tgivehimthesatisfactionofcomplementingtheserve,eventhoughIhavetoimagineitwasat

leastahundredandtwentyorahundredandthirtymilesperhour.ItwaseasilythefastestserveI’veever
returned,andIdidn’tevenlethimwarmup.Imovetotheadsideofthecourtandthistimelineupfour
longstepsbehindthebaseline.

“That’sgame,”hesaystenminuteslater.“Mywin.”
I’mdrippinginsweatandmylegsalreadyfeelweak.Ihaven’tplayedthathardinalongtime.Ihave

toimaginehistennisgameisalotlikethewayhehandleshisbusiness.Hegoesbigoneveryshot.The
servesarebig,hisgroundstrokesarebig,andheneveroncehitasliceoradropshot.Everythingwasfull
power,punishing,andfast.Iwasonlyabletoclawmywaytodeucebychangingthedynamic.Iplayedas
defensiveaspossible,forcinghimtokeeptakinghigh-riskshotsandlettinghimbeathimself.

Logansinksdowndejectedlybesideme.He’ssweatingalittle,butInoticewithembarrassmentthat

he’snotsweatingnearlyasmuchasIam.

“You play just like my sister, but it took her a lot longer to figure out she could try to beat me like

that.”

Igrabatowelandwipethesweatfrommyface.“Didyouplayincollege?”Iask.
“Ididn’tgotocollege,”hesays.
“Really?”Iask.
Heshrugs.“Yeah.MoneywastightandIfiguredIcouldgetmoreoutofthelittleIhadbyinvestingit

inmybusiness.”

Ilookdownthoughtfully.Damn.IwishIhadthegutsLogandoes.I’veriskedalotformybusiness,

buthejustplowsforwardtowardwhathewantsandnevereventhinksaboutlookingback.Ienvythat.

WhenItakerisks,Idwellonthemandworryconstantly.

“Soit’szerotoone,”Isay,“fornow.”
Hesmirks.“Yeah,you’reright.It’llbetwotoone,thenthreetoone…”
Islaphisarm,turningsohedoesn’tseemmygrinasIwalktomysideofthecourt.Thelongerwe

play,thelesssmalltalkthereis.ItseemsLoganisjustascompetitiveasIam.Soonwe’rebothjustgiving
thegameallwehave,gruntingaswepoundgroundstrokeaftergroundstrokeoverthenet,runningdown
shotsthatshouldbeimpossible.Ouronlywordsaretocallballsoutorstatethescorebeforeserving.We
stopeventakingbreaks,choosinginsteadtokeepgrindingoutpointafterpoint.

There’ssomethingaboutgivingeverythingIhaveagainsthimthatfeelstherapeutic.It’ssillytothink,

butsomehowstrugglingagainsthimonthecourtfeelslikemorethanjusttryingtowinagame.It’slike
I’mtryingtoprovesomething,evenifIdon’tknowwhatI’mtryingtoprove.Maybeinsomeconvoluted
wayI’mtryingtomakethistennismatchaboutheandI.MaybeI’mtryingtoproveI’mworthytobewith
himasmorethanhissubmissiveinsomedarksexclub.Whateveritis,mymindisfocusedandIdon’t
givemuchmorethoughttowhy.AllIwanttodoiswin.

Thesetcomesdowntoabreakpoint.IfIcanwinthislastgamewhilehe’sserving,I’llwintheset.

Buthisserveshaveonlybeengettingharderasthesethasdraggedon.Hishairisplasteredtohishead
withsweat,andtheblackdry-fitshirtishuggingeverycurveandlineofhismuscles.Helookssinfully
good,butIcan’tfocusonthat.Hiseyesarehard,andforwhateverhisreasonsare,hewantstowinjustas
badly as I do. I briefly think about how silly this is. Two adults locked in a tennis match in a deserted
tennisfacilityafterhours,takingthegameasseriouslyasifitwastheWimbledoncup.

Heservesanabsolutethunderboltatme.Ionlyhavetimetoblocktheshot,bracingtheracquetwith

bothhandstokeepitfromflyingoutofmygrip.Imanagetoputthesmallestamountofbackspinonthe
ball.Thebackspinmakesmyreturnshotdragthroughtheairslowly,quicklylosingheightandsinkinglike
arock.ItjustbarelyskidsoverthenetandLoganhastosprintforwardtogetit.Tomysurprise,helunges
forward,layinghimselfoutcompletely,armoutstretchedtowardtheball.Therimofhisracquetcatches
it,poppingtheballbackoverthenetwithalmostnopower.I’mforcedtosprinttothenettoo,buthisshot
bounceshighenoughtogivemetimetosetup.

Logangetshisfeet,plantinghisfeetwideandatthereadytoblockmyshot.Isetupforabigforehand

onlyafewstepsfromthenet.Loganisrightonthenet,andIknowtheeasiestshotformeistoaimforhis
hip,sowithoutthinking,Ido.Iwhipmyarmthroughtheball,crushingittowardhim.Hemoveshishand
to block, but we’re so close there’s no time for him to react. The ball thuds into his upper thigh and
bouncestotheground.

“Iwin,”Iwhisper,alltheintensityandfocusdrainingfrommeinaninstantwhenIseethelookonhis

face.

Hedropshisracquet,lookingslowlydownatwhereIhithimwiththeball.Whenheraiseshisface

back to mine, his features are full of fury. He stalks around the net, coming toward me with purpose. I
swallowhard,takingastepback.

“Logan,I’msorry.Igotcarriedaway.”
“Sir,”hesays,voicedeadlycalm.
Irealizewhathewants.Eventhoughmybodycraveshispunishmentandhisdiscipline,I’macutely

awareofwhereweare.It’sonethingtosurrendermytrusttohiminClubCrave,whereIknowthereare
bodyguardswithinearshotifIeverneedhelp.Trustinghiminaplacelikethiswouldbe…reckless.One
lookatthebarelycontainedrageinhiseyestellsmeallIneedtoknow.Ican’tdothis.Nothere.

“Logan,I…”
Headvancesonmeandhisjawflexesashegrabsmebytheupperarm,tight.
“You’rehurtingme,please--”
Something in my voice gets through to him and he lets go like he was burned. The rage in his face

drainsandisreplacedbydisgust.Helooksdownathishandandshakeshishead.“Fuck.”Hestripsthe
tennisballfromhispocketandthrowsitashardashecaninangerandthenwalkstowardtheexit.He
kicksoverawatercooleronhiswayout,threadingbothhishandsthroughthebackofhishair.

I’mleftstandingtheresweatingandholdingmyracquet,notknowingwhattodo.Afterafewminutes,

I tentatively follow after him to the main entrance of the building. I find him at the front counter, hands
plantedwideasheleans,headhanging.HelooksupwhenIstepin.

“Here,”saysLogan,tossingmecarkeys.“YoucantakemycarhomeandI’llhavesomeonepickitup

laterthisweek.I’llhaveadrivercomegetme.”

Icatchthekeys,lookingdownatthem.“Youdon’thavetodothat.Icanstillridewithyou.”
“No,”hesayscoldly.“Thiswasamistake.You’reright.Itwouldbebestifweendedthingsbeforeit

getsmorecomplicated.”

Ilookatthekeysliketheywillhavetherightwords,liketheywillknowhowtofixthiswhenitfeels

likeit’salreadycrashingandburning.“Everythinghappenedsofast,”Isay.“Emmaline,youdon’tneedto
explain.Thiswasmyfault.”

Ilickmylipsslowly,failingtoputmyfeelingsintowords.BeforeIhaveachance,hisdriverhonks

twotimesfromoutside.

“I’vegottogo,”hesays.“Takethecar.Gethomesafe.Andgoodluckwitheverything.”
“WillIeverseeyouagain?”Iaskwhenthedoorisabouttoclosebehindhim.
Hestopsthedoorwiththebackofhishand,pausing,butnotturningtofaceme.“Probablynot,”he

answershonestly.

Andjustlikethat,thedoorclosesonLoganSteeleandhisinvolvementinmylife.

“A

LEAST

YOU

gottokeeptheclothesandracquet,”saysScarlett.

Ilaughbitterly.“Quitetheconsolationprize.”
Shepushesherlipstothesidethoughtfully.Ijustfinishedupdatingheronprettymucheverythingthat

happenedbetweenLoganandIoverthepasttwoweeks.Itfeltgoodtogetitout,butIfeeldrainedeven
fromretellingitall.Beingwithhimwasliketouchingastar.Itwasblindinglyhot,overwhelming,andso
intensethattherewasnowayIcouldhaveevermadeitlast.

“Anywordontheloans?”Scarlettleansagainstthesingleboxofonesiesinourcrampedoffice.With

all the debt piling up, I’ve completely run out of capital to invest in more supplies. The business is
lookinglikeit’sgoinginthesamedirectionLoganandIwent,thesamedirectionthingsaregoingbetween
my mom and Ronnie, and the same direction as everything else in my life has gone: a promising start
followedbyadevastatingcrash.

“Well,themoneyfromClubCravehashelped,butIdon’tknowifIcanshowmyfacethereagain.Not

afterwhathappenedwithLogan.Ican’thelpfeelinglikeIwasacocktease.Ilethimseduceme,played
along,andthenwhenhegotattachedIran.”

Scarlett glares at me. “Hey. Don’t talk like that, girl. For someone who didn’t even know anything

abouttheBDSMscene,hemovedyouwaytoofast.He’stheonewithexperience.Heshouldhavetakenit
slowerandletyoueaseyourselfintoit.It’swaytoomuchforsomeonetohandleallatonce.Besides,you
neveragreedtomaketherelationshipanythingmorethansex.It’shisfaultifheassumed.”

“Idon’tknowifthat’sfair,”Isayslowly.“Iplayedjustasmuchapartashedid.Ihaddoubts,butI

ignoredthembecauseitfeltsogood.Ievensignedallthepapershesentover.Ibarelyevenreadit.He
triedtomakeeverythingasperfectasitcouldbeandIjustrushedintoofast.”

“Fuckifit’sfairornot.He’sanadultandhecangetoverit.”
Ilaughalittlesadly.“IsitbadthatIdon’twanthimtogetoverit?Ipushedhimaway,butIdidn’t

wanthimtoleave.Ijustwantedhimtoslowdown.”

Shesqueezesmyhandsympathetically.“Youbetyourasshe’snotoveryou.Look,ifIwasyou,I’dget

backonthehorse.GotoClubCrave,dowhatyouhavetotogetthepaycheckandstarttacklingthisdebt.
Ifhecomessniffingaroundagain,youdowhateverfeelsright.”

Isigh.OfalltheemotionsI’mfeelingrightnow,theguiltishittingmehardest.NomatterhowIlookat

it,IfeellikeIunintentionallystrungLoganalongandsethimuptobehurt.Ineverwantedtodeceivehim.
ThingsbetweenheandIjusthappenedsofastIdidn’thavetimetoreallyfigureoutwhatIevenwanted.
SomuchofwhatIfeltwasnewandexcitingthatIblindlypushedforward,ignoringeverythingelse.DidI
want what was between us to remain purely sexual and at the club? Or did I want it to evolve into
something more? I didn’t know, but I felt like we were rapidly heading toward something very
complicatedandveryreal.

Iwasafraidtogivemyselfuptosomeoneagain.Itrustedmydadandhetookadvantage.Itrustedmy

momandRonnieandtheytookadvantage.EveryoneI’veevertrustedhasmademeregretit,andIwas
afraidtotrustLogan.Myinstinctsweretellingmeitwasokaytotrusthim,buthowcanItrustthesame
instinctsthatledmetomisplacemytrustsomanytimesbefore?

LOGAN

thasbeennearlyaweeksinceEmmalineandIplayedtennis.IsworeIwouldleaveheraloneafterthat.

IsworetostayawayfromClubCraveandtolosehernumber.I’vedoneneither.Isomehowconvinced
myself I couldn’t disappear because I had to keep in touch in case her mom’s boyfriend started trouble
again,eventhoughIcouldeasilykeepthatmatterundercontrolwithoutbeinginvolvedpersonally.

Olivia sits across from my desk, studying me. I haven’t told her much, but I can already see she’s

usinghersisterlyintuitiontoreadmelikeabook.

“Howlonghasitbeen?”sheasks.
“Since?”Iask.
“Don’tbullshitme.Sinceyouandthatgirlyouwereintosplit.Youboughtawoman’stennisoutfitlast

weekandyou’vebeendepressedeversince.You’veneverplayedtenniswithoneofyourgirlsbefore.
Youmusthavereallylikedher.Didshebreakupwithyoubecauseyoudon’tknowhowtotakeiteasy?
Didyoupeltherwithatennisball?”

Ilaughatthememory.“Actually,she’stheonewhohitme.Istillhaveabruise.”
Oliviathrowsherheadbackandlaughs.Thesoundofherlaughtermakesmegrin.“Damn.Andyoulet

hergetaway?”

“Whenawomanmakesitclearshedoesn’twanttobeinarelationship,it’snotreallylettinghergo.”
Oliviashrugs.“Iguessyouhaveapoint.Still.I’msorryitdidn’tworkout,Logan.”
“Yeah,metoo.”
“Butyou’replanningonseeingheragain,aren’tyou?”
“No,”Isay.
“Liar.”
“Itcanbereallyannoyingtalkingtosomeonewhopracticallyreadsyourmind,youknow,”Isay.
“Youdothesameshittome,sodon’tevencomplain.”
I smirk. “Yeah, good point. I was going to ask about the way you’re practically glowing. Did you

finallygetlaid?”

Sheshiftsinherseat,glaringatme.“JustbecauseIstickmynoseinyourbusiness,itdoesn’tmean

youhavepermissiontostickyournoseinmine.”

“Trustme,ItrytokeepmynoseasfarawayfromyouasIcan.”
She gives me a level look. “If you really knew what I was thinking, you’d be hiding that stapler,

becauseI’mseriouslyconsideringhittingyouinthefacewithit.”

Ilaugh,butcasuallytuckthestaplerintomydeskdrawer.I’veknownOlivialongenoughtoknowshe

reallymightattackmeifIpresshertoomuch.

Deansavesmefromherbysteppingintomyoffice.“Logan,weneedtotalk.”

“Andthat’smycuetoleave,”saysOlivia.Shestands,waves,andletsherselfout.
Dean’swearingadarksuitandhashishairpushedback,butthereareuncharacteristicbagsunderhis

eyes.HesitsdownwhereOliviawasjustmomentsagoandsighs,runningahandthroughhishair.“China
andIndiapulledoutthismorning.”Somethingisoffinhistone.It’salmostgloating,butIignoreit.Dean’s
personalissuesareverylowonmyprioritylistatthemoment.

Ipursemylips.“Fuckthem.We’llfindnewinvestors.”
“It’snotgoingtobethatsimple.Thelistofpeoplewhocanprovidethesamekindofcapitalisashort

one,andwe’vealreadytalkedtoeveryoneonthelist.”

“Thenwe’lltalktothemagain,”Isayirritably.
Deanlooksdown,flickingapieceofdustoffhispants.“ChinaandIndiabackingouthastherestof

ourinvestorsgettingnervous,too.Thiswholethingcouldcomecrashingdown,Logan.Youmightwantto
seriouslyconsiderliquidizingwhateverassetsyoucanandgettingoutbeforeitgoestoground.”

I clench my fists. “Don’t they realize my personal life has jack shit to do with how I can run a

business?”

Deanchuckles.“Youknowhowitis.Imageiseverything.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m not giving up on the company. And fuck anybody who expects me to. I’ll use my

personalfundstoinvestinnewbusinessesifIhaveto.I’llgoonfuckingfootandfindthem.Idon’tcare.
Thiscompanyisn’tdying.”

SWORE

Iwouldstayaway,butthebullshitwithmycompanyhasmeonedge.Againstmybetterjudgment,

IdecidetogotoClubCrave.EventhoughIknowit’saweekendandEmmalinemightbeworking,unless
IscaredheroutoftheBDSMscenealltogether.Idoubtitthough.IfIknowheratall,shewillkeepher
jobheretokeepherbusinessalive.She’salotlikemeinthatregard.She’lldowhatshehastodokeep
herdreamburning.

Theclubisparticularlyfulltonight,evenforaFriday.Ican’tstopmyselffromscanningthecrowdin

the lobby for Emmaline. There are at least six employees of the Club in my immediate view. Two
bouncersatthedoorcheckingmemberIDs,theMatronmakingherrounds,twobehindthebar,andone
bouncerwatchingthehallwayleadingtotheplayrooms.

Igrabaseatatthebar,orderingadrink.Inormallystayawayfromthebarattheclubbecauseoneof

theprimaryjobsofthebouncersistowatchformemberswhoaretoodrunktoplaysafelyandejectthem.
Todaythough,Iorderabourbon.Onedrinkwon’tkillme.OnceI’vedraineditandthealcoholhasstarted
tomeltawaysomeofthestressI’mcarrying,Iwandertowardtheplayrooms.

EventhoughIcan’tstoplookingforEmmaline,IhavenoideawhatitisIplantodoifIfindher.I

pushedhertoofarandtoofast.AsmuchasItriednotto,IfuckedthingsupwithherandIhavetopaythe
priceforthatnow.Still,whetherIlogicallyrealizethatornot,Ican’tstopmyselffromwantinganother
chance.It’snotevenjustthesexthathasmechasingafterherlikeafuckingkickedpuppy.Isawsomething
in her more powerful and admirable than I could have imagined. I’m so used to looking down on the
women I’ve been with. So many of them are vain, petty, and lack ambition. Emmaline is none of those
things.SheiseverythingIeverwantedinawoman.

AndlikeOliviasaid,Ilethergetaway.
Fuck.
Ieventuallyfindherinthesameplayroomwiththestagesetuplikelastweekend,exceptthistime

she’s not facing the stage where a woman is moaning while a man in a mask drips hot wax across her
nakedbody.

A man in a white mask and a dark suit is standing very close to Emmaline. He’s leaning forward

slightly,talkingquicklywhileEmmalineisavoidingeyecontactandlookinguncomfortable.I’vealready
taken a few steps toward the guy, fists clenched at my side, when I realize she’s allowed to talk to
whoevershewants.

She’snotyoursanymore,Logan.Youmaderealfuckingsureofthat.
Istand,seethingasIwatch,notnoticinganythingelsearoundmebutthemanspeakingtoEmmaline

andthewayshe’slookingmoreandmoreuncomfortable.

Hereachesandtakesherupperarm,pullingherslightly,butshepullsback,shakingherhead,stillnot

lookingupfromtheground.

Fuck it. She can be pissed at me if she wants, but I’m not going to let some asshole make her

uncomfortable. When I get closer, I realize who he is. Most of his face is covered, but I recognize his
postureandjaw.It’sTaylorBonnichsen,arealestatetycoonwhoinvestsheavilyinmycompany.Idon’t
evenhesitatethough.I’vealreadylostChinaandIndia,sowhatifIloseTaylor.

Technically speaking, I have the personal funds to walk away from everything and live a lavish

lifestyle for a thousand lifetimes. I have enough money to be my own soul investor and float the entire
company. But that’s never what this was about. I chase success. I strive for success. But right now,
protectingEmmalinemattersmoretomethananyofthatevercould,whethershe’sminetoprotectornot.

Iyankhisshoulderback,pullinghimsohe’sforcedtofaceme.
“Whatthe--Logan?”heasks.“Idon’tknowwhatyouthinkyou’redoing,but--”
“Leaveheralone,”Isay.“I’llonlyaskonce.”
Hestraightenstohisfullheight,steppingclosertome,butTaylorisafewinchesshorterthanmeand

notasbroad.Istepintohim,lookingdown,waiting.There’sastrictruleagainstfightingintheclub,anda
brawlcouldgetbothofusbannedforlife.I’lldoitinaheartbeatifIhaveto.Imayhavefuckedthingsup
withEmmalineformyself,butI’llstilldoanythinginmypowertoprotecther.

Taylorfinallyrelaxes,shakinghisheadandturningtowalkaway.“Thatwasamistake,”hesaysover

hisshoulder.

Imovetoleavetoo,butEmmaline’ssmallhandgripsmyarm.“Wait,”shesays.“Thankyou.”
“Anytime,”Isay,tryingagaintoleave,butshedoesn’tletgo.
“Youknow,ifIhadyournumber,Iwould’vecalledyouthatnight.Iwantedtoapologize.”
Iturnslowlytofaceher,toreadtheexpressiononherbeautifulface.Hereyesarewideandsincere.

Theinnocenceinherfeaturesonlyamplifiesthesexualityofherfulltitsandwidehips.“Youdon’thave
anythingtoapologizefor.”

She bites her lip, stepping closer to me and reaching for my chest, but pulling her hand away

hesitantly.“Idothough.Ishouldhavebeenclearfromthestart.Thisisallsonewtome.It’sexcitingand
scary.I’mfiguringitoutasIgo,andIjustwasn’tsure.Ihave-”sheswallows,lookingdown,herfingers
curlingagainstmychest.“Ihavetroublewithtrust.”

Ichuckle,cuppinghercheekandmakinghermeetmyeyes.“Thatjustmeansyou’resmarterthanmost

people.”

She laughs a little, the corner of her mouth pulling up in a grin. “For a smart person I can do some

reallystupidthings.”Shebitesherlip,lookinguncertainlyupintomyeyes.“StupidthingsthatIshouldbe
punishedfor...Sir.”

Mycockstiffens.“Emmaline,”Isayslowly,notsureI’mwillingtogiveupthechanceofdoingthings

therightwaywithher,evenforwhatwoulddefinitelybethefuckofmylife.

Shelooksdown,cheeksreddening.
Itiltherfaceuptomewithmyforefinger.AsmuchasIwanttodragheruptoaprivateroomright

now,Ican’tbringmyselftodoit.Maybeshe’saskingforit,butwhatshe’sreallydoingislettingherself
trytotrustmeagain,andIknowhowhardthatisforher.Ineedtoshowhershecantrustme,absolutely
andcompletely.Shemaythinkthewaytosolvethisisintheplayroom,butit’snot.

“Yourpunishment,”Isayslowly,“Istocomewithme.Todinneratmyplace.I’llcook.Andyou’llbe

forcedtowatchmyfavoritemoviewhileweeat.”

Shefrownsbrieflyinconfusionandthenabeautifulsmilesplitsherlips.There’suncertaintyinher

face,butsheseemstopushitdown,nodding.“Okay.When?”

“Tonight,”Isay.
“ButIhavework,”shesays.
“I’lltalktotheMatronforyouandgetyoutherestofthenightoff.Don’tworryaboutthat.”
Shehesitates,suckinginabreathbeforecontinuing.“Ican’taffordtomisswork.”
Ismirk.“I’llmakeitcleartotheMatronthatyou’restillworking,whetheryou’reonthepremisesor

not.”

Shesmilesshyly.“Yes,Sir.”

EMMALINE

’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
catchaglimpseoftannedskin.I’mashamedbyhowmuchmybodyrespondstohimatfirst,butImentally
scoldmyselfformyshame.Ihavenothingtofeelbadfor.He’sadrop-deadgorgeousmanwho’ssingle.
I’msingle.WhyshouldIkeepbattlingthesefeelingsofguilt?Hewokesomethingsexualupinsidemethat
Ineverknewwaslyingdormant,andnowthatit’sout,itseemstobereallyout.

EvenwhileIwonderifI’mdoingtherightthingbylettingourrelationshipgetcomplicated,mybody

hasnodoubtsatall.Iworewhitecottonpantiesagain.IblushalittlethinkingofhowIpromisedmyselfI
wouldkeepmydistancefromhim,butstillworewhitecottonpantiesjustontheoff-chancethathewould
seethem.IguessIknewhowthiswasgoingtoend,evenifIwouldn’tadmitittomyself.

“Whateveryou’remakingovertheresmellsridiculouslygood,”Isay,eyeslockedonhisperfectass.
Hetossesaheapofvegetablesandsauceskillfullyintheskillet.Thefoodsizzlesandpops,bathing

meinadelightfulscentofsomethingalmostfloralandsweet,likeagoodredwinecutthroughwithbutter.
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.

IthinkthethingthatisgivingmethemostpauseishowIcanconsolidatethekindofsexlifeaman

likeLoganoffersandanormalrelationship.I’msoincrediblydrawntothepowerful,domineeringsideof
himthatcomesoutwhenhewantsme,buthowcanhebeboththedominantIneedinthebedroomandthe
morenormal,understandingkindofmanIneedoutsideofit?MaybeIcouldlearntolovethecharming,
thoughtful,andalmostkindsideofLoganIseenow.Butwouldn’tthatcompromisemyabilitytofearhim
inthebedroomandquiverathisslightesttouch?

Isighquietly,nibblingonmythumbnailuntilIrealizewhatI’mdoingandstop,pressingmyhandsto

the marble countertop to keep myself from fidgeting any more than I already am. Logan makes me feel
batshitcrazy.LikeI’mbeingforcedtochoosebetweenthesexlifeIneverthoughtI’dhaveandthemost
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
choosehim.Imadeitthislongwithoutarealsexlife,andIcanmakeittherestofmylifeifIhaveto.

“Soyousaidwe’rewatchingyourfavoritemovie.AmIallowedtoask?”
Heturnsslightly,narrowinghiseyesasheapparentlydecidesifIgettoknow.“No.Ithinkitshould

beasurprise.”

Ilaugh.“ShouldIbescared?”
“Probably,”headmitsasheslidesthechoppedgarlicintothesizzlingpanandaddsanotherlayerof

deliciousnesstothesmell.Heflipsthecontentsofthepanafewmoretimesandthensetsitofftheburner.

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
someofthevegetables,beef,andsauceintoeachbowl,toppingthemwithahandfulofshreddedcheese
beforeslidingthepanbackintotheoven.

Hemovestothecabinetandpullsouttwowineglasses,settingoneinfrontofmeandthenopeninga

door that leads to an entire pantry full of wine racks. He runs his finger thoughtfully over the bottles
beforefinallyselectingabeautifulbottlethat’sprobablyincrediblyexpensive.Heuncorksthebottleand
swirlsit,lettingsomeairin.Loganpoursusbothaglassandraiseshis.

“Tobuildingtrust,”hesays,meetingmyeyes.
Iblushalittle,clinkingmyglassagainsthis.“Yeah.Totrust.”Isipthewineandraisemyeyebrows.

“Wow.That’sreallygood.”

He smiles, jogging over to the living room and fishing out a DVD from a cabinet beside his huge

television.He inserts thedisk and jogsback to the kitchento pull outthe now perfectly cheese-crusted
pastriesfullofmeat,vegetables,andsauce.Heplatesoneforeachofusandnodstowardthelivingroom
couch.“Youdon’tmindeatingonthecouch,doyou?”

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

thing.”

“Mythoughtsexactly,”hesays.
Webothtakeourspotsontheloveseatandheshowsmehowtopopthereclinerout.
“OhmyGod.ThiscouchisthemostcomfortablethingI’veeversaton,”Isay.
He laughs. “Thanks. I think it was imported, but I had a woman from France take care of all the

decorating.Idon’tgettospendmuchtimehere.”

“Icanimagine,”Isay,thankinghimashehandsmemyplate.Isetmywineglassontheendtableto

myleftandtryaforkfulofthesteamingpastry.Theflavorexplodesinmymouth.Themeltedcheeseon
tophasaperfectbiteandslightlycrunchytexturearoundtheedges,andthepastryisbutteryandsmooth.
Themeatinsidehasafaintsweetnessfromthewineandiscookedtoabsoluteperfection.Thevegetables
addjusttherightamountofcrunchandanearthinessthatbringseverythingtogether.Iswallowandturnto
him,eyeswide.

Hecatchesmylookandlaughs.“Youlikeit?”
“Likeit?Iloveit.Holyshit,”Isay,laughingdownatthepastry.“Iwasn’tplanningonembarrassing

myselfbypiggingout,butImayhavetogobackforseconds.”

Helooksatmeseriously,handsqueezingmythighandsendingwavesofheatthroughmybody.“You

shouldneverbeembarrassedaroundme.Doyouunderstand?”

Doyouunderstand…Hiswordscallupmemoriesofhowhewaswithmeasmydom.I’mstruckby

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
smilesornot.Hemaynotbeasextremeoutsideoftheclub,butheisstilldominant.I’msurprisedbyhow
much that matters to me. I don’t even want to start digging into my past to figure out where the switch
flippedthatmademethinkIneedamantodominateme,butit’sthere.Ineverfeltorsawitbefore,but
after my first night with Logan at Club Crave, it’s so painfully obvious I can’t believe I never saw it
before.

Ineedit.Idon’tknowyetifIneeditineveryfacetoftherelationship,butthesmallhintLoganjust

gave me feels right somehow, like a gentle tease and reminder that he may be playing nice, but he still
expectsmetodoashewishes.

“Emmaline…”There’sahintofwarninginhisvoice.Don’tmakemeasktwice.Hedoesn’tsayit,but

Icansenseitonthetipofhistongue.

“Iunderstand,S--”Iclampmymouthshut,blushing.Iwasabouttosaysir.
Hissmirksaysheknowsexactlywhat’sgoingthroughmyhead.HeraisestheremoteandturnstheT.V.

onandthenstartstheDVD.IlaughoutloudwhenIrealizewhatmovieitis.

“Terminator2?Thisisyourfavoritemovie?”
“You’veseenit?”heasks.Thehintofexcitementinhisvoicemakesmelaugh.
Igrin.“Idon’tknow.Maybelikethirtyyearsagowhenitwasreleased.”
Heshakeshishead.“Itwasreleasedinninetyone,andyouwouldn’thavebeenalivetowatchitifit

wasreleasedthirtyyearsago.”

Ismirkathim.“Iwasjusttryingtoseeifyouknewthereleasedate.”
Helaughs.“Well,youcaughtme.”
We watch the opening scenes of the movie in relative silence while we eat the delicious meal he

preparedandsipourwine.It’snotanuncomfortablesilencethough.IgettheimpressionLoganhasseen
the movie more than a few times, but he’s still extremely focused on the screen, even leaning forward
slightly.It’sanothersideofhimIhaven’tseen,andit’shumanizinginagoodway.Ineededsomethinglike
this.Somethingslowandmorenormal.IfeellikeIcanfinallycatchmybreath.I’mwithLoganandit’s
notlikewe’resprintingfull-speedahead.

Inanormalrelationship,menareontheirbestbehaviorforthefirstdateoreventhefirstfew.It’sonly

gradually that they start showing the many sides of their personality. But with Logan, we skipped the
entireguardedphaseoftherelationship.Iimmediatelysawhisdeepestanddarkestsecretsandhesaw
mine.Iguessbeingcarefulorguardedfeltpointlessafterthat.I’veseentheextremesofhispersonality,
butnotthemoreeverydaymomentsthatbuildabridgebetweenthoseextremes.Hecancook.Helovesan
old,goofymovie.Hewisheshewashomemoreoften.Helikestennis.Andheturnsintoasexgodwitha
paddlewhenhegetsturnedon.

Alljokingaside,Ineededthis.MorethanIknew.Ineededtoseehewasmorethanjustabeautiful

faceandbody.

Hegetsuptorefillourwineglassesafewtimes,andeitherI’mgettingmoretipsythanIrealized,or

themovieisactuallygood.IfindmyselfleaningforwardwithLogan,wineglassclutchedtightlyinmy
handasIwatchArnoldSchwarzeneggergetbrutalizedbytheT-1000inthemiddleofsomeapocalyptic
factorybrimmingwithmoltenmetal.

Logancatchesmyinterestandsmiles.HishandrestsonmylegandIlookdown,bitingmylipathow

theinnocentcontactthrillsme.Ilooktohim,butheshakeshishead,pointingtowardthescreen.“You’ve
gottoseehowitends.”

Iscowlalittle,butIadmittedlydowanttoseehowtheterminatorisgoingtosaveJohnandSarah

Connor.

“Wait,”Isayafewminuteslaterasthefinalcreditsarerolling.“WhydidwestartwithTerminator2?

Isn’tthereaTerminator1?”

Heshakeshishead.“Idon’ttalkaboutTerminator1.AsfarasI’mconcerned,theyonlyevermade

oneTerminatormovie.”

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
slightesthintofflat,tannedskin.

Myeyeswanderdownandfindthebulgeofhiscock.Isuckinabreath.
Logan’seyesnarrowslightlyandthecornerofhismouthtwitchesupinthefaintestgrin.“Youknow,if

youdroppedthatglassofwine,Iwouldbeextremelyupsetwithyou.Imighthavetopunishyou.”

Ilookattheglassinmyhandandthenbackathim,hismeaningsinkinginquickly.It’sanoffer.He’s

givingmethechoice.Maybeit’sthewine,ormaybeit’sthenew,closerconnectionIfeeltohim.Idon’t
knowwhatitisthatpushesmetodoit,butIdon’tjustdropthewineglass.Islingitdown,sprayingthe
lushwhitecarpetwithredwineandshatteringtheglasswhenitlands.

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

contact.

“Upstairs.Yourememberwheremyroomis.Gothere.Waitbytheleatherdoor.”
HegrabsmyarmasI’mabouttostand.“Avoidtheglass.”
Inod,realizingIwasactuallyabouttojustwalkrightoverthepileofbrokenglass.Icrosstheliving

roomtothehugestairs,tracingthepathIfollowedweeksagowhenIwassearchingforabathroomand
exploringhishouse.Ifindtheleatherdoorinhisbedroomandwait,notknowingexactlywhattodoor
howheexpectsmetowait.AllIknowismyheartispounding.I’mputtingmoretrustinhimthanIhave
yet.I’maloneathishouseandnooneknowsI’mhere.Thethoughtthrillsandterrifiesme.

Idecidetositontheedgeofhisbed,butheonlymakesmewaitafewminutesbeforehestalksinto

theroomwearinghissuitandmask.IfeelajoltofexcitementwhenIseetheoutfit.Likeaswitchhasbeen
flipped,he’smydomnow,completely.Ilowermyhead,feelingthedynamichasshiftedandknowingI
don’twanttodispleasehim.Iwanttobehisperfectlittlesub.Hisperfectlittleslut.

IwouldlaughatmyselfifIwasn’tafraidofupsettingLogan.Listentome.JustamonthagoIwasthe

average,sensiblewomanwitheverydayideasaboutsex.Myexperiencewithsexmayhavebeenboring
andunsatisfying,butitwasnormal.NowI’mgettingwettothinkofmyselfasanobedientlittleslut.Even
asmybodyisrespondingandreadyingitselffortheexperienceI’mabouttohave,mymindraces,trying
tomakesenseofthisstrangekinkI’vefoundmyselfsodrawnto.

AsmuchasItry,Ijustcan’tfigureoutwhythisisworkingforme.Maybeit’sbecauseitletsmesplit

offalittlepartofmyself,adifferent,lessresponsiblepartofmethatcanbeuninhibitedandletsomeone
elsecalltheshotsforonce.MaybeI’vedevelopedsometwistedself-punishingcomplexfromwatching
mymotherletthemenwhocameaftermyfatherverballyandphysicallyabuseher.OrmaybeI’vebeen
backstabbedsomanytimesIneedtohaveamanshowhecantakemycompletetrustandtreatitwithcare.
Whateverthereason,eventhethoughtofsubmittingtoLoganandlettinghimbringmeintothisworldof
leatherandpunishmentlightsafireofdesireinmeunlikeanythingI’veeverfelt.

Maybe the best approach is to stop asking why. I should just close my mind to the doubts and

questionsandlistentomybody,becausemybodyissendingamuchmoreclearmessagethanmymind.
Fuckhim.Submit.

Loganeyesmethroughthemaskhewearsandthenmovestoadresseronthefarwall.Hetwiststhe

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
insidethedoorandthesoundofsomethingheavyshifting.WhenLoganpresses,thedoorslidessmoothly
open.

“Come,”hesays.
Istand,followinghistallframeintotheroom.Theroomislarge,butnotsobigthatit’snotintimate.

Thewallsaremadeofaplush,velvetymaterialthatisadarkscarletcolor.There’snoshortageoftoys
anddeviceseither.Irecognizesome,likethespreaderbars,nippleclamps,andmetalringsontheceiling
like I’ve seen women suspended from at Club Crave. Others are more mysterious, like a tall wooden
objectthatlooksvaguelylikeacross,andaleatherchairthatlookslikesomethingfromamassageparlor.
There’salsoahugebedinthecenteroftheroomthatlooksslightlyoutofplace.

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.Thisisaroomforexploration.It’saplaceforreachingintothedarkestofsexualdesiresand
shiningalight.

Loganstandsnearthecenteroftheroom,feetwideinapowerfulstanceasheturnstofaceme.He

rubshischinthoughtfully,pacingfromsidetoside,neverlettinghiseyesleaveme.“Irecallthewayyou
watchedthewomanatClubCrave.Theonewhowasbeingfuckedbythreemen.Shewashangingfrom
strapsalotlikethese,wasn’tshe?”hemovestoatableandliftsthreelongleatherstrapswithmetalloops
ateitherend.

Inod.“Yes.Shewas,Sir.”
“Ithinkyouwouldlookgoodstrappedtomyceiling,don’tyou?”Hemovestowardme,draggingone

oftheleatherbindingsbehindhimandpickingupsomekindofcushionedcuffwiththesametypeofmetal
ringontheend.

Iflinchbackwards.PartofwhatwasgoingthroughmymindwhenIwatchedthewomanintheclub

wasamazementthatshewouldletherselfbeputinsuchahelplessposition.Beingboundbystripsofsilk
tohisbedwasonedegreeofhelplessness,butbeingsuspendedfromtheceiling…that’sawholedifferent
level.

“Takeoffyourclothes,”hesays.Hedropsthecuffandthestrapatmyfeet,turningtogathertherestof

thestrapsandcuffs,andI’mafraidtoseehisreactionifIhaven’talreadyfollowedhisordersbythetime
heturnsbackaround.

Istripoutofmydressquickly,kickingthewhitecottonpantiesIworedownwithitandunhookingmy

brabeforetossingittotheground.Ishovethewholepiletothesidewithmytoe.I’mcompletelynaked
andhe’sfullyclothed.Theairiscomfortableinhisplayroom,butagainstmybareskinitfeelsjustchilly
enoughtotemptmetocrossmyarms.HestepstowardmeandIcan’thelpnoticinghowmuchmorein
controlheseemswhenI’munclothedinfrontofhim.Ifeellikeaplaything,somethingprized.It’sagood
feeling,inadirtysortofway.

Heliftsoneofthecuffsandmeetsmyeye.Icatchthemeaningofhislookimmediately.He’sgivingme

anotherchancetobackout.He’sremindingmethatthewholepointofthisisformypleasure,andifI’m
toouncomfortabletotry,allIhavetodoiswalkaway.

Istarebackintohisgazeandraisemyarm,offeringittobefastenedwithoneofthecuffs.Hisface

showsnoexpressionashenods,fasteningcuffstobothmybicepsandmythighsjustabovetheknee.He
stepsonasmallfootstoolandfastensoneendofthestrapstotheceilingandthenadjuststhelengthofthe
strapsuntiltheyarealittleshorter.“Comehere,”hesays.

Isteptowardhim,findingitalittleawkwardtowalkwiththesomewhatbulkycuffsaroundmylegs

andarms.

“You’llhavetohookthemtoyourselfonceIliftyou.”
“Okay,”Isaynervously.
Heliftsmecarefully,almosttenderly,takingmebeneaththekneesandunderthearmslikeachild.He

makesmeseemweightlessasheliftsmeafewfeetoffthegrounduntilIcanreachthestrapsandfasten
themtomyfourcuffs.Hecarefullylowersmeuntilhe’ssurethecuffsareallfastenedcorrectlyandthen
heletsgo.Ifeelallmyweightsettledownanddistributethroughthecuffs.I’msurprisedwhenit’snot
uncomfortable.Icouldactuallyimaginetakinganice,cozynapinthisthing.

Butgiventhecurrentcircumstances,I’masfarfromsleepasIcanpossiblybe.Mypussyiswetwith

anticipation,andLoganpacesaroundbesideme,gettingsomethingreadyIcan’tquitesee.I’maboutthree
feet off the ground and my legs are spread slightly. It feels like I’m lying in a hammock, but I have to
slightlyengagemystomachtokeepmybackfromsagging.Theharnessesdotherestofthework,holding
me up by the legs, arms, and back. There’s enough slack for me to move some, but any significant
movementisrestricted.IfLoganweretowalkoutoftheroomrightnow,I’mnotsureIcouldpullmyself
upwithenoughstrengthtounhookmyself.Iwouldbetrapped.

MystomachturnsalittletothinkofhowmuchtrustI’mputtinginhim,butthethrobbingneedinmy

coreoverwhelmsthat.Ineedtojustletgo.Ineedtobeuninhibitedforonce.Ineedtoenjoythis.

Loganwalksaroundme,grippingmehardbythehairandlookingstraightatme.“It’stimeyoulearn

yourplace,Kitten.Onyourback,atmymercy.First,I’mgoingtolickyourpussyuntilyou’rebeggingfor
mycock.Butyou’vebeendifficult,soyou’regoingtogetmycock,butyou’renotgoingtogetitwhere
you’rewantingit.”

Ifeelmyeyeswidenslightly.IthinkIknowwhathemeans.Ishegoingtofuckmeintheass?I’ve

nevertriedthat,andtheideaismorethanalittlefrighteningtome,butIholdmytongue.It’slikehesaid
ourfirsttimetogether,thisisabouttestingmylimits.IfIdon’tlikeit,Icanalwaystellhimtostop.

Ikeepremindingmyselfaboutthat.Icanstopthisatanytime.Still,it’sonethingforhimtotellmeI

canstophimandanotherforhimtoactuallystop.ForallIknow,he’sneverplanningtoletmego.Guilt
creepsthroughmeattheexcitementthatideabringsme.It’sonlyashallowlevelofexcitementthough.I
needmorethansex.Ineedmorethanfindingtherightguy.Ineedtosucceedwithmybusiness.Thetruthis
all three are connected, and I don’t think I’ll be completely satisfied unless I have all three. Call me
greedy.

Hishandssnapmeoutofmythoughts.It’sstartingforrealnow.Histouchbringsmesopowerfullyto

the here and now that all the rambling musings in my mind are shut off in an instant. There’s only his
callousedtouchagainstthesoftnessofmythighs,theheatofhisbreathagainstmyclenchingpussy,andthe
soundofmyshallowbreathsasIwaitforhimtofulfillhispromise.

He doesn’t just lick at me or gently kiss his way toward my slit. He presses his face into me

forcefully,drivinghistongueintomyopeninganddraggingituptomyclit,circling,kissing,andsucking.
Theimmediacyofitmakesmethrowmyheadbackandgasp.

“Oh,Logan,”Imoan.
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.Rightnow,ashismouthkisseswetnessandheatintomymostsensitiveplace,I’mcompletely
hisandI’mcompletelyathiswill.

ThemountingpressurewithinmethreatenstoburstatanymomentandIwanttoclutchhisheadand

gently push him back, but I can’t. He’s squeezing my breasts and pushing down slightly so that I would
havetoexertinhumanforcetopullmyselfupwiththewayI’mstrappedtotheceiling.AllIcandoislay
backandbracemyself,fearingtheintensityofmycomingorgasm.

JustwhenIthinkIcan’tholditbackanymore,hestops.Idon’tknowwhyI’mafraidtocumyet,butI

rememberthewayhewantedmetowaituntilhewasinsidemelasttime.Ifeellikeit’ssomekindoftest
toseeifIcanstillfigureouthiswishesevenifhedoesn’ttellmewhathewants.Hemovestomyside,
stillfullyclothedandmasked.HeleansdownslightlytokissmeandIcantastemyselfonhim,butIdon’t
care.It’spartofhisshowofdominancetomakemedoit,andIgladlyplayalong.Anythingtohavehis
lipsagainstmineandhishottongueprobingmymouth.

Ihearafaintzippingsoundandhepullsbackashefreeshiscock.MycorethrobswhenIlookatit,

getting even wetter, which I didn’t think was possible. His dick stands fully erect, veins pulsing faintly
withhisheartbeat.Ilickmylips,unabletotakemyeyesawayfromit.

Itseemslikeavulnerability,theonlyvulnerabilityinhisotherwiseimpenetrablearmor.He’smydom.

He’sallpowerfulandhiswillisthelawwhenI’minthisroom.Butthatperfect,fatcockofhisismyone
weaponagainsthim.It’stheonewayIhaveofbendinghiswilltomine,andifheletsme,I’mgoingtosee
justhowwellhecanmaintainhiscontrol.

AsIhoped,hereachesupandadjustsmystrapsslightlysoIsinkdownafewinchesuntilhiscockis

levelwithmymouth.

“Suckmycock,Kitten,”hesays,voicealow,rumblinggrowl.
Theharnessaroundmybicepgivesmethefreedomtobendattheelbowandwrapmyfingersaround

hiswaitingcock,takingthevelvetyheadofhiscockintomymouth.Myeyestrailuptohisface.Hiseyes
aresqueezedshut,foreheadscrunchedinpleasure.Hislipsareslightlyparted.IlovethatIcanaffecthim
likethis,anditonlypushesmefurther,daringmetodomoreanddoitbetter.

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’sreadingmymind,hegripsmebythehairandstartstofuckmyface.Ionlyhaveasplitsecondtofeel
reliefthathe’sholdingmyheadupformebeforehestartspushinghimselfsofarintomythroatthathe
triggers my gag reflex. I try to swallow around his cock, but I gag a little. He pulls back, leaving me
gaspingrightalongwithhim.Myeyeswater,butIfixhimwithadeterminedlook,leaningforwardtotake
himbackinmymouth,swirlingmytonguearoundtheheadofhiscock.

Igrininsatisfactionwhenhehastopullhimselfquicklyoutofmymouth.“You’retryingtomakeme

cumbeforeIwantto,aren’tyou?”Heasks.Hisvoiceisstern,butthere’sahintofamusementinit.

Idomybestattemptatashrugwhilestrappedtotheceiling.
Hebiteshislipandgrins.“Iknewyouwouldbetheperfectfuckingsubmissive.”Hestridesacross

the room to a table and strips off his jacket. He tosses it to the floor carelessly, like it doesn’t cost
thousandsofdollars.Heunbuttonshiscuffsandthenhisshirt,lettingthosefalltoo.Hisbroadbacktapers
tohisnarrowwaist.Iwanttorunmyhandsdowneverylastmuscleonprouddisplay,butyetagain,heis
callingtheshots,andhedoesn’tseemintenttoletmehavefreeroamofhisbodyyet.Justonemoreway
he’sshowingmehisdominance.

Heundoeshisbeltandthenworkshisbuttonopenandslideshispantsdown.Hisblackbriefshughis

amazingassandgivemeaperfectviewofhislean,powerfullegs.Thebriefscomeofflast,andallIcan
doissighatthesightofhimcompletelynaked.Itracethestronglinecuttingdownhisback,splittingthe
two wide slabs of muscle on either side, following it down to his ass, which is tight and absolutely
biteable.Ifhegivesmeachance,Imightjusthavetoconfirmhowbitableitreallyis.

Heturnsandwalkstowardme,confidentinhisnudity,asheshouldbe.There’snosparefatonhim

and he’s completely and totally aesthetic. Art students would probably wet themselves if they had a
chancetodrawhisformandstudyit.ThoughIdoubtfemalestudentswouldmakeitpastthestaringphase.

It’s only when he positions himself between my legs with a bottle of clear liquid in his hand that I

rememberhispromise.I’llgethiscock,butnotwhereIwantit.Iinvoluntarilyclench,tryingtosqueeze
mylegstogether.Hispowerfulhandspushthemfartherapart.

“Relax,”hesays,easinghislubricatedfingerintomyass.Ifeelmybodyresistingatfirst,makingthe

sensationofhiminsidemepinchuncomfortably.

“Trustme.Relax.Closeyoureyesandletgo,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
secondfingerintome.

“Stayrelaxed,”hesays,slowlypullinghisfingersoutandgrippinghimselfbytheroot.Heeasesthe

tipofhiscockupwarduntilitpressesthetightringofmyass.

Ifeelmyselfclenchagain,stiffening.
“Relax,”hesays,moreforcefulthistime.
Iclosemyeyes,picturingmyselfstraighteningracksfullofbabyclothesIdesignedinmyownbrick

andmortarstore.Afaintsmilepullsatmylipsandmybodystartstorelax.

I hear the bottle he holds click open and there’s a pause as he rubs what must be more lube on his

cock.Hechucksthebottletothegroundandlinesupagain,easinghimselfintome.There’sabriefstabof
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’reassissofuckingtight.”
“OhGod,”Isay,gaspingandsqueezingmyeyesshutashebeginstoincreasehispace.I’mshockedat

how good it feels, and when his free hand plunges into my pussy with three fingers, the pleasure
practicallyexplodes.Thesensationofbeingfilledinbothholesisindescribablygood,andbeyondthatis
theenjoymentofknowinghe’stakingmewherenomanhaseverdaredtobeforehim.He’smarkingmein
awaythatcanneverbeundone,andIdon’twanthimtostop.

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

position.

Hethrustsintomehard,makingthebindingsclatterandshakewiththeforceofhisthrust.Igripmy

legsaroundhim,pussyclenchingaroundhisfingersashiscockstretchesmytightring.Heincreaseshis
pace until it’s punishing. Each thrust sends me bouncing backwards, only to slide back into his
relentlesslypumpingcockandfingers.Myworldisablurofsensationandbliss.Mymouthisopenedina
permanent,silentgasp.Thepleasureistoointensetoevenmoan,allIcandoisholdontightandridethe
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.Iletmyheadfallback,neckbentandexposedasIgaspinshallowbreathaftershallowbreath.
Ecstasytearsthroughmewithblindingforce,washingawayallmydoubtandworries.

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,andIhavetogriptheropesholdingmetotheceilingforsupportwhilemybodyshakesand
quivers.

“OhmyGod,”Igaspfinally.
Logan smirks, blowing out a puff of air that knocks a loose strand of his hair out of his face. “You

wereamazing,”hesays,reachingtoundothestrapsholdingmylegs.Heeasesmedowncarefullyonce
mylegsarefree.Oncehefreesmyarms,Ifeelsuddenlyunsureofwhatheexpects.I’mstandingnaked
besidehim,bodystillcoveredinhiscum.

HeanswersmyquestionbypickingmeupasifIweighednothingandcarryingmetohisbedroom.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
fourshowerheads.Ifeelaslightpaininmyass,butit’smild.IhaveafeelingI’mgoingtoenjoyitforthe
nextfewdaysbecauseitwillbeareminderofhowmydomenjoyedandusedme.

“Niceshower,”Isaytofillthesilencethathasstretchedbetweenus.
Hesmirks,takingmyhandandhelpingmetostepin.HemovesmeuntilIstandinthecenterofthe

fourstreamsofwater.Itfeelsamazing.Hotwaterpattersagainstmefromeverydirection,andtherising
steambathesmeinapurifyingmist.Throughthecloudofwhitevapor,IcanseeLogan’sdarkoutlineand
thehintofhowhungrilyhewatchesme.Itmakesmefeelgoodtobedesiredsopowerfully.Idon’tfeel
anyofmynormalinsecuritiesabouthowthegapbetweenmythighsisn’tbigenough,orthepatchofskin
that shows cellulite in the wrong light that marks my legs. None of my normal shortcomings seem
importantwhenI’mwithLogan.It’sasifnoticingsuchsmallimperfectionsisbeneathhim.Heseemsto
cravemejustasIam,andthatknowledgeisincrediblyempowering.

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

shouldsay.

Loganmovesbehindmeandgentlytiltsmyheadbacksomyhairgetscaughtinoneofthestreamsof

water.Herunshishandacrossmyscalp,workingthewaterdeepintomyhair.Hegrabsabottlefroma
marble shelf and flicks the cap up with one hand, squeezing some of the gel out and rubbing it into my
hair.Theshampoofrothsinmyhairquicklyandanamazingscentfillstheshower.Ilosemyselfintheway

hisstrongfingersfeelthreadingthroughmyhair,pullingtheshampoothrougheverylaststrandcarefully.
WhenIsneakalookathisface,helooksabsolutelyabsorbedinhistask,asifhe’senjoyingitasmuchas
Iam.

Ismile,bitingmylip.“Mmmm.Thatfeelssogood.”
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,almostasiftherewasalcoholinit.It’snotabadfeelingthough,andtheinitialburnisquickly
replacedbyanicycoldness,makingmefeellikemyhairismorecleanthanithaseverbeen.Whenhe
washestheconditionerfree,theintensityofthecolddullsuntilit’sjustapleasanttingleacrossmyscalp.

Hegrabsabarofsoapnextandworksupalatherinhishands,eyeingmepurposefully.“Yougota

littledirtyinthere,Kitten.IthinkIshouldcleanyouup.”

Igrin.“Youdidmakethemess.”
Hechuckles.“Fairpoint.”
Hestartsatmycollarbones,rubbingthesoapcarefullyintomyskin,eyesfollowinghismovementsas

ifhe’stransfixed.Hishandsrubcirclesofsoapupfrommycollarbonestomyshouldersandthenthey
driftdown,leavingtrailsofsudsuntilhefindsmybreasts.Hepauseslongenoughtogetmoresoap,and
thendivesbackintosoapingmybreasts.Iblushwhenhemakesitveryclearhisgoalisn’tonlytoclean
me,becausehespendswaymoretimethannecessarymassagingthesoapintomychest,fingersdragging
tantalizingpathsofpleasureacrossmyerectnipples.

Hiscockisfullyhardagain,andIcan’tstopeatinghimupwithmyeyesfromheadtotoe.Myassmay

stillfeelusedandmybodyweak,butIstillwantmore,except…Idon’tknowifhe’splanningtohavesex
withmeasmydomrightnow.Thethoughtsettlesinmymindlikepoison,spreadingthroughmybodyand
dampeningmyarousaluntilit’sjustasmallember.Itrytotellmyselfitdoesn’tmatter,butit’stoolatefor
that.Icanalreadyfeeltheold,familiarnumbnesssettlingin.

Heeventuallysoapstherestofmybody,ticklingmewhenhisthumbplungesinmybellybuttonand

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
forcemyselftoincreasemybreathing.Itfeelswrong.Off.Hehasn’tstrippedcontrolfromme.

Hishandsstarttomovefaster,andhestartstowalkmetowardthebackwall,pressingmybackinto

the slightly cold tiles. My chest heaves as he kisses my neck and mouth, then bends to suck my nipples
hardenoughtomakemegasp.Hestraightensandliftsmebythethighs,guidinghiscockintome.I’mstill
wetenoughfrombeforethathiscockslidesrightin.

Butashestartstothrustintomealmosttenderly,kissingmyneckandbreathingheavily,Ifeelasense

ofpanicbuild.It’shappeningagain.It’slikewithallthemenbefore.He’stryingtofuckmewithoutanyof
the domination or submission and I don’t know if I’ll be able to cum like this. Yes, he’s the most
breathtakingmanI’veeverlaideyeson.Yes,hiscockisridiculouslyperfectandIcanfeelitstretching
mywallsandreachingdeeperinsidemethanIcouldimagine.Butsomethingisn’tright.

Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisneck,eyesopenandfaceamaskashisbreathingintensifies.IrealizeI’m

goingtohavetopretendtocum,soIstartmakingmyselfbreatheheavier,moaningoverhisshoulder.Ican
seemyblurryreflectioninthemirrorattheotherendofthebathroomandthewaymyeyeslookdeadasI
moan,thewaymylegsarewrappedbehindhischiseledback,bouncingslightlywitheverythrust.

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
setstocleaningmypussy.

“Iseverythingokay?”heasksafterafewseconds.
“Yes.It’sperfect,”Isay,hopinghedoesn’tcatchthenoteofstraininmyvoice.

LOGAN

wipesweatfrommyeyesandsinkdownonthebenchbesideOlivia.She’ssweatingtoo,butsmiling

likeanidiotasshedropsherracquetandtowelsoff.

“Ifyou’replanningtobrag,let’sjustgetitoverwith,”Isay.
She gives me an innocent look and shrugs. “Beating you at tennis isn’t really worth bragging about

anymore.”

Iglareatherandtossatennisballatherleg,butshemanagestoswatitaway,grinning.
“Sore loser, as always,” she says, tsking at me. “When am I going to meet this girl that has you

blowingmeoff?Iwanttoseeherplay.”

Ipursemylips.“It’scomplicatedbetweenus.Andworkhasbeenanabsolutenightmarelately.Ilost

half my investors and we’ve been organizing street teams to round up new small businesses. The tax
implicationsalonearegoingto…”ItrailoffwhenIseeOliviapretendingtosleep.Herheadisthrown
backdramaticallyandhermouthhangsopen.“Boring.Iknow,”Isay.

Shepretendstowakeup.“What?Wereyoutalkingaboutyourcompanyagain?Imusthavedozedoff.”
“Yeah,yeah.Maybeyoushouldhavegoneintoactinginsteadoftennis.”
“Howcomplicatedcanitbebetweenyoutwo?Iknowyou’reintoallthatweirdstuff,butImean,at

the end of the day it’s probably just like any other relationship, except you like her to call you daddy
whileyouguysfuck.”

Icringe.“YouknowIhatewhenyoutalkaboutit.”
Shesmirks.“Iknow.That’swhyIstilldoit.Seriouslythough,howcomplicatedcanitbe?”
Ileanback,tappingmyracquetagainstmyknee.“Apparentlyitcanbeprettycomplicated.The‘weird

stuff’isallnewtoher,andshe’shavingtroubledrawingalinebetweenthefantasyandreality.”

Olivialooksthoughtful.“Oh.Thatactuallydoessoundalittlecomplicated.Youmeanshewantsyou

tobeherdaddyinthebedroombutshe’shavingtroublestayinginterestedinyououtsidethesexbecause
you’renotreallyherdaddy?”

IgiveOliviaaconfusedlook.“Whatisallthisdaddyshit?No…Look,I’mnotgoingtodetailallthis

withyou.Ihavenodesiretoknowwhatkindofweirdshityou’reintoandIdon’t--”

“Pegging,”Oliviadeadpans.
Istareopenlyather,feelingdisgustandamazement.
Shebarksalaugh.“I’mjustkidding.That’ssick.Butyeah,you’renevergoingtolearnwhatweirdshit

I’minto.I’mtheonlyoneinthispairwhohastobearthatmentalpoison.”

Isigh.“Ican’tfigureoutifyou’retryingtohelprightnoworifyou’retryingtoirritateme.”
“Ican’tdoboth?”sheasks.
Ilaugh.“Goodpoint.Iguessyou’realwaysdoingalittlebitofboth.”

“Well,”shesays.“Iwouldthinkevenifthesexisgreat,therelationshipisdoomedifyouguysaren’t

compatibleoutsideofit.”

Irunahandthroughmyhair.“Whensheletsherguarddown,wegetalongbetterthanI’veevergotten

alongwithawoman,butshejustputsthesewallsupsometimes.Idon’tgetit.”

“Welcome to women, Logan. I’m proud that you’re finally learning to accept you will never

understandus.”

MMALINE

bentoveratthefootofmybed.Herassisredfromthepaddle.Shewasfifteenminuteslate

gettingtomyhouse,whichhasbecomeahabitofhers.IthasbeenalmosttwoweekssinceIstrappedher
totheceilingandassfuckedherforthefirsttime.We’vebeenseeingeachotherregularlysincethen,but
I’vestartedtofeelagrowingriftbetweenus.I’vebeenpushingthethoughtsdownasmuchasIcan,butI
can’t help noticing how much more wild she is getting in her tastes. She seems to be deliberately
disobeyingmetogetasmuchpunishmentasshecan,andI’vebeenrelyingonhertotellmewhenshe’s
reachedherlimit,butI’mstartingtothinkshehasnolimit,likeshewantstobehurt.

I’ve never gotten off on pain before. I only enjoy using pain as a counterpoint to enhance pleasure.

Sadism was never my kink. Wanting pain for the sake of pain is what some people are into, and that
doesn’tbothermeintheslightest.WhatbothersmeisEmmaline’ssexualneedsarelookingmorelikea
drugaddictwhoischasingthefirsthigh.Idon’tbelieveshe’sreallymasochistic.Ithinkshe’sjusttrying
toescalatethedangereverytimewe’retogethertogetthesamerushshefeltthefirsttime.I’mnotwilling
tostartbringingthepaintoapointwhereI’mdoingrealdamage,andshehasbroughtusrighttothecusp
ofthat.

Ourinteractionsoutsidetheplayroomhavebeenhardtoread,tosaytheleast.I’vebeenwithherat

theclubthelasttwoweekendsandatmyplaceplentyoftimes,butourinteractionsoutsidetheplayroom
or the club are always cut short. I’d almost think she was making excuses to leave, and I have no idea
why.Ijustwanttofindoutwhatsheneedsandgiveittoher.I’vetriedvanillasexwithherafewtimes,
thinkingshemightbecravingsomenormalcy,butshehasbeenslightlystiffandunresponsiveeverytime
I’vetried.

Itallhasmefrustrated,andwhenIbringthepaddledownonheragainIdoitwithmoreforcethanI

intended.Theblowmakesherlurchforwardandloseherbalance,fallingtoherface.

Ikneelquicklyatherside.“Emmaline,areyou--”
Shepushesmeoff.“Iwaslate,Sir.Ineedtobepunished.”Hereyesaredistant,focusedonsomething

beyondthewallahead.

I stand, looking down at the paddle and the angry red spot on her milky skin. A wave of disgust

overcomesme.Ithrowthepaddledown.“We’redonefortoday.”

“What?”sheasks,turningherheadtowardme,eyeswide.
“Isaidwe’redone.”
“No,”shesays.“Please.Ihaven’tbeenpunishedenough.”
“I’m your fucking dom,” I growl. The anger boiling up in me is from the frustration of not

understanding. She’s not being open with me, and she’s turning what is supposed to be a mutually
pleasurable experience into something darker and twisted because she won’t tell me what’s going on.
“Youdon’tgettodecidewhenthepunishmentisover.”

Shelowersherhead,sinkinglowonherkneesalmostlikeshe’sbowingtome.
“Getup.Isaidwe’redone.”
Shestands,waitingtobetoldwhattodo.Herblindobediencegratesonme.Iwanthertobeopen

withme.Iwanthertobeherself.Thedominantsubmissiverelationshipneverbotheredmebefore,butI

waswithwomenIdidn’tcareasmuchabout.AndwithLanaitwasalwaysagame,somethingweturned
on and off at will. Now all I can see is this beautiful, ambitious young woman before me degrading
herself.Thereissupposedtobeahealthylineinthiskindofrelationship.She’ssupposedtoknowwhat
we do here has no bearing on who she is outside. She’s letting this become something more than just a
fantasy.She’susingittohidefromsomething,andI’mdonehelpingherdoit.Whethersherealizesitor
not,she’sonlygoingtoexacerbatewhateverproblemsshe’sfacinglikethis.

Istriptheleathermaskoffandthrowittothefloor.Igripherbytheshoulders.“What’sgoingon?”I

ask.

Shekeepshereyesontheground.“Nothing,Sir.”
“Logan,”Isay.“CallmeLogan.
“Nothing,Logan.”
MyhandflashesoutandIonlybarelymanagetostopmyselffromhittingher,notasherdom,andnot

forthesakeofpleasure,butoutoffrustration.Fuck.I’veneverhitawoman,notoutsideoftheroleplay,at
least.Ifeeldirtyandshittyimmediately.

Ifeelworsewhenshedoesn’treact.Shejustwaits,expressionblanklikeshewouldhavedeservedit

ifIhither.

Iclenchmyfists.“Emmaline...”
Shelooksupatmealittleuncertainly.IseetearswellinginhereyesandIreachouttorubthemaway

withmythumb.Sheflinchesslightlyatmytouchanditripsatmyheart.I’mgoingtofixthis.Idon’tknow
howyet,butI’mgoingtomakeitallbetter.Somehow.

Isigh,leadingheroutoftheplayroomandgrabbingarobeforhertocoveruphernudity.Isitheron

theedgeofmybedandsitbesideher.

Fuck.WheredidIgosowrongwithher?Ipullherclose,huggingherasshecriesintomyarms.Ifelt

like we were on the right path the night we watched the movie. It seemed like she was starting to let
herself open up to me and she was going to try making things between us work both sexually and
emotionally.Afterthatnight,everythingbetweenusjustwentofftherails.Hard.

Emmalinehangsherhead,mumblingsoquietlyIcanbarelyhear.“Idon’twanttodisappointyou.”
“Youcouldneverdisappointme,”IwhisperasIrunahandthroughherhair.“Never.”
Igiveherallthetimesheneeds,holdinghercloseandwaitinguntilshefeelsready.“Icanonlycum

whenI’mdominated,”shesaysquietly.“Idon’tknowwhy.Idon’thaveagoodreason.IguessI’mjusta
dirtyslutwho--”

“Hey,”Isayfirmly,pullingbackuntilIcanlookintohereyes.“Don’ttalklikethat.You’renotaslut.

Every fucking person on this planet is in to something. If they say they aren’t, they’re fucking liars.
Everyonehasakink,whethertheyknowitornot.”

Shenodsandanotherwaveoftearsrollsfromhereyes.Ismooththemaway,hatingtoseehercry.I

feellikeit’sopeningarawholeinmychestandIneedtoseeherhappyagainorit’sgoingtoripmeapart
fromtheinside.

I spend a long time just holding her there, mind running through what the next step is. In the past, I

wouldhavejustcuttieswithher.WithEmmaline,that’snotanoption.Idon’tknowhowyet,butI’mgoing
tohelpherfindawaythroughthis.

“T

EMMALINE

hankyou,”Isay,hangingupandsighingwithrelief.

Scarlettlooksupexpectantly.“Soit’sdone?”

“Yep,”Isay.“Onecreditcardcompletelypaidoff.Onlyfivetogo.”
Shelaughs,shrugging.“Still.Youdidthatinjustoveramonth.Atthisrateyou’llbecaughtupinno

time.”

“Yeah,theextramoneyhasreallyhelped.Atthisrate,thebusinessmightdowellenoughtoletmequit

atClubCrave.”

“Soyou’renotlikingit?”asksScarlett.
IsitonaboxofvinylthatIhaven’topenedyet,studyingmyfingers.“Whydidyouleave?”Iask.I

haven’teveraskedScarlettwhyshelefttheclub.ForaslongasI’veknownher,shehasbeenasexually
openperson.Itseemedlikeanimpossibilitytooffendhersensibilitiesorcatchherbysurprise.Ifanyone
couldthriveatClubCrave,itisher.

Shecringesalittle,buthopsuponatableandlooksthoughtful.“Thingsgotmessy.”
Ilaughalittle.“Icanrelatetothat.Whathappened?”
“Well,myparentsfoundout,forstarters.Theyalwayswantedmetobeanengineer.WhenIwasin

school,teacherskeptpushingformetoskipgradesbecauseIwasanaturalatmath.Allmyfriendsthought
Iwasgoingtogotocollegeandstudysomeadvancedmathematicsthatwouldmakemostpeople’sheads
spin.Thetruthwasitneverfeltright.Yeah,itcameeasytome,butitdidn’texciteme.SowhenIstudied
graphicartanddesigninsteadofmath,myparentsneverreallygotoverit.

“Afterthat,theywerealittlefrosty,butIthinktheygraduallystartedtoacceptit.Theysawhowhappy

designwasmakingmeandlearnedtolivewithit.Wewereneverwealthy,andtheschoolIwenttodidn’t
offerscholarshipsunlesstheywereforthearts.SoIwaspayingitallmyself.ThatwaswhenIgotinto
ClubCrave.ImetaguymySophomoreyearwhowasintoBDSMandintroducedmetoit.Hisparents
wereultrawealthy,sohecouldaffordthemembership.

“IwasofferedapositionafterheandIbrokeup,andItookit.Iworkedthereforafewmonths.Imet

someguys.Somewereserious,somewerejustforfun.Istilldon’tknowwhoitwas,butoneoftheguysI
metknewmydad.Anoldhighschoolfriendwhowentontorunsomemegacorporationorsomething,
probably.Whenmyparentsfoundout…Itwasthefinalstrawforthem.”

Ishakemyhead.“TheirlittleengineerwasworkingataBDSMclubandstudyingdesign.Yeah.Ican

seehowthatwasashocker.”

Shelaughs.“Yeah.Shockerisanunderstatement.Itwaslikeanuclearexplosion.Theystartedmaking

allthesecrazypostsonFacebookaboutme.TheydraggedmethroughthemudinfrontofeveryoneI’ve
everknown.Ineverreallyforgavethemforthat.Itriednottoletit,butitruinedBDSMforme.Ihadso

manyrelativesandoldfriendsmessagingmeonlinetellingmewhataslutIwasandhowwrongwhatI
wasdoingwasthatsomewherealongthelineitpoisonedthefun.”

“Wow,”Isayslowly.“I’msorry,Scarlett.Ihadnoidea.”
Shesmiles.“That’soneofthethingsIlikedaboutyou.”
Ismirk.
“So.Ispilledmybeans,”shesays,sighingandslappingherthighs.“You’reobviouslygoingthrough

something.It’syourturn.”

Isuckinabreaththroughmyteeth.Iknewthequestionwascoming,andIthinkIevenwanttogetitall

offmychest,butvoicingmythoughtsmakesthemfeelmorereal,andI’mafraidofthat.

“Um,”Isay,fiddlingwithmyfingersandlookingdown.“Youknowhowwhenpeoplegetaddictedto

adrug,theykeepneedingmoreandmoretogetthesameexperience?”

“Yeah…”saysScarlett.“Didoneofthoseassholesgetyouonsomething?It’snotheroine,isit?”
Thelookonherfacemomentarilybreaksmeoutofmynervousness.Ilaugh.“God.No.I’mjustusing

itasanexample.”Thesmilefadesquicklyfrommyface.“IthinkI’mhavingthatproblemwiththesex.It
feltsogoodandsoincrediblethefirsttime.Ididn’t--stilldon’t--understandwhyIlikeditsomuch,butI
did.Itfeltdangerousandwrong,butthatjustturnedmeonevenmore,youknow?”

Scarlettsmilesalittlenostalgically.“Trustme,Iknow.”
“Atfirstjustthethreatofpunishmentwasalmostenoughto…er,”Iclearmythroat.“Yeah.Well,now

it’s like I can’t enjoy it unless I’m controlled. And I need him to take it farther every time to still feel
dominated.LikeIneedtobeafraidhe’sgoingtoactuallydopermanentdamageorsomething.Anything
lessjustfeelslikeagame.”

Scarlett frowns. “Maybe you need to pull back some. I mean, when I first started college, I could

drinkonecupofcoffeeandstayupallnight.BySophomoreyear,Ineededmorelikeeightcups.SoIquit
forafewweeksandthenwhenIstartedagainitwaslikeitusedtobe.Maybeyouneedtojust,youknow,
drinklesscoffee.”

I purse my lips thoughtfully. “You might be right. Yeah.” I feel a smile spreading across my face.

“Yeah… That’s a really good idea.” I stand quickly, crossing the distance between us and hugging her
tightly.“Thankyou.”

It’s already dark when I’m leaving the office. Scarlett is still inside finishing up a design she’s

workingon.

Thecityisrelativelycalmatthistimeoftheevening,somewherebetweenwhenmostpeoplegohome

from work and come back out for the night life. I’m looking down in my purse to fish out my phone
somethingcatchesmyeye.Afigureontheothersideoftheroadwasmotionless,faceturnedtowardme,
butassoonasIlookedup,heturnedawayandwalkedtheotherdirection.IcanalmostbelieveIimagined
it,butI’mnotsosure.

Ifrown,walkingtowardmyhouse,butfeelingthetemptationtocallLogan.Idon’twanttosoundsilly.

Logan!Pleasehelp,IthinkIsawaguylookingatme!Ishovemyphonebackinmypurseandtrynotto
lookovermyshoulderlikeI’mparanoid.Ilastaboutfivesecondsbeforeglancingsideways.

MyheartstartsthumpingheavilywhenIseethesamemanisnowwalkingmydirection.He’sstillon

theothersideoftheroad,buthe’salotcloserthanwhenIlastsawhim.Somethingabouthimisfamiliar.
He’swearingaheavyjacketandahat,butIfeellikethewayhewalksremindsmeofsomeoneIknow.I
justcan’tputmyfingeronwho.He’snotquitetallorbroadenoughtobeLogan,though.

Idomybesttopushitfrommymind,whichiseasierthanitshouldbe.I’vebeensofuckingconfused

lately,andI’mnotusedtotheuncertainty.MythoughtsgostraighttoLogan.Ithinkofhishard,gorgeous
eyesandthewayIfeelwhentheyareonme,likethere’snothingintheworldmoreimportantthantobeat
thecenterofhisgaze.Ithinkofhowgooditfeelstohavehisbig,stronghandsonmybody,abouthow
smallandfragilehemakesmefeel.

I know I want to be with him. The truth of that knowledge glows in my chest so powerfully I can

almostfeelitburning.Ijustdon’tknowthatIcanbewhatheneedsmetobe.

IthinkIknowwhatIneedtodotomakethingsworkbetweenus,butI’mafraidLoganwon’tbeokay

withit.I’mmeetinghimfordinnerinanhour,whichisararity.Iusuallygostraighttohisplayroomand
findanexcusetoleaveshortlyafter.Thefearthathemighttrytohaveregularsexoutsidetheroomalways
scaresmeoff.

IturnwhenIhearafootscuffonthepavementjustbehindme.Themaninthejacketisreachingfor

me, arm extended and fingers splayed. My heart explodes in my chest. The moment slows down, his
fingersextendingtowardmewithaslowinevitability.Iseehisfacethen.

Ronnie.Mymom’sboyfriend.
Iscreamandswathisarmaway,turningtorun.Threecollegeageguysemergefromacoffeeshopjust

infrontofmeatthesametime.Ifnotforthem,wewouldhavebeenentirelyaloneonthestreet.Theystop
short, taking in the scene quickly and turning angry looks toward Ronnie, who tightens his hood and
hurriesoffintheotherdirection.

“Youokay?”asksoneoftheguys.HereachesformeandIflinchback.
“Y-yes.Thankyou.Ineedtogethome,”
“Yousure?Wecouldwalkyoubackif--”
“I’msure.Thankyou.Really.Ihavetogo.”
IadjustthestrapofmypurseandwalkasfastasIcomfortablycandownthesidewalk,awayfromthe

men and from Ronnie. I’m still gasping for breath like I just got done sprinting. What the hell was he
doing? My fingers itch to reach for the phone and call Logan. I want to tell him everything. I know he
wouldfollowthroughonthepromisehemadeweeksagotokeepRonnieinline,butIcan’tmakemyself
call.Ononehand,Ronniemighthavejustbeendrunkandwanderingthestreetswhenhesawme.Maybe
hejustwantedtosayhelloandIscreamedinhisface.Iwouldn’tblamehimforrunningafterthat.

Ontheotherhand…ThewayheturnedawaywhenIfirstsawhimandthewayhewaiteduntilmy

backwastohimtosneakuponmedoesn’tsitright.Whatmotivationcouldhepossiblyhavetowantto
hurt me? He knows I’m basically broke. He knows my mom would never forgive him if something
happened to me. Unless he’s thinking he might be able to get something out of Logan if he used me as
leverage.

Thehairsonthebackofmyneckstandup.Ronnieisascumbag,butIdon’tthinkhewouldresortto

that.Igetasickfeelinginmystomachthough,andagainstmybetterjudgment,callmymom.

“Emmaline,”shesaysthroughthephone.There’safaintnoteofsurpriseinhervoice.
“Hey,mom…Ijustwantedtomakesurethingsarestillokayathome.Youknow,Imean,betweenyou

and,uh…”Itrailoff,feelingstupid.“IsRonnietreatingyouokay?AfterLogancame,Iwasworried-”

“It’snothingIcan’thandle.”
Hervoicesoundsstrange.Strainedandsoft.“Areyouokay,mom?”
Ihearhersniff.There’sapauseasthesoundsofhercryingcomeoverthephone.Despiteeverything

she’sputmethrough,Ihatehearingherupset.“Whatdidhedotoyou?”Iask,voicehard.

“It’snotthat,honey.It’sjust...Look,Ididsomethinkingabouteverything.IthinkI’veaskedtoomuch

outtayou.Iwaswantingtotellyouthat,butIdidn’tknowhowtosayit.Okay?Ihaven’tdonerightby
you,Emmaline.”

Istopinmytracks,staringdownatthesidewalkwhilemyvisionblursfromtears.Iwanttojusttake

herapologyandsavorit.Iwanttoacceptthisatfacevalue,selfishlystoringthewordsawaytorepeatin
myheadoverandoveruntilsomeofthepainofbetrayalstartstomeltaway.ButIcan’t.IseeRonnie’s
faceandhishandreachingformeandIknowsomethingmoreisgoingon.

“Mom,whathappened?”Iask.
There’s a long pause and I hear a chair creak. “Ronnie and I have always fought, you know that.

Sometimeshedoestakeittoofarandhegetsphysical,butit’sonlywhenhehasbeendrinking.Iknow
whentokeepmydistanceandwhenIcanstandmyground.I’veadaptedandlearned.It’sjust,um,”she
says,voiceshaking.

Itbreaksmyhearttohearherlikethis.ShehastriedtotakeadvantageofmesomanytimesI’velost

count,butshehasalwaysbeenasurvivorandshehasalwaysbeenafighter.Shedoeswhatshehastoto
getby,evenifitmeanstryingtogetmoneyoutofheronlydaughter.Idon’tknowifI’veeverheardher
soundvulnerablebefore,andIdon’tlikeit.IthasaprotectivenessIhaven’tfeltinalongtimewellingup
insideme.

“Twonightsagoitwasreallybad.Ithreatenedtocallthecopsandhetoldmehe’d--”Shesniffsand

pauses,needingtogatherherselfbeforeshecontinues.“Hetoldmehe’d“fuckingkillmybitchass”ifI
dared.I’veheardworsefromhimbefore,butIneverbelievedhimbefore.Hewasinthekitchenandhis
handwasrestingonthisbigknifeandIactuallythoughthemightdoit.”

“I’mgoingtogetyououtofthattrailer,mom.Youcan’tstaywithhimanymore.”
“Ican’tjustleave.Doyouknowwhathe’ddoifIlefthim?”
“I’mworriedaboutwhathe’sgoingtodoifyoustay!”IforcemyselftobreathemoreslowlywhenI

realize I’m shouting into my phone on a deserted sidewalk in the middle of the night. The memory of
Ronnieandmyconversationwithmymomgetsmyfeetmovingagain,morequicklythanbefore.Ineedto
justgetinside,whereit’ssafe.

“Iwouldn’tknowwhattodowithouthim.”
“Noneofthatmattersrightnow.Themostimportantthingisthatyougetsomewheresafe.Wecancall

thepoliceandletthemsorttherestout.”

Shesighs.“Ican’taffordaplaceonmyown,Emmaline.AndIcouldn’tstayhere.You’dhavetolend

mesomemoney.”

Foronce,Idon’tresentherfortryingtogetmoneyoutofme.Irealizewithawaveofsadnessthatmy

firstdebt-freecreditcardisgoingtogobackintotheredverysoon.“That’sfine.I’llworksomethingout
withyou.Youshouldcometomyhousetonightandwe’llfindaplaceforyoutomorrow.”

Ittakesalittlemoreconvincing,butIfinallygetmymomtoagreetostaywithmetonight.OnceIget

inside,Idon’tevenhavetheenergytoshower.Ijustcollapseonthecouch,staringattheceiling.

IspendafewminutestryingtodecideifIshouldcallLogan.It’snothardtoimaginehowthatmight

playout.IcallLogan.LoganconfrontsRonnie.Theyfightandsomeonegetshurt.Nothingisresolved.

No.Theanswerisjusttogetmymomsomewheresafe,callthepoliceinthemorning,andhopethey

canpickRonnieupandscarehimintoleavingusalone.

Ijusthopemymomstickswithherresolutiontostayawayfromhim.Iknowenoughaboutdomestic

abusetoguessshemighthavesecondthoughts.Shemightevensneakbacktohim.I’lldowhatIcanto
preventit.HavingmymombackandawayfromRonnie’spoisonousinfluenceaftersolongisaprivilege
IneverthoughtI’dget,andI’mnotreadytoletitslipaway.

MEET

LoganataplacecalledCafedeLorenz.It’snestledonasmallgrassystripoflandsurroundedby

thelake.Thelightsofthecitystretchacrossthedarkwaters,brokenupbytinyripples.Thefaintsoundof
classical music drifts along the chill evening air and reaches my ears, along with some of the most
mouthwateringscentsI’veeversmelled.

Logansayssomethingtohisdriverbeforethemanpullsaway,leavingusarminarminfrontofthe

restaurant.Wecrossthroughasmall,butmeticulouslymaintainedgardenpathandenterthroughaterraced
entryway. Logan wears an impeccable suit. His hair is pushed to the side and as usual, a few stubborn
strands fall perfectly out of place. He has a few days worth of scruff on his face, too, completing the

ruggedlookhesocompletelynails.

He’squiettonight,andIcan’thelpfeelingtheriftbetweenus.Somethingisbroken,andIdon’tthink

eitherofusknowsquitehowtofixit.AndnowI’mholdingtheburningsecretaboutRonniefromhim,and
I’mnotsureI’llbeabletokeepitin.

I’mwearingadresshegavemeasagift.I’veturneddownsomanyofhisgiftsI’velostcount,but

he’s persistent, and I don’t want to be rude. It makes me feel good that he wants to give me things so
badly,butIcouldn’tlivewithmyselfifIblindlyaccepteditall.Ihaveenoughtroublenotfeelinglikea
prostitutebyworkingatClubCrave.ThelastthingIneedistostartgivingmyselfreasonstothinkLogan
isbuyingme.I’mhavingenoughtroublesortingthroughmyfeelingswithoutthataddedburden.

The dress has a single, crossover strap. It hugs me in just the right places and does some very

flattering things for my figure. I have my hair done up as much as I could manage without much time. I
barelyhadthetimetothrowsomeblanketsoutformymomtosleeponthecouchbeforeIhadtothrowthe
dressonandgetreadyfortonight.Myheadstillfeelslikeit’sringingfromallthathashappened,andI’m
alreadyfightingtheurgetokeepitfromLogan.

“Youlookstunning,”hesays,slidinghisarmcomfortablyaroundmywaistandleadingmethroughthe

entranceoftherestaurant.AprimmaninasuitnodsatLoganlikeherecognizeshimandleadsuspastthe
lineofwaitingpatronstoatablenearthehugewindowsoverlookingthelake.

“Thankyou,”Isay.
Abandplayssoft,classicmusiconastagesetofftoonesideoftherestaurant.There’saquiethumof

conversation,clinkingsilverware,andmuffledlaughter.Theentirerestaurantisfull,buttheclienteleare
therefinedtype,andapparentlythatmeanstheyaren’tasloud.

Loganpullsmychairoutandbrushesanydustthatmightbeonthecushionbeforeprotectivelyholding

myarmasItakeaseat.Ilikethathetakescareofmethewayhedoes.It’sasifheimaginesanypossible
harmthatcouldcometomeanddoeswhateverhecantopreventit.

Unlesshe’stheonewithapaddleinhishand.
“What’sthatlookfor?”heasks,sittingdownandsettingthenapkininhislap.
Iclearmythroat.“It’snothing.”
Heeyesmeskeptically,butthewaiterarrivesandgoesoverthewinelist,givingmetimetogathermy

thoughts.PlanningtohidesomethingfromLoganandactuallydoingitaretwoentirelydifferentconcepts,
andIalreadyfeellikeImightbreakoutinacoldsweatsoon,asifheknowsI’mholdingsomethingback
andwon’trestuntilheknows.

LoganordersusabottleofsomethingIcan’tpronounceandlooksatmeoverthecandleburninginthe

centerofourtable.“Relax.Please,”hesays.

Ibreatheout.“I’mrelaxed.”
Hesmirks,standinginthemiddleofthecrowdedrestaurantandmovingbehindme.Heputshishands

onmyshouldersandstartsmassagingme.MycheeksburnredwhenInoticeafewheadsturningathis
showofimpropriety,butitfeelssogood.It’snotjustthemassage,it’shisconstantdesiretoclaimmeas
his.Nomatterwho’swatchingorhowinappropriateitis,Loganneverseemstocare.Allthatmattersto
him is keeping me happy and letting everyone know I’m taken. So why couldn’t I have just kept
pretendingtomakehimhappy?WhydidIhavetobesofuckingselfish?

“See?You’realreadyahellofalotlooser.”
“That’s not what you said last weekend,” I say. A split second later I clap my hand to my mouth,

shockedatmyowndirtiness.

Logan laughs before leaning close to my ear. “Your shoulders are loose. Your pussy is tight as a

fuckingglove.Andit’sallmine,Kitten.”

Myskinprickleswithexcitementandmycoreclenchesatthesoundofhisgruffvoiceinmyear.God.

Nomanhaseverbeenabletotriggermysexdrivesoeffortlessly.Itmakesmeevenmorefrustratedto

thinkhowquicklythatdrivefadesifI’mnotforcedtoplacemytrustinhim.IfI’mnotdominated.

ThewaiterapproacheswithourbottleofwineandgivesLoganacurious,almostscaredglance,asif

he’snotsureifheshouldapproach.Loganpullshishandsfrommyshouldersandstepsbacktowardhis
seat,gesturingforthewaitertocome.

Weeyeeachotheroverthetableasourwineispoured.Thewaterretreatssoundlessly,leavingthe

bottle.

Logansipshiswine.“Weneedtobeopenwitheachotherfromnowon,Emmaline.Nomoresecrets.”
Inodmyagreement,hopinghecan’tseethestraininmyforcedsmile.“Yes.Iagree.”
Somethingisbrewinginthatbeautifulheadofhis,andI’mafraidIknowwhatitis.He’sgoingtocall

me out. I know I should just tell him. He’s right. If I had just been honest with him from the beginning,
maybethingswouldn’thavebecomesocomplicated.“Isaw--”

“I’llstart,” says Logan.Our words comeout at the exactsame moment. Henarrows his eyes. “You

saw?”

Ibitemylip.“Yousaidyou’dstart.”
Hechuckles.“Fairenough.Butyou’renotoffthehook.Iwantyoutobeopenwithmesoit’sonlyfair

thatI’mopenwithyou,too.LikeIsaid,nomoresecrets.”

“Nomoresecrets,”Iecho.
Helooksuncharacteristicallytenseforamoment,runninghisindexfingeralongtheedgeofthetable

cloth,smoothingawrinkleinthefabric.“ThenightwemetatClubCravewasmyfirstnightbackonthe
BDSMsceneinyears.Ihadanastybreakupwithmyex-wifeandshe…madeitdifficultformetoenjoy
myoldlifestyle.”

I feel a stab of jealousy at the mention of his ex-wife. I know about her, but it’s only from cyber-

stalkingLoganshortlyaftermeetinghim.Lana.Aprofessionalex-wifewholivesoffherabilitytoextort
moneyfromLogan.Still,hearinghimtalkabouthermakesitseemmorereal.

Hecontinues.“Sheliedaboutthenatureofourrelationship--publically.Ittookalongtimetorepair

thedamagethatdidtomyimage,mycompany,andtobefrank,mysexlife.Iwantedtoleaveitallbehind.
AndIdid,foralongtime.ButIgottiredoflettingwhatshedidruleme,soIcameback.AndIfound
you.”

Iblushatthesincerityhepoursintohislastsentence.Hemakesitsoundlikeaprofessionoflove,and

myheartispoundinginmychest.“Isitalwayslikethis?”Iask.“Imean,beforeyoumetyourwife,when
youwerewithothersubmissives.Wasitlikethis?”

Heactuallylaughs,shakinghishead.“Notevenclose.WithothergirlsIneededtheroleplaytogetoff.

Withyou,it’s--”hestopsabruptly,clearinghisthroat.Thesilencethatstretchesgivesmeplentyoftimeto
realizewhatmadehimstoptalking.

He was about to say he doesn’t need the roleplay to get off when he’s with me. But I still do. He

doesn’twanttothrowitinmyface,butthereitis.

Hedoesn’tneedthebellsandwhistles.SowhydoIneedthem?He’sgorgeous,caring,andhasjust

the right amount of edge to keep me interested. He cares for me. He really cares. He has all the right
qualities,andstill…Iwanttoburymyfaceinmyhandsandscream.Ithoughtmyworrieswerebehind
mewhenhetookmeintoaprivateroomthatfirstnight.Ithoughtitwouldbesimplefromthenon.Ieven
let myself believe I was having a sort of sexual awakening that might make it easier for me to enjoy
vanillasex.

“I’m trying,” I say. “I want to try. I was thinking maybe we could just, well…” I look around self-

consciously at the couples sitting only a few feet from us and lower my voice. I was going to say we
could take it slower or take a break, like Scarlett suggested. But saying it out loud feels wrong. Can I
reallytakesomethingsosensuallyintimateandputanartificiallimitonit?“Howeveryouwanttodoit.
I’lldowhateveryouwant,howeveryouwant.I’llbegoodforyou.”

Hegrins.“It’snotaboutwhatIwant,Kitten.”
“You’resogoodtome,”Isay.“Iwanttomakeyouhappy.”
“Thefeelingismutual,”hesays,grinning.
Ilookdown,smilingandrubbingatasmallwaterspotonthebaseofmywineglass.
“Youhaven’ttriedthewine,”hesays.
IrealizehowrudeImustlookwhenIimaginethepriceofthewine.“I’msorry,”Isayquickly,picking

itup.“Ijustgotcaughtup.”

Hejustbiteshislip,watchingasItilttheglassbackandletthesmoothredwashovermylips.It’s

fruity,light,andairywithaslightlybitteraftertaste.It’smorecomplexthanthecheapwinesI’musedto,
butIraisemyeyebrowsappreciatively.“Thisisreallygood.”

“I’mgladyoulikeit,”hesays.“Now.It’syourturn.Youwereabouttotellmesomething.”
“Right,”Isay,swallowingalittletoobigofasiptobuymyselftime.“IwasgoingtotellyouIsaw

someone.Iwasleavingworkandhewas…”ItrailoffatthelookonLogan’sface.Allthecompassion
and kindness has faded and there’s only iron in his features. His eyes are narrowed and as piercing as
daggers.Isuddenlyregretmydecisiontotellhim.He’snotjustgoingtoconfrontRonnie,he’sgoingto
killhim.

“And?”heasks,voicesharp.
“AnditwasRonnie.Mymom’sboyfriend.”MyvoicesoundsasquietasawhisperandIpractically

cringewhileIwaitforhimtoprocesswhatI’vesaid.

“Whatdidhewant?Didhetouchyou?Ifhefucking-”
“No.Logan,”Isay,tryingtogethimtolowerhisvoicebecausepeoplearestartingtolookatus.“He

didn’t touch me. I mean, he was reaching for me, but I screamed and these guys came out. God. This
soundswayworsethanitwas.”

Logan’sjawflexes.“Iwarnedhim.Ifuckingwarnedhim.”
“Please, Logan. I didn’t want to tell you because I was worried you would do something stupid.” I

winceatmychoiceofwords.

Logan’seyesburnintome.“Stupid?Youthinkit’sstupidtoprotectyou?”
“No.That’snotwhatImeant.”
Hisbringshisfistdownonthetable,makingoursilverwareclatter.“Itdoesn’tmatter.I’mgoingto

makethemessageloudandfuckingcleartothisasshole.You’remine.He’sgoingtolearnwhyheshould
stayaway.”

Ilowermyeyes.There’snoarguingwithLogan.Theforceofhiswillaloneismind-numbing.When

heputshisfootdown,itmightaswellbeetchedinsteel.Ijustcan’tstandtheideaofhimdoingsomething
crazy. What if he actually kills Ronnie? I realize with a sinking dread that I’m going to have to warn
Ronnie. I may hate him and what he has done to my mom and now to me, but I don’t want to see him
killed.Morethanthat,Idon’twanttoseeLoganruinhislifeandcareeroverthisbygettingsenttoprison.

LOGAN

onnieBurkhart.Forty-eight,unemployed,formerhighschoolfootballstar.Allarounddeadbeatwitha

historyofdomesticabuse,evenbeforehestartedseeingEmmaline’smom.Mypersonalinvestigatorsent
theinfooverlastnightviaemail.IcalledhimassoonasIdroppedEmmalineoff.

ThethoughtofRonnietryingsomethingwithhermakesmeclenchmyfistsandwanttohitsomething.I

don’tknowwhathe’safter,whetherhe’sapervertorhe’stryingtoextortmoneyoutofher.Whateveritis,
it’sgoingtofuckingend,fast.AssoonasIfindhim,he’sgoingtogetarealhardlesson.

Fornow,Ihavetowait.Ihiredtwoadditionalpersonalinvestigatorstostartamanhuntforhim.They

alreadycheckedthetraileranddidn’tfindhim.He’sprobablypassedoutdrunkinaguttersomewhere,
buttheywillfindhim.AllIcandoismovethroughmyFridayasnormallyaspossible.Ialreadytried
calling Emmaline to get her to spend the day in my office where I could keep an eye on her, but she
refused.Shehadameetingwithapotentialinvestorforhercompany,andIknowhowimportantthatisto
heratthisstageinherbusiness.

Ihiredanoff-dutycoptotailhertodayandkeepaneyeout,sosheshouldbesafe,butIwouldrather

be there myself. Just the thought of anything happening to her… Fuck. I don’t know what I would do.
Whateveritwas,itwouldprobablyendwithmeinprisonforaverylongtime.

WhenIgettomyfloor,I’mgreetedbyLacey,who’sflankedbyDeara,myChiefFinancialOfficer.I

frownatthetwoofthem.“What’sgoingon?”

Laceyclearsherthroatnervously.“Dearawantsmetoshowyouthisemail.Youwereoutoftheoffice

lastnightsoIpasseditontoherfirst.Ihopethat’sokay.Itjustseemedreally…well...“

“Youshouldseeforyourself,Mr.Steel,”saysDeara.
Idon’tlikehowthissounds.Notabit.IfollowthetwoofthemtoLacey’scomputer.Sheclickstoher

emailandpullsaforwardedmessagefromthetechguys.“I’mfriendswithArniefromIT,andhesaidhe
wasdoingsomeroutinestuffthatrequiredtakingcontrolofworkstationsthroughoutthebuilding.Hetook
over Dean’s computer and didn’t realize it was in use. He watched Dean write this email and even
confirmeditwashimbycheckingthesecuritycameras.HedugitoutofthearchivesandsentittomesoI
couldshowyou.”

Ileanforward,readingtheemail.
Mr.Nakasuki,
He is being more resilient than we anticipated, but I am working tirelessly. I anticipate the

company will slip from his grip within the month. At that point, I am still committed to following
throughwiththeplanaswediscussed.IjustneedmoretimethanIoriginallyanticipated.Ihopethis
willnotimpactyourdecisiontoretainmeasCEOafterMr.Steelisremoved.

-DeanCalloway

IrealizeI’msqueezingtheshitoutoftheheadrestonLacey’schairwhenIfinishreading.Istraighten.

BothLaceyandDearaareeyeingmeexpectantly,waiting.

“Whereishe?”
“That’s the other problem,” says Deara. “When the tech guy dug up the email, it alerted Dean

somehow.Heknowsyouhavetheemail.Hisworklaptophasgoneoffthenetwork,butit’spossiblethat
hehasbackedupallthesensitiveinformationonthecomputeralready.”

“Client’spaymentinformation,addresses…shit,”Isay.“Ifheleakedthat,itcouldbethelaststraw.

Ourreputationwouldbeshot,andI’dhavenochanceofgettinganynewinvestors,evensmallones.He
couldforcemetoshoulderthefinancialloadonmypersonalfundsorfileforbankruptcyandgiveupthe
business.OnceIwasoutofthepicture,hisalliescouldfunnelmoneybackintothebusinessandconvince
thepublicIwastheproblem.”

“What are you going to do, sir?” asks Lacey. I see genuine concern in her eyes and even while I’m

fuming over Dean’s betrayal, I have to give her credit where it’s due. After I made it clear I wasn’t
interested,sheputherheaddownandstartedfocusingondoingherjobwell.

“Whateverittakes,”Isay,turningtoleavetheoffice.
Ihavenearlytappedthecity’squantityofprivateinvestigatorsbynow,butImanagetogetanotherPI

tohelpmefindDean.

It’sonlywhenI’mbackinmycarthatthegravityofhisbetrayalfinallyhitsme.Oneofthelastfucking

peopleItrusted.Hewaswithmethroughallthebullshitofshiftingfromapubliclysharedcompanyto
private,throughalltheliesandbackstabbingthattookplaceaseveryonetooktheirshotatunseatingme
andtakingthehelmofmycompany.Hewastherethroughitallandnevershowedanysignofgreedto
takewhatIhad.Iguesshewasjustplayingmeforafooloverthelongterm.HewaswaitinguntilIletmy
guarddownandhethoughthecouldmakeacleansweepandgetmeoutofthepicture.

Fuckingweasel.
I should have seen it coming. All the times he slipped out of meetings to take calls, or the way he

started to act like he was more on my level lately, pushing the boundaries of professionalism. He was
alreadycountingmeout.Itexplainsalltheminorchangesinhisbehavior.I’vebeentoopreoccupiedto
noticeorcareabout.IfIhadjusthadmyheadinthegamelikeIusedto,Iwould’vespottedhisbullshit
fromamileawayandshutitdownbeforeitgotthisfar.

Idon’tdwelloncouldhavebeens.Theshithappened,andnowallthereistodoisfixit.Idon’tknow

exactlywhatI’lldoyet,butfirstthing’sfirst.Deanisgoingtoanswertome.Tomyfuckingface.

SPEND

the rest of my Friday keeping an eye on the phone. I get a few texts every hour updating me on

Emmaline and on the lack of progress in finding Dean or Ronnie. What a fucking shitstorm. With the
informationDeanhasathisfingertips,hereallycouldbringdownmybusiness.Hecouldtakeeverything
I’vebuiltandstripitawayfromme.Ijustcan’tdecideifI’dratherwatchitburnthangiveittohim.

LastIlooked,Ihaveoverfivethousandemployees.CouldIreallysabotageallthosejobsjustformy

ownpride?Maybe…Inevermadeanyclaimsaboutbeingagoodman.Notonce.I’veonlyeverbeenone
thing and I’ve never apologized for it. I’m a winner. I succeed. I strive and struggle and ultimately get
whatIsetmyeyeson.Thisisdifferent.Iwouldbestrivingtodestroyinsteadofcreate.

I’llhavetothinkonit,butIknowIdon’thavelong.Maybeanotherideawillcometome,something

thatdoesn’tinvolvedestroyingthewholecompany.

ThetruthismymindonlywantstostayfocusedonEmmaline.Nomatterhowmuchmycompanyand

personallifeisinperil,shekeepsreturningtothefrontofmythoughts.Iwanttomakeherbetter.Ihavean
idea of a way I can start, but the shit with Ronnie and now Dean is making that more difficult. Fuck it

though. I have the perfect idea, and I’m not going to wait any longer. My small army of private
investigatorscancallmeiftheyfindsomething.Emmalineshouldbethroughwithhermeetingsoon,and
I’vegotthesurpriseofalifetimeforher.

“T

EMMALINE

hankyousomuchforyourtime,”Isay,nudgingScarletttogethertostandup.We’rebothcarrying
armfulsofsamplesthatneitherinvestorbotheredtolookat.

Thesternwomaninapantsuitandherpartner,abaldingmanwithaperpetualboredlookonhisface

nodpolitely.

“Youhavemycard,soyouknowwheretoreachme!”Isayalittletoocheerily.
Thewomanforcesasmilethatdoesn’ttouchhereyes.“Idohaveyourcard.”
“Right.Thanksagain,”Isay.
Scarlett follows me outside the Kolcom building. I expected the investors to meet us in some airy

officeupstairs,buttheyjustcamedowntospeakwithusinthelobby,liketheydidn’twanttoevenletus
upstairs.Iturnaroundonthesidewalkandlookbacktothehugebuilding,sighing.

“Theydidn’tseemimpressed,didthey?”Iask.
Scarlettsqueezesmyshoulder.“Therewillbemoreinvestors.Thiswasjustthestart.Screw‘em.”
“Youthinkthey’dinvestinusifIdid?”Iask,grinning.
Scarlett chokes out a laugh, looking at me with such a surprised bulge of her eyes that I laugh too.

“Damn,girl.Workingatthatclubhasreallyuppedyourdirtyjokegame.I’mimpressed.”

Inoticeablackcarwithsilvertrimmoveslowlyfromaparkingspaceonthesideoftheroadandroll

toastopinfrontofus.ThedooropensandLoganSteelstepsout.Helookssosexyashepullsoffhis
sunglassesandbuttonshissuitthatit’salmostlaughable.Awomanbumpsintoaman’sbackbecauseshe
wasstaringsohardathim.Hewalkstowardme,everymovementaseduction.Apromise.

Scarletttensesbesideme.Shetriestosoundcasual,buthervoicecomesoutalittlestrangled.“Mr.

FuckingSteel.Wow.”

“Emmaline,”hesays.“Ineedyoutocomewithme.”
Isteptowardhim,lettinghimslidehisstrongarmaroundmybackandleadmetowardhiscar.Igive

aquickapologeticwincetoScarlettovermyshoulder.WehadplansforcoffeeandI’mtotallyblowing
heroff,butshereassuresmewithawinkandasmileandthenanincrediblycrudethrustofherhips.I
lovethatwoman.

I’macutelyawareofthewayeverywomanwithinahundredyardsiswatchingmeenviouslyasLogan

guidesmearoundthefrontofhiscarandopensthepassengerdoorforme,helpingmeinside.Hedoesn’t
noticeasingleoneofthem.Hiseyesareonme,protectivelyguidingme,asifeverycrackinthepavement
couldcatchmeoffguardandsendmetoppling,buttheonlythingindangerofmakingmelosemyfooting
ishim.

I wait while he walks back around the front of the car and slips into the driver seat. He opens the

centerconsoleandpullsoutablackpieceofsilk.“Doyoutrustme?”heasks.

Ilookatthesilkandbacktohisdarkgaze.Somethinglingersinthoseeyes.Apromise.Whetherit’sa

promise of pain, pleasure, or something in between, I have no way of knowing. Do I trust him? He’s
asked me before in different ways and I’ve always spat out the answer I knew he wanted to hear. I’ve
fantasizedabouttrustinghimandletmyselfbelieveIdid,foraslongasIneededtogetoff.Buttrust?DoI
reallytrusthim?CanItrusthim?

“Idon’tknow,”Isay.
Tomysurprise,hesmirks.“We’regoingtofixthat.Putthison.”
Itakethesilkfromhimandcovermyeyes,tyingitbehindmyhead.Iswallowastheblacknesstakes

over.It’sonlywhenthecarstartsmovingandafewmomentshavepassedthatIrealizehowdistractingit
istolookathim.I’veneverreallyjustbeenaroundLoganwithoutbeingnearlyblindedbyhowsexyhe
is.It’snice.IstarttohearsoundsIwouldn’thavenoticedbefore.Thedeep,smoothsoundofhisbreaths.
The creak of the leather steering wheel beneath his strong hands. The rubbery clicks and thuds of the
gearshift.Eventheslightrustleofhisslacksagainsttheseatashemoveshislegtousethebrakes.

Trust.
EventhoughIdidn’tfullyrealizeitatfirst,that’swhatthishasalwaysbeenabout.Ipushedhimaway

attimesbecauseIfeltlikelettinghimanycloserwouldforcemetotrusthim,andIknewhewouldsee
thatIcouldn’tdoityet,notcompletely.Istilldon’tknowifIcanbringmyselftodoitinarealway.The
BDSM was a way for me to try trusting him in a safe environment, almost like a game. I was able to
fantasizeaboutitandthereasonIkepthavingtopushthingsfartherwasbecauseIhadtokeeppushingthe
boundariesofthegame.Whenmytrustdidn’tfeelreal,Icouldn’tgetoff.Itwasthatsimple.

Logandoesn’tspeakagainuntilIheargravelgrindingunderthewheelsofthecarandhecomestoa

stop.“Staythere,”hesays,shiftingthecarintowhatIassumeispark.Hisdooropensandhisfeetcrunch
acrossthegravel,gettingcloser.

Mydooropensandstronghandsgripmeunderthearm,guidingmeupandoutofthecar.Wecouldn’t

havegonetoofar,becauseitfeltlikeweonlydrovethirtyminutes,butdependingonthedirectionhetook
us,thatcouldhaveledustoquitethevarietyofplaces.Theairfeelsopenandwide,andeventhoughI
can’tsee,Icanfeelwearesomewhereremoteandnatural.

“Wherearewe?”
“You’llseesoon.Takeonesteptoyourrightandthenfourstepsforward.”
Ipause,feelingalurchinmystomach.HeexpectsmetojustwalkwherehetellsmetowhenIcan’t

seeanything?WhatifI’mstandingontheedgeofaclifforsomething?IcouldfalltomydeathandI’d
neverseeitcoming.Literally.

“Youhavetotrustme,”hesays.
“One to my… right?” I ask, taking my foot and extending it, careful to keep my balance. I test the

groundbeforeshiftingmyweightandtakingthefirststep.Idothesameforthenextstep.“Thisway?”I
ask.

“Alittlemoretotheright.Foursteps.Yes.Good.”
My heart is pounding. I don’t know how far he wants to take this, but I feel emotionally exhausted

already.It’saconstantbattlenottoriptheblindfoldoff.Itfeelslikebeingconfined,likeI’minatight
spacewithoutanyroomtostretchoutandeverysecondisintensifyingthepanicsettlinginthebackofmy
mind.

“Nowjustwalkforward.Therewillbeaslightincline,butit’snottoosteep.”
Isuckinabreath,prayingforsomemysticalinjectionofbraverytogetmethroughthis.ForallIknow

I’m on completely level ground with no danger at all, but I don’t know, and the uncertainty has me
imagining the worst. I do as he says, still slowly, treating every step like it could be a step over an
endlesschasm.

EachtimeIreachtheendofoneofhisorders,Ithinkitmustsurelybethelast.Andifit’snot,Ikeep

wonderinghowIcanhandleanymoreofthiswithoutlosingmymind.ButIdo,stepafterstep,orderafter
order,andIdon’tcomplain.Soon,I’msteppingmoresurely,puttingmyfeetforwardwithouttestingfirst,
trusting his guidance to take me on the safe path. I don’t charge ahead blindly though. I hang on to his
everyword,learningtousehisvoiceasmysight.Learningtotrustit.

“Nowtakeoffyourblouse,”hesays.
This command gives me pause. After close to ten minutes of learning to follow his every order

withouthesitation,Ican’tdoitrightaway.

“You’rehesitating,”hesays,“becauseyouhavenoideawhereyouarerightnow.Forallyouknow,I

justwalkedyouinfullviewofapublicplace.Dozensofpeoplecouldbestaringatyourightnow.But
you’regoingtotakeoffyourblouseanyway,becauseyoutrustme.”

Myhandsinchtowardthebottomofmyblouse,whichIslowlypullovermyhead,feelingthetruthof

hiswordsechothroughme.IwouldbemortifiedifIreallywassomewherepublic,buttheuncertaintyis
turningmeon.Theneedtotrusthim.

“Bra.Off,”hesays.
Idoashesays,feelingmynipplestightenandgrowhardagainsttheslightchillybreeze.
“Pantsandpanties.”
Islidebothdownobediently.
“Shoes.”
Ikickmyshoesoff,consciousofthefactthatIcouldbemooningpeopleasIbenddowntopulloffmy

sockstoo.

“Good.That’smygoodlittleKitten.”
He moves behind me, hands pressing hard into my hips and sliding down to my thighs. His thumbs

splayopen,tracingtheedgesofmymoundandspreadingtheelectricsensationofhistouchallovermy
body. He moves his hand over my already wet slit and begins to work me, making my knees instantly
weak.Tomysurprise,it’sworking.I’mnotintheslightestbitofpain,butmybodyisrespondingtoevery
single movement of his skillful fingers. It’s not long before I’m shaking, having to squeeze his wrist to
keepfromfallingtomykneeswithpleasure.

“Notyet,”hesays.“You’recummingonmycockthistime.”
His words send a fresh pulse of excitement through me. I wait, completely deprived of my sight,

feeling as though all my remaining senses are on full alert. I hear the rattle of his belt buckle and his
zipperdraggingdown.Ihearhimdroppingclothestotheground.

“Onyourhandsandknees,now,”hecommands.
Iobey,gettinginpositionandwaiting,stillconsciousthatIhavenoideawhereIamorwhocouldbe

watching.I’veputsomuchtrustintohim.Thistimeitfeelsreal.Itisn’taboutpainorsubmission.Heis
showingmethatIcantrusthimcompletelyandtotallywithmylife.He’sstillshowingmethatIcantrust
him. When the head of his cock finds my entrance though, all thoughts of why and how fade into
backgroundnoise.

There’sonlytheperfectfullnessofhiminsidemeandtheslapofhishipsagainstme.Mykneesdig

intothedirtandIsqueezehandfulsofgrasstightly,lettingmyheadfallsomycheekpressesintothechilly
ground.

I’mgettingcloserandclosertoclimax.Itbuildswitheveryslapofhisskinagainstmine,everyplunge

of his length into my wetness. And then without warning, he rips the blindfold from my head. I’m
overcome by the sudden brightness of it all. The sun, the mountains stretched ahead of me, the sheer
emptiness.IseethethintrailwemusthavecomeupandrealizeIreallycouldhavebeenhurtifIveered
toofaroffthepath,butheledmeherewithoutincident.

I also see that absolutely nobody is watching. It all comes as such a shock that I feel the building

pressureofmyorgasmfalter.Itwavers,suspended,readytoburst,butjustoutofreach.Asifheknows

exactlywhatIneed,Loganleansincloseuntilthestubbleofhisfacebrushesagainstmycheek.“Youcan
trustme,Emmaline.”

It’sthefirsttimehehasusedmynamewhilewe’rehavingsex,andthesoundofitthreadsintome,

doingsomethingstrangetomyemotions,somethingwarmandfullandlovely.

“You can trust me,” he repeats, moving himself inside me still, slowly now. Tenderly. “There’s

nothinginthisworldIwouldn’tdoforyou,Kitten.Iwouldsacrificeeverything.Iwoulddoanything.Do
youbelievethat?”

“Yes,”Isay,lettingthenoteofsurpriseIfeelatmyanswerslipout.Ibelievehim.“Ibelieveyou,”I

gasp.

“Thentrustme.Givemewhatyou’vebeenholdingbackandIpromiseyouIwillneverabuseit.”
Istareintotheblindinglybeautifulsightaheadofme,wrappedinthismoment,intheseemotions,and

stillpainfullyawareoftheorgasmthreateningtoexplodewithinmeorslipaway,onceandforall.

“Itrustyou,”Isay.Asifthewordswereahiddenkey,myclimaxtearsthroughme,breakingfreewith

theforceofatsunami,turningmymusclestojelly.

Logangroanswithme,hiscockpulsinginsidemeandfillingmetothebrimwithhishotcum.
“Iloveyou,”hesays,voiceraspyandheavy.
Foronce,Idon’tthink.Idon’thesitate.Idon’tsecondguessmyself.Ijustspeak,andthewordscome

straightfrommyheart.StraightfromtheplaceoftrustIcanalreadyfeelswellinginsideme.“Iloveyou,
too.”

LOGAN

’mattheoffice,wishingIcouldrelax.Icouldn’thavehopedforthingswithEmmalinetogoanybetter.

ButIcan’tenjoyherthewayIwantuntilIfindawaytoputtheshitwithRonnieandDeantorest.I’m
hopingRonnie’sbullshitwillendthemomentIgetmyhandsonhim.Idon’timagineitwillbehardtofind
somechargestorunagainsthimandgethimlockedupforawhile.Deanontheotherhand,thatismore
complicated.

I’vebeenlockedawayinmyofficeallnight.IdroppedEmmalineoffatherplace,whereIlearnedher

mom is hiding out while Ronnie is still at large. After that, I came straight here to figure out how I’m
goingtodealwithDean,andIhavewhatIthinkistheperfectidea.

There’sasoftknockatthedoor.Ijogoverandunlockit,lettinginasheepishman.He’swearinga

grayt-shirtandpajamabottoms.Hisshouldersarebentandnarrowfromtoomanyyearshunchedovertax
documentsandcomputerscreens.Youwouldn’tknowitfromlookingatLarry,buthe’sthebesttaxguyin
thecity.

“Thanksforcoming,Larry.”
“Sure,”saysLarry,removinghisglassestorubthesleepinessfromhiseyes.“Anytimeyouneedme.

Literally,Iguess.”

Imotionforhimtositacrossfrommydesk.Imovetoleanonmydesk,facinghimandsplayingmy

handsonthepolishedwood.“Whatwetalkaboutherestaysinthisoffice.Doyouunderstand?Youwill
betheonlypersonbesidesmyselfwhoknows,soifIhearanyofthiscirculating,I’llknowexactlywhere
itcamefrom.”IfixhimwiththehardestlookIcan,makingsureheknowsI’mserious.Idon’tlikehaving
tostrongarmLarry,butit’simportantheobeys.

“Y-yes.Icankeepasecret.”
Isizehimup,lettingthemomenthangbetweenus.“Good,”Isayfinally.“Ibelieveyou.”Ispenda

fewminutescatchinghimuponeverythingIknowaboutDeanandwhathecoulddotobringthecompany
down.

LarrylickshislipswhenI’vefinished.“I’msorrytohearit,Mr.Steele,butIdon’tseehowIfitinto

allofthis?”

“You’regoingtohelpmebringDeandown.Hethinkshehaseverythingthereisonthecompany,but

he’smissingonecriticalfile.Ihavethreeforeignbankaccounts.Aportionofsalesarediscreetlymoved
tothoseaccounts.Ipaytaxesonthosefunds,butasmallerpercentage.”

Larry’seyessearchthefloorandIseethegearschurning.He’salreadyfiguringoutwhereI’mgoing

withthis.“Youwanttomakesurehedoesn’tknowaboutthoseaccountswhenhetakesovercontrolofthe
company.IfsomeonetippedtheIRSaboutit,hecouldfaceseriouschargesfortaxevasion.Incarceration
israre,especiallyinthiscase.Itwouldbehardtoprovehewillfullyavoidingfilingwhentherewasn’t

cleardocumentationabouttheaccounts.”

“Yeah,”Isay.“Ifiguredasmuch.That’sjustthefirstnailinthecoffin.”
Asifoncue,there’sanotherknockatmydoor.IletinHenry,wholookstired,buttookthetimetoput

onapoloandsomeslacks.Henodsseriouslytome.“Mr.Steel.”

“Comein,Henry.”
LarrygivesHenryacuriouslook.
IdismissLarryandgiveHenrythesamewarningIgaveLarry.
“Ineedyoutodoaverybigfavorthat’sofquestionablelegality.”
Henryhasalwaysbeenambitious,andasIhoped,heagreeswithoutpause.“Whateveryouneed,Mr.

Steel.”

“WhenDeantakesoverthecompany,he’sgoingtomakeitpublicagain.AllIneedyoutodoismake

sure Dean has this information.” I hand Henry a USB drive. “It has sensitive information about the
companydetailingthedatessomeofourdealswillclose.Whenwe’republiclytraded,theseeventswill
allcausethestocktofluctuate.Itdoesn’tmatterifDeaneverlooksatthese,it’sjustimportantthatit’son
hiscomputer.ItalsohassomefakeemailssavedtoanaliasI’vecreated.”

“You’regoingtomakeitlooklikeheparticipatedininsidertrading?”
“Yes,”Isay.
“Hecouldgotoprisonforthis.”
“I’maware,”Isay.“CanIcountonyou?”
HenryeyestheUSBandsighs.“Yes,sir.I’llmakesurehehasthis.”
“Good,”Isay,standingandclappinghimontheshoulder.“Gogetsomerest.Sorrytowakeyou.”
Iwatchoutthewindowsofmyoffice,scanningthecitybelowme.IfIgothroughwiththisplan,I’ll

bewillfullytakingmyselfoutofthetowerthatlooksdownonallofit.I’llbeputtingmyselfbackonthe
groundlevel,positioningmyselftoworkbackuptothetop.Insteadofscaringmeormakingmeangry,the
thoughtisrejuvenating.Itwillbeafreshstart.InevercaredasmuchaboutthedestinationasIcaredabout
thejourneyanyway.Andthistime,IcanstartthejourneywithEmmalineatmyside.

Ismile,noddingslowly.Afreshfuckingstart.

EMMALINE

ymomhasalreadybeenstayingwithmefortwodays.TheplanwastogetheraplaceassoonasI

could,butIjusthaven’tgottentoityet.It’saftermidnightwhenIwakeuptogetaglassofwater.Mymind
replaysthesensationsofthepreviousday.BeingwithLogansocompletelyandsofullywasbetterthan
anythingI’veeverfelt.Idon’tthinkmydaysofBDSMarebehindmebyalongshot,butlearningIcould
bewithhimoutsideofthatwasimportant.Itmeanteverything.

The thunderstorm outside has been keeping me awake. Every time I’m about to fall asleep, a huge

crashboomsthroughthehouse,makingmyheartpound.Rainpattershardagainsttheroofandwindows,
drivensohardbythewindthatit’scominginalmostsideways.

Idon’tthinkLoganknowsIspottedtheguyhehaskeepinganeyeonme,butthesamewhitecarhas

beenparkedacrossthestreetsinceItoldhimaboutRonnie.Figuringitoutafterthatwasn’ttoohard.I’ve
madeahabitofpeekingatthecar.Seeingthemanbehindthewheelwatchinghasbecomesomethingofa
comfortforme.

Butthistime,Iseethecardoorisopenandthemanislyingonthegroundafewfeetfromthecarin

themiddleofthestreet.He’snotmoving.Mybrainfillsinthegapswithlightningspeed.

Theglassofwaterfallsfrommyhand,shatteringontheground.Shardsofglasspeltmybarefeetand

legs,followedbycoldwater.

Ronnie.He’shere.Somewhere.He’scomingforus.
Myphoneisbymybed.IrushtowardmyroomasfastasIcan.ThefirststepItakebringsmyfoot

downonathickpieceofglassandIslipbackwards,fallinghardandknockingthewindfrommylungs.

Atthesamemoment,thekitchenwindowshattersandadrunken,soakingwetRonnieclimbsthrough.

Lightning flashes behind him, illuminating the rain that sprays through the window behind him. He
clumsily uses the counter to slide down into the kitchen, boots crunching on broken glass. He holds a
splinteredwoodenbaseballbatinhishand.There’saclumpofhairwedgedbeneathoneofthesplinters.

Mystomachturnsover.Didhefuckingkilltheguyoutside?Ifhewouldkillastrangerincoldblood,

whatwouldhedotous?

“Thishasbeenalongfuckingtimecoming,bitch,”hegrowls.
Iscootback,wincingasglassdigsintomypalms.Myfootisanexplosionofheatandpain.Atrailof

slickbloodstretchesoutbehindmeasIbackawayfromhim.

Ronnie’svoiceisslurred,andIcantellfromhismovementsthat’she’sdrunk.“FirstI’llbreakyour

legssoyoucan’trun.ThenI’lltellthatboyfriendofyourshecanhaveyoubackforamilliondollars.”
Ronnielaughsdeeplyandthenpausesabruptlytocoughsomethingthickup.Hespitsonthefloor.

“Mom,”Iwhisper.Itrytoshout,butmychestfeelssotightIcan’tpushthesoundoutanylouder.It’s

likeI’minadream.Everythingfeelsstiffandfoggy.

He’ssteppingcloser.Crunch.Crunch.Thetipofthebatdragsontheground,pavingapaththroughthe

shardsofglass.Ican’ttakemyeyesofftheclumpofdarkhair.Iexpecthimtoswingassoonashecan
reachme,andatfirst,Idon’tthinkIcouldstophimifhedid.Ifeelhelpless.

It’sonlywhenhefallstohiskneesandcomescloserthattheabilitytofightrisesup.Ifhethinkshe’s

goingtoputhisfuckinghandsonme…

Myheadbumpsintothecabinet.Irunoutofroomtobackupjustasmyhandcomesdownonafist-

sizedpieceofglass.Isqueezeit,notcaringhowitdigsintomyskin.

“I’vealwayswonderedhowyouwouldtas--”
Ronnie’s eyes bulge. His hand comes up slowly as he tips to one side, mouth open and working

silently.I’mstillgrippingthepieceofglassthatIjammedintohislegwhenhefalls.Iripitfreeandscoot
awayasquicklyasIcan,gaspingforbreath.Ican’tlookawayfromthespotwherebloodgushesfrom
him,quicklyformingapoolbeneathhisleg.Idroptheglassandshakilygettoonefoot.IcryoutasIrip
thepieceofglassfromthebottomofmyfoot.

Mymomburstsintotheroom,probablydrawnbymyscream.“Ronnie!”Sheshouts.
Iwatch,feelingsickwhenIrealizemymomisprobablystillgoingtogobacktohim.Ihopedmaybe

hehadfinallypushedherbeyondherlimit,thatshewasreadytotakecontrolofherlifeagain.

Shemovestowardhim,carefullyavoidingsteppingonglasswithherbarefeet.SheleansdownandI

thinkshe’sabouttokisshim,butshepullsherhandbackandpunchesRonnieinthemouth.

“Youstaythefuckawayfrommydaughter.Andyoustaythefuckawayfromme.We’redone.”
I stare in amazement as my mom comes toward me and helps me up, leading me from the kitchen.

Once she helps settle me down on the couch, the pain of my injuries finally hits me. And it hits like a
truck.MyfootisablazeofagonyandmyhandisthrobbingwithicyhotpainfromwhereIgrippedthe
glasstostabRonnie.TostabRonnie.God.Vividimagesflashinmymindfromthelastfewminutes.

Ronniecrawlingthroughthewindowlikesomedemon,backlitbylightning.Hisfaceashekneltdown

toreachforme.Thewaythebloodoozedfromhisleg.Mymomchoosingmeoverhim.Iletmyheadfall
backagainstthecouch.“Weneedtocallsomeone,”Isayafterafewmoments.IdoubtRonnieisgoing
anywhereonhisownwiththegashinhisleg,butwecan’texactlylethimjustlaybleedinginthekitchen
bleedingoutallnight,either.

There’saloudbangandthefrontdoorswingsopen,doublingthesoundsofthestormoutside.Iturn

myheadtoseeatallfigureinasuit.

“Kitten,”saysLogansoftly.Hequicklymovesinside,kneelinginfrontofmeandgentlytouchingthe

skinaroundmycuts.Angerboilsinhisfeaturessopowerfullythatitalmostscaresme.Itwouldscareme
ifIdidn’tknowtheangerwasfromprotectivenessandhishatredofseeingmehurt.

“Thank God you’re here,” I say. I’m about to foolishly wrap my hands around him in a hug, but he

stopsmewithafirmhand.

“Don’tmove.I’mgoingtogetthesecleanedandcovered.”
“Howdidyouknowtocome?”Iask,lettingmyselfsinkbackintothecouch.
“MyPIdidn’tsendhishourlyupdate.”
“Uh,”saysmymom.“Mr.Steel?Ronnieisintheotherroomstill.”
Loganstands,turningtowardthekitchendoor.Hisfistsareclenchedathissideandhisjawflexes.He

stepsthroughthedoorandthere’salongsilence.MymomandIwait,eyeslockedinuncertainty.Idon’t
knowwhatI’mhopingfororexpecting.

Logan steps back into the living room. His features are dark. “He’s going to bleed to death soon,

unlesswecutoffsomeofthecirculationtohisthigh.Hisfemoralarteryissevered.”

Istareinconfusionforamoment,wonderingwhyLoganhasn’talreadycutoffcirculation.Irealizea

secondlaterwhathe’ssaying.He’saskingme.He’saskingifIwantRonnietodieorifIwanthimtolive.

Ilooktomymom,andtomysurprise,sheshrugs.Itrytothinkthroughthepainthrobbinginmyhands

andfeet.ItrytolookpastwhatIwantrightnow.Revenge.Justice.Pain.Iforcemyselftolookpastthat
andfocusonwhatIcanlivewith.Idon’tthinkIcouldlivewithmyselfifIknewIhadthepowertosave
hislifeandIlethimdie.

“He’llgotojail,”Isay.“That’senough.”
LoganholdsmygazeforlongenoughtotellmehewouldratherkillRonnie,buthedisappearsintothe

kitchenandIhearthesoundoffabrictearing.Maybehe’srippingakitchentowelorsomethingtotieoff
theleg.Eitherway,it’sover.We’llcallthepolice,they’lltakeRonnieaway,andI’llfinallybeableto
focusonputtingthepiecesofmylifebacktogether.ExceptIwon’tbedoingitalonethistime.

EPILOGUE

Logan

FourMonthsLater

leanagainstthefarwall,watchingEmmalinefussovertheboxesthathavebeenreadyforshipmentall

day.Shekneelsdownbrushesoffastrandoffabricthatfellononebox.

“Careful,”Isay.“Gettheboxestooperfectandourcustomerswon’tevenopenthem.”
Shesmirksruefullyatme,butdoesn’tstopmovingcarefullythroughthestackofboxesforthetenth

time. “Yeah, well… I just haven’t ever shipped products to a real store before. It was always just
individualsalesorafewpeoplewithonlinestores.Thisisabigdeal.”

Imovetoher,slidingmyhandsoverhershouldersandworkingsomeofthestiffnessfromthem.“You

havenothingtoworryabout,”Isayintoherear.“Youdeservethis.Youfuckingdeserveeverybitofit.
Youdeservetohavetheworldeatingoutofyourhand.”

She laughs. “Does that mean you would be eating out of my hand too? Because I could get used to

that.”

Igrin,squeezingheralittletighterandforcingherheadtowardme.“TheonlythingI’llbeeatingout

isthatperfectpussyofyours.”

“Ahem!”Scarletthalf-yells.
Emmalinejumpsalittle,clearlyforgettingScarlettwasstillworkingquietlyonherlaptop.Iadmitto

forgettingtoo,butsomethingabouttalkingdirtytoherinfrontofothershasalwaysbeenaturnonforme.
Theworldneedstoknowshe’smine.Letthemoverhear.

“Sorry,”saysEmmaline.“Hedidn’tmeanwhatitsoundedlikehemeant.”
Scarlettlooksup,givingEmmalineadryexpression.“Youdon’townacat,sodon’teventrytotell

me…”

Emmalinegivesup,hidingherhandsinherface.
“ImeantexactlywhatIsaid,”Isay,bitingmylip.
EmmalinegroansandScarlettlaughs.
“I think I’ll work from outside for a little while. Just uh, let me know when it’s safe to come back

inside.”

Emmaline keeps hiding her face until Scarlett leaves. She looks up finally and tries to swat at my

shoulder. I grab her wrist, locking eyes with her. “Careful, Kitten. I have you right where I want you
now.”

Imoveintoher,pushingherbackuntilIhaveherpinnedtothewallwithmybody.Shelooksupatme,

lickingherlips.“Wehavetogetthisorderready.”

“Itwasreadythesecondtimeyoucheckedit,Emmaline.It’sperfect.You’reperfect.”
She starts to breathe more heavily, blinking and looking down. “I don’t think I can have sex with

Scarlettrightoutside,ifthat’swhatyou’retryingfor.’

“Whosaidanythingaboutsex?”Iask.Iforceherlegsaroundmywaist,turningherandsettingherass

downonatable.Iworkmyfingersunderthewaistbandofherpantsandpanties.“IsaidIwouldeatthat
pussy,andIfollowthroughonmypromises.”

Iwaitjustlongenoughtoseethefaintesthintofasmiletouchherlips.Iripherpantsdownandtakea

secondtoadmireher.

“Yourpussyissofuckingsexy,”Igrowl,lipssoclosetoherthattheybrushtheskinofhermoundasI

speak.

Shewrithesagainstme.“Scarlettisrightoutside…”shesayssoftly.
“Soyoumaywanttoavoidmoaningtooloudlythistime.”
Emmaline’s glare melts away as soon as my tongue flicks out across her slit, circling and plunging

insideher.Shesqueezeshersoftthighsaroundmyhead,usingherheelstopushmyfacefartherintoher,
beggingmeformore.Igiveherwhatshewantsandmore.Shebucksagainstme,grindingherselfintomy
faceinherdesperationforfriction,formore.

Soon she’s moaning so loud Scarlett could easily hear if she’s right outside. I plunge two fingers

insideherandfingerfuckherwhileIworkherclitwithmytongue.Itputsherovertheedge.Herpussy
clamps down on my fingers and her body shakes. She lets out a strangled cry, clapping a hand to her
mouthtostiflethesound.

Istraighten,grinningasIleanforwardandmakeherkissmehardwhileshestillshakeswithorgasm.

Makinghertasteherselfhasmycockhardasarock,butIcan’tgivehereverythingshewantsallatonce.
Thatwouldruinthefun.She’llhavetowaitfortonighttogettherest.

Sheclearsherthroat,hoppingdownandslidingherpantsbackup.
IstepoutsideandseeScarlettsittingonthebenchalittlewaysdownfromtheoffice.“It’ssafenow.”
Shelooksup.“You’resure?”
Ilaugh.“Yeah.Positive.”
ScarlettandEmmalinespendthenexthourworkingonideasforthedesignoftheirnewestpieceof

clothing.I’mperfectlycontenttowatch.Thelastfourmonthshavegivenmealottothinkabout,andIfeel
likeI’mstilltryingtowrapmyheadarounditall.

Mycompanyisgone.Asexpected,Deanthreatenedtoleakthousandsofclient’spersonalinformation

ifIdidn’tstepdown.Imadeashowofputtingupafightsohewouldn’tbetoosuspicious,butultimately
handedthecompanyovertohim.Ihadenoughtimetoliquidizemyassetsandwalkawaywithmorethan
enoughmoneytobecomfortableforafewthousandlifetimes.Hetookoverthehelmofashiphedidn’t
knowwassinking.

Twomonthsago,mytrapsprangfully.DeanwasfirstslappedwithtaxevasionchargeswhentheIRS

caughtwindfrommyanonymoustip,andthentherealchargescameofinsidertrading.Lastweekhewas
sentencedtotwentyyearsinfederalprison.Thecompanyisnowpubliclyrunbyacommittee.They’ve
sinceofferedmypositionbacktome,butIdeclined.Ihaveotherplansnow.

I’m mentoring Emmaline. I’ve been teaching her everything I know about business, and she’s the

fastest learner I’ve ever seen. I haven’t given her a cent. Everything she has done for her business has
beenonherown.TwomonthsagoshewasearningenoughfromhersalestoquitworkingatClubCrave.
Nowsheonlygoeswithmeasapatronoftheclub,notanemployee.Andwemakefulluseofthefacility.

Theboxesstackedupareforseveralmajorretailers.Shemanagedtolandshelf-spaceatsomeofthe

biggest stores in the country, and is planning to upgrade her office space soon and start hiring more
employeestomeetthecontracts.I’veneverseenhersohappy.IthelpsthatRonniegotputawayforalong

timeforattemptedmurderonmyPIandaslewofothercharges.Itturnsouthisrampagethatnightdidn’t
startoutsideEmmaline’shouse.Heleftadrunkentrailofcarnageaboutfourmileslongandwascaughton
severalsecuritycameras.

IjusthaveonemoresurpriseforEmmaline,butshe’llhavetowaitalittlelongerforit.

Emmaline

OGAN

’

ARM

ispossessivelysplayedacrossmybackaswewalkinsideClothesforCrawlers.Ithasbeen

adreamofminetohavemyproductssoldinastorelikethisforsolong.I’vethoughtsomanytimesabout
whatitwouldbeliketowalkthroughabignamestoreandseemyproductshangingondisplay,watching
personafterpersonadmiremywork.Ijustneverimaginedthetall,dark,andsinfullyhandsomemanatmy
side.

I never would have imagined losing his company could revitalize him so much. Logan has been

anything but idle since. His fresh start has brought about such a wonderful change in him. While I
wouldn’thavecalledhimbroodinganddepressedbefore,therewasalwaysaslightdarknessaroundhim.
Hedoesn’tliketotalkabouthimselfmuch,butIthinkhehadreachedthetopandhadnothinglefttostrive
for.Ieventhinkhe’sgladthathewasforcedtostartover.

Thebestpartishehasbeenworkingwithmeasabusinesspartner.Hedoesn’tgivememoney,buthe

hastakenmeunderhiswingandstartedteachingmeeverythingheknowsaboutgrowingabusinessfrom
thegroundup.Andhe’sadamngoodteacher.

IwasabletoquitworkingatClubCravetwomonthsagoafterthebusinessstartedreallymovingin

fullswing.Oursexlifewasn’tmagicallyperfectafterthetimehetookmeblindfoldedupthehikingtrail,
but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed Logan’s creativity. He never seems to run out of ways to chip away at the
wall of resistance the years have built up around my sexuality. We’ve also been able to enjoy his play
roomagain,andournewfoundtrusthashelpedmetoenjoywhateverhe’sinthemoodfor,whetherit’s
lightbondageorthepaddle.

I also gave Scarlett a raise, which she was ecstatic about. Her outfits have become even cuter, and

she’sstartingtotalkaboutopeningherowndancebusinesssomeday.Ilovethatshe’slookingatherown
futureoutsideofmycompany.I’llmissherlikehellifsheleaves,butIwanthertofindherownnichetoo.
Ifgraphicdesignisn’tdoingitforher,thenIdon’twantherstuckinit.

Wequicklyfindthedisplaywithmyproducts.Monthlymilestoneonesiesfrom“Icanwalk!”to“Ican

situp!”.EachonesiefeatureswhatIhopewillsomedaybeourrecognizabletrademark:thecutecartoony
elephantScarlettdesigned.Eachonesieshowshimdoingthemilestone,whetherit’swalking,sittingup,
orcelebratinghisfirstChristmas.IfeelmyeyeswellingwithtearsasIleanintoLoganandlookatthe
display.

Logansqueezesmyshoulderandstepstowardtheclothes,pickingupalittleboy’soutfitfor“Iused

thepotty!”.

Heturnstowardmeandmakesaconfusedface.“Ididn’trealizeyouincludedgiftsinsidetheclothes.”
Iscrunchmyforehead.“What?”
Hemotionstothepocketonthefrontoftheonesie.MyheartstopswhenIseethecircularoutline.The

small,circularoutline.

“Yeah,”hesays,smirkingandfallingtooneknee.Hereachesinthepocketandpullsitout.“Lookat

this thing. You’d have to really be head over heels in fucking love with someone to give this to them.
You’dhavetowanttomarrythem.”

“Youwould…”Isay,voicebarelyawhisper.ThetearsthatthreatenedtofallwhenIsawthedisplay

arefallingnowforacompletelydifferentreason.

“Willyoumarryme,Emmaline?”asksLogan.
Idon’tnoticethesmallcrowdformingaroundus.Idon’tnoticethewaymyheartisabouttoexplode

fromoverwork.Ionlyseehim.Iseenotjustthedrop-deadgorgeousmanstaringupatme,butthepatient,
thoughtfulmanwhohasbeenwillingtoworkthroughmyproblemswithme.IseethemanwhorealizedI
didn’t need his money, who understood me so completely that he never needed to even ask. I see my
soulmate.TheonlymanIeverwanttobewith.Nowandforever.

“Ido.God.Ido,”Isay.
HeslidestheringovermyfingerandInoticeitforthefirsttime.IfIhadanybreathinmylungs,the

sightoftheringwouldtakeitaway.It’snotsobigit’sgaudy,eventhoughLogancouldaffordaringlike
that.It’selegantandinexactlythestyleIwouldhavechosenwithanalmostantiqueflairtoit.Hestands,
pullingmeinforakissandthenembracingme,justasblindasIamtotheapplaudingcrowdaroundus.

Icouldn’thopeforanythingmore,exceptmaybeababyofmyowntoweartheonesieshismommy

designed.IsmirkintoLogan’sshoulder.Hemaythinkhehascompletecontrol,butIhaveafeelingI’llbe
abletoconvincehimtotryforababy.

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