Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

I jerk my eyes open and try to lift and turn my head to search for his. Shit. Red is my safe word and even though Logan told me I could use it any time today, I totally wasn't going to.

"I didn't mean…Green, Sir. I'm good, Sir, really. It's just…"

My thoughts are in a complete jumble and I'm struggling to piece them together. I'm exhausted, but I really, really don't want to disappoint him.

"No. I think we're done with this scene, baby." His voice is firm, but kind. Way kinder than it's been since I got into his car. And he doesn't sound disappointed at all.

I sigh and there's a curl of relief in my belly, if I'm honest. "Yeah, okay."

He smooths my damp hair back from my sweaty face. "Let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart."

Sir has left the building and it's my Daddy here now. I snicker quietly to myself while that sentence repeats itself in my head— Sir has left the building —all serious-sounding and whatever.

Damn, I am loopy. The aftermath of an intense scene, I guess.

Logan's footsteps recede and there's the faint sound of running water in the distance. I close my eyes and just drift in the quiet peace.

He comes back and the washcloth is warm. I think he's got a basin with him or something, because it stays warm and water trickles into something in between swipes of the terrycloth over my sweaty skin. He cleans everything, loosens the straps around my forearms and legs, but pats me gently between my shoulder blades and says, "Stay still for another minute, baby."

When he comes back again, he smooths a soothing lotion over my blistered ass and thighs. Only then does he help me push up from the bench. I sway a little when I get to my feet—I've been strapped down long enough that my legs feel a little wobbly. He puts my hands on the bench to steady me while he wipes down my chest and stomach and cleans everything else.

He dabs at the thin knife cuts on my chest with a bit of antibacterial cream, then finally—finally—leads me the few steps to the bed and lets me lie down.

Now I get why whoever owns this cabin put the sex bench right at the foot of the bed instead of all the way across the room.

Before I even think to ask, Logan's unbuttoning the last few buttons of his shirt and pushing his slacks down. He kicks them away, steps out of his boxer briefs, and climbs into bed next to me.

His skin is warm, and I immediately snuggle close. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, and I rest my head on his chest. His chest hair tickles my nose and I smooth it down. I stroke my hand down his chest, over and over, and he tightens his arm around me.

"So," he says. "Tell me."

I'm supposed to tell him how I feel after we do a big scene like this. It's a little weird, having to find words after he's fucked my brains out, but he says it's important. So that he can know what he did right and what he should do differently. And so I can get clear on what I need and what I got or something like that.

I squirm a little and hide my face in his chest hair. But whatever, we've already had this embarrassing conversation when he dragged the original fantasy out of me, so I guess I can talk about whether the execution lived up to it.

"It was, um…good," I start.

He snorts and I pinch his side in retaliation. I'm working up to it, jeez.

"I know you can do better than that, baby boy."

"I'm thinking," I protest. "Maybe you should just take it as a compliment that you made me come so hard I can't string words together anymore."

He gives another snort but also tightens his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. He stays quiet for a minute so I can pull my scattered thoughts together. Though—isn't the whole point of this to quiet my constantly racing brain and get to a place where I don't have to think?

Logan lets me drift a little longer and I'm not actively thinking, but eventually, I figure out what to say.

"It was different from what I expected," I start with admittedly a bit of trepidation. He asked, though. I hasten to add, "But it turned out to be exactly what I wanted."

"How was it different from what you expected?" His voice is calm, and he doesn't sound upset or worried. His arms are still holding me close, and when I don't answer right away, he crooks a knuckle under my chin and lifts my face to his.

"Sweetheart, it's okay to tell me. You know that your Daddy will always love you."

Which is exactly what he said when I first confessed this fantasy to him. I relax a little more. "Well, it was freaking scary sometimes. Especially when you made me get in the trunk."

He smiles a little. "I did worry that might have been a step too far. You didn't use your safe word, though."

"No." I drop my eyes briefly. "I almost did. You didn't even look like my Daddy then. You looked like a stranger. A scary, mean stranger."

"And?" he prompts.

"And…" I swallow hard. There's a curl of arousal deep in my belly. I'm way too tired to go again, not to mention sore as fuck, but for a minute I really want to. "It made it hotter. Like, if you weren't you , then maybe I wasn't me, either. And if I couldn't stop you from doing whatever you wanted to me, then I could just…let go and let you."

I look back up at his face and that small smile is still there. It's more self-satisfied than comforting, though. And there's a glitter in his eyes that's reminiscent of that hot stranger. The curl of arousal in my stomach tightens.

"It was very hot," Logan agrees. "Any time you want to give in to me like that, baby, I'll take it. I don't need it all the time like that—you know I like to be sweet with my boy sometimes, too. But…"

He lifts his hand and runs his fingers through my hair. The hard-edged acquisitiveness in his expression has faded somewhat and he looks vulnerable for the first time since we started this scene. "To have you like that, under my control, at my mercy, and to know that you chose that, that you want me like that. That you willingly surrender to me and trust me, even as you let me do things you aren't sure that you want…"

He tucks my hair behind my ear, and I gaze down at him. At the fine lines around his eyes and nose. At the silver strands in his hair. He's so much older than me. And I realize that I'd spent so much time focused on what I wanted out of this scene that I'd sort of forgotten about what he might have wanted to get out of it.

I know he's had a lot of guys around my age. And maybe it's a cliché—older man trying to recapture his youth by fucking young men. But all those other guys he's had? None of them lasted longer than a night or two. And I'm pretty sure that none of them got to see what I'm seeing in him now.

"I'm yours, Daddy. And yours, Sir. All the ways you want me, I want to be for you."

His fingers tighten at the back of my neck. "I'm yours, too, baby boy. Permanently, if you want."