Chapter 4
Chapter Four
CASSIE
The hotel door shuts with a soft click.
Before I can turn, he tosses the bag of toys down and then he’s already on me.
We didn’t go too crazy. Just got some cuffs, a little vibe, a blindfold, restraints…maybe some clamps.
Half were his idea, half were mine.
A hand wraps around my waist, spinning me, and then—slam—my back hits the wall. A gasp explodes from my throat, but it’s swallowed instantly by his mouth crashing into mine. He’s hard and demanding, like he’s been waiting all night to devour me.
His chest presses against mine, all muscle and heat and urgency. My breasts ache from the contact, crushed beneath his weight in the best possible way. I moan into his mouth, and that only spurs him on.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, lips dragging down my jaw. “That sound…do it again.”
I don’t mean to obey. But I still do.
I moan-groan—or something like that—as he grips my hips tight, pinning me in place, and I can feel how hard he is through his jeans. And I mean—hard. My body responds like it’s been waiting for this moment for years. I roll my hips once, slow, just to see what he’ll do.
His hand flies to my jaw, tilting my head so he can look me in the eye.
“Careful,” he growls. “You keep moving like that, and I won’t make it to the bed.”
My pulse stutters.
“Then don’t,” I whisper.
His mouth curves into a sinful grin. “Ohh, you’re trouble, Darlin’.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “The kind I like.”
He leans in again, and this kiss is filthier—teeth, tongue, heat. One hand cups the back of my head while the other drags down my thigh, lifting it so he can slot his hips between mine. He grinds against me once. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I whimper.
Logan pulls back just enough to speak against my lips. “Still sure?”
My answer is immediate.
“Fuck yes.”
His hands are everywhere—gripping my hips, sliding up my ribs, cupping my face like he wants to memorize every inch. But it’s the way he touches me that undoes me—possessive, assured, like he knows exactly what I need before I do.
His lips find mine again, bruising and perfect.
And then he pulls back, just enough to murmur between kisses:
“So what…” kiss “…haven’t you done…” kiss “…that you want to try…” kiss “…with your one-night stand tonight?”
My breath stutters.
He’s still kissing me, slow and relentless, but his eyes are locked on mine. Daring me. Inviting me. Like he wants the real answer.
Something deep inside me—something I usually keep locked up—starts to stir.
I swallow hard. “You really want to know?”
He bites my lower lip. Gently. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
I exhale, shaky and embarrassed, heart pounding out a confession I’ve never said out loud.
“I’ve always wanted to be…taken.” The words are barely a whisper. “Like, no slow build. No asking nicely. Just—pushed up against something, panties ripped off, hands held down, knowing he’s stronger, but trusting him—you—to take just the right care of me.”
There’s a beat of silence.
And then his grip tightens and his eyes darken. His voice drops, rough and low, in my ear.
“Cassie.”
“Yeah?”
“You have no idea what you just started.”
Before I can blink, he spins me around, both wrists caught in one of his hands and pinned high above my head. My cheek hits the cool wall, and his body is pressed behind mine, hard and unyielding.
His other hand trails up the back of my thigh beneath my shorts. Teasing. Threatening.
“You want rough?” he growls. “You want to feel just how much I want you? You wanna be taken?”
A strangled sound escapes my throat. “Yes.”
“Because that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about since the moment I saw you tonight.”
“Yes. Please.”
“So tell me whose pussy this is tonight.”
I gasp, every nerve in my body lighting up like a live wire.
“It’s yours,” I whisper. “Just for tonight.”
He chuckles darkly. “That’s all I need.”
Then he drops to his knees.
His hands find my waistband, yanking open the button of my shorts with one swift tug. “These are cute,” he mutters, voice like gravel, as he peels them down, inch by inch, dragging the denim over my hips. “But they’re in my way.”
He helps me step out of them, then reaches for my flannel, tugging it off my arms with care that doesn’t match the hunger in his eyes. Now I’m in just a fitted tank and panties, my chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
He pauses to look at me and something carnal flickers behind his eyes.
“Perfect.”
He runs his hands up my thighs, slow, possessive, then hooks his fingers in my panties.
“These, too,” he says, roughly. “Gone.”
He slides them down, lips brushing the inside of my thigh as he goes. When his mouth finally reaches my pussy, I nearly cry out.
His tongue finds me instantly, licking slow and deep like he’s savoring the taste. His hands grip my ass, holding me open, controlling every movement.
“You’re already soaked,” he growls. “You want to come on my tongue? No rush, though. I’d love to go down on you for days. Too bad this is just a one-night stand.”
I moan loud, no shame left in me. “Yes. Mmm. Yes. Oh God. I’m so close.”
“Good girl.”
He eats me like it’s his last meal. Messy, filthy, relentless. My hands slam against the wall as I try to stay upright. But he doesn’t let up. He keeps going, keeps groaning, like he lives for this.
When my legs start to shake, he pulls back just enough to growl, “Yeah. That’s it. You taste so sweet.”
That does me in, and I whimper loud as hell, digging my fingernails into his thick head of hair, which only seems to spur him on.
When he’s made me orgasm thoroughly, he stands, turning me roughly to face the wall, his hands gliding up my inner thighs and palming my ass. His body pins me there, cock thick and hard behind his jeans, pressed against my backside.
His hand grips my jaw, tilting my head back so he can speak low in my ear.
“You want it?”
“Yes,” I pant. “Please, Logan.”
“Damn right. You’re at my mercy,” he murmurs, voice thick with promise. “Are you ready for me to take good care of you?”
“Yes,” I breathe, pulse racing. “But…hold that thought. I need to use the ladies’ room.”
He chuckles, presses a quick, searing kiss to my lips, and lets me go with a soft smack to my ass. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
When I step out a minute later, my breath catches.
He’s stripped down to just his briefs—broad chest, cut abs, the outline of his cock stretching the fabric and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
The toys we picked out are already laid out at the foot of the bed, like an offering.
His gaze rakes over me. “Top. Off.”
I reach for the hem, but he’s already crossing the room. “Let me.”
His fingers slip beneath the fabric, dragging it over my head, carefully. My breasts fall heavy, nipples already tight from anticipation and the cool air.
“Fuck,” he growls with a grin, eyes locked on my chest. “You are so damn hot.”
His hand cups one breast, thumb brushing lightly across my nipple, and I gasp.
“Now,” he says, voice dropping, “get on the bed. Lie back. Arms up.”
My knees wobble, but I obey, crawling onto the mattress and lying down, heart pounding. Logan follows, attaching the restraints one by one—soft cuffs around my wrists, then my ankles, spreading me open and locking me in.
“You’re mine tonight,” he whispers, brushing his fingers down my stomach. “You’re going to do exactly what I say.”
I suck in a shaky breath as he reaches for the blindfold.
“And once you can’t see me?” he murmurs against my ear, “every little touch, every sound, every tease…it’ll drive you wild.”
He slips the fabric over my eyes, and I see nothing but darkness.
And then his lips press warm and sure at the base of my throat.
“Let’s see how long I can keep you begging.”
The blindfold darkens everything, heightening the sensation of his mouth as it travels, slow and reverent, down my neck…across my collarbone…between my breasts.
He takes his time.
Every kiss, every flick of his tongue is maddening. He works his way over my stomach, then back up again—teasing, tasting, never in a hurry. I’m squirming, panting, held wide open and totally at his mercy.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You taste like sunshine and sin. I could do this all night.”
I whimper. “Please. I need more. I can’t wait that long.”
“Tell me,” he says, lips brushing the underside of my breast, “how sensitive are these nipples of yours?”
“Very,” I breathe.
“Good.” I can see his cocky grin in my mind’s eye.
There’s the sound of him retrieving something—then cool metal brushing against my skin.
He gives one nipple a firm tug, rolling it between his fingers until I’m moaning.
Then—click—the clamp goes on.
I cry out. Pleasure spears through me like lightning.
The second one follows, and I swear my brain short-circuits.
I tug at the restraints, arching my back, a helpless, desperate sound escaping my throat.
“You gonna come just from that?” he chuckles darkly, brushing a knuckle along my trembling inner thigh. “Damn, you really are a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”
God.
The words hit just as hard as the clamps.
I am. I’m a mess. Wet, aching, writhing.
And all he’s done is talk to me. Kiss me. Mark me with these toys.
I never knew I liked this—being owned, devoured, talked down to in just the right way. But with him?
I crave it.
“You like that?” he asks, voice low and wicked. “Being used? Being told how needy you are for me?”
I nod frantically, barely able to form words. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
His mouth is suddenly at my ear again, his palm firm between my thighs.
“Then,” he whispers, fingers ghosting closer to where I’m soaked and pulsing. “You’re in for the fucking night of your life.”
Something in my chest flips. I’m half panicked, half in wild anticipation.
His mouth trails lower, bypassing my nipples which are still pinched tight in the clamps. He blazes a path down my stomach, slow and claiming.