Becoming His Muse, Part Three (12 page)

“I’m not
scared
,” Logan sneers. “You don’t know how I feel.” His tone is defensive, frustrated, confused.

“Let me go,” I say. “You’re holding me too tight.”

“I can’t let you go.” But then suddenly he does. I lose my balance temporarily, fall against the arm of the leather chair. I perch there, rubbing my shoulder and readjusting my hair.

He strides over to his office door, reaches for the lock. He turns to me when he realizes it’s already secure. “You came with expectations?”

“That was before…but obviously…”

As quickly as he’d crossed to the door he’s back in front of me, towering over me as I lean, weak-kneed, against his chair.

“Hot and horny, are you?”

His tone sounds condescending, and there’s a strange glint in his eye.

“Don’t be like that.”

His fingers go to his belt, start working the buckle. “Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“There are nicer ways to say what you mean, Logan.”

“Meaner ones, too, Ava. Are you afraid of words? Are you more afraid of words or actions?”

He slides his belt out of its loops and slides the leather against the palm of his hands.

“You’re just angry about Lowell’s reaction and you want to take it out on me.”

“Stop telling me how I feel.”

He stretches the belt between his hands and stares at the span of leather.

“When I was little, whenever my dad took off his belt I’d shudder with fear of the blows about to come down.”

I stiffen. A thread of fear winds up my spine. At the same time, I picture Logan as a little boy and my heart breaks a little. I’m confused, and don’t know where he’s coming from. I keep my eye on the belt.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me.”

I don’t believe he really would, but he’s acting strangely, is clearly upset, and seems to believe it’s my fault that he’s changed.

“Pain is part of life, Ava.”

This is not the Logan I know. He has changed. Maybe too much.

“I have to go.” I stand up again.

He doesn’t move to let me pass. I start to take a step sideways. He blocks me.

“You’re mine, Ava, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Fierce with determination, I glare at him. He may be older, a professor, a man stronger than I am, but he’s dealing with a woman willing to fight for her freedom, for her life if she has too.

“Open the door Logan.”

His green eyes are full of a heat I’ve never seen before. There’s anger there, yes, and the fear he won’t admit hiding beneath it, but there’s something else, too. Something new. He smiles as he shakes his head.

“Stay, Ava. You’re my muse. We’ve come too far to turn back now.”

I don’t know what he means. I hold my hands up to his chest to push him away. He holds my hands lightly against his chest. Not tightly, not to keep me still. He just holds my hands with his. His palms are warm and soft covering the backs of my hands.

“I have changed, Ava. And my writing has changed. I see it now. I know there’s no going back. Now I want to take you with me.”

I keep my eye on the door. “Take me with you?”

“To the edge,” he says. “Will you let me?”

I start to shake my head. With a finger and a thumb he holds my chin in place. Gently, not forcefully. He looks deep into my eyes, as if searching for something. The fear and anger disappears and I see the man I know well, the one I trust.

“You’re right, Ava. I am scared. I’ve been scared to change and scared to grow. My ‘act’ always worked for me. Until I met you. You’re making me into something new, I started to feel it in New York, but what’s old doesn’t want to let go just yet. Please, just trust me,” he whispers. “Let me take you to your edge.”

His green eyes hold mine and for a brief moment they radiate a profound tenderness before they swirl over with a dangerous, wicked passion.

He pushes into me until my thighs are pinned against the chair. His erection presses against my pubic bone. I feel a swoon of arousal but I hold my ground.

“What do you want, Logan?”

“I want to have my way with you. I want you to do exactly what I say to do, Ava. And I want you to let me do exactly what I want to do
to
you.”

“What if I say no?”

He stops, takes a half step away from me. “
Are
you saying no?”

Our eyes meet. He waits for me to answer. His patience earns my trust again.

Without breaking eye contact, I slowly shake my head.

“Are you saying yes?” He waits.

I decide to surrender, to let him have his way with me. To take me wherever he wants me to go. I nod slowly.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling my arms straight behind me. I feel him fiddling with something, and then I feel leather wrap and knot around my wrists. I try to pull my arms apart but can’t.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Relax.”

He presses his hips into my belly and his mouth falls to ravaging my throat.

I’m caught between wanting to fight or flee but I’m pinned against the chair, my hands are bound, and his lips on my neck are heating up every inch of me. I’ve lost my balance along with my mind. I may be leaning against the chair but Logan is holding me up. If he let me go now, I’d fall.

“Stay with me, Ava. Trust me,” he whispers again as his lips rove past my ear. “I would never hurt you, I promise. I may not want to change, but you do. You’ve changed me, now let me change you.”

His left hand palms my right tit. He tugs at the vee of my blouse, popping the remaining buttons as he slides toward my belly and then back up. He pinches my erect nipple and I whimper.

His lips slide down my collar bone, across the round flesh of my tit, until his mouth wraps around my nipple. He sucks hard, and then I feel his teeth. I whimper again but it comes out more like a moan. I feel myself tipping back now that Logan has moved further down my body. I’m going to fall backwards over the chair without the use of my arms. The leather is biting into my wrists as I instinctively try to writhe free. I want to wrap my arms around him. I want to hold myself up. I want to feel some sense of control. But I have none right now.

His mouth takes hold of my other nipple. His hands slide up my back to give me more support.

“Relax. You’re so tense.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.”

I’ve not forgotten that we’re in his office, where we’re supposed to pretend to be interacting academically, pretend that he’s tutoring me, teaching me. Maybe he is…

I allow myself to trust him, at least for right now. We’re at an edge we’ve never been to before, and we are quickly slipping over. Into what I’m not sure, but now I have to find out.

He kisses his way up my chest to my neck, my jawline, until he reaches my lips. He hasn’t kissed my lips yet and I want him to. I want his hot mouth to claim mine. An intensity of damp heat flares between my legs and I feel an urge to squirm, to draw his hips toward me again. I want him so bad right now.

Instead of kissing me he breathes words into my mouth, “I’m not going to let you go, Ava, but I want you to let go of everything you know yourself to be and just
feel.”

“What are you going to do?” I whisper, still a little afraid of his mood but too aroused to want to fight or flee anymore.

“I’m going to change you irrevocably. Like you changed me.”

He pulls away from me then and walks toward his desk. I sit precariously on the arm of the chair, wobbly and woozy with arousal. I don’t like his words, but he’s right, words are different than actions. I don’t care about the words anymore, only about the desire he’s acting out, which is different from times before. He’s still angry, I can tell, and he wants to take it out on me, I can tell that too, but he seems to know he’s driven by all that, and he wants me to trust him with all of this, with myself, with my ability to receive all that he has to offer, even his anger and pain.

“Can you take this off?” I gesture with my shoulders to indicate my bound wrists.

He shakes his head as he pulls a silk bag with a drawstring cord from his desk drawer. It’s about the size of a tissue box, but soft-sided and containing several items, none of which can be seen through the navy silk. He pulls a strip of fabric out of the bag. It, too, seems to be made of silk. He leaves the bag on the edge of his desk and returns to me.

“We’re not taking anything off,” he says. “We’re putting something else on.”

He wraps the strip of silk around my eyes.

“Logan, I don’t think I…”

“Shhh, I don’t want you to think at all,” he says.

The silk feels cool against my eyelids. He knots it tightly around the back of my head.

“But why….?”

“You create visual work with the eyes
for
the eyes. They are your primary tool of perception. Let go of that for now. Just relax…”

I’m sitting with my arms tied behind my back, a blindfold over my eyes, and my blouse hanging wide open. I still have on my skirt and shoes, though I feel Logan at my feet now, taking my shoes off. I’m nervous about being in his office. I remind myself that the door’s locked. After lifting and removing each shoe, he slides a hand up each leg, pushing up my skirt as he goes, until he reaches my panties, which he unceremoniously tugs off.

“Let’s get rid of this, too,” he says. He undoes the hook and eye fastener at the side of my skirt. He pulls me up to standing to let the skirt fall to the floor and then pushes me back down against the chair.

He plants each foot wider apart than they were before. With my panties and skirt gone, I’m feeling very exposed, and splayed.

“Logan?” He’s not touching me now, and I can’t see him.

“I’m here, baby. Just looking at you. You look gorgeous. I could eat you up.”

Quite suddenly I feel his tongue on my clit and I jolt. His hands press down against my thighs.

“Shhhh,” he hisses into my pussy. The cool air mixed with his hot tongue creates a delightful sensation. But I am at his mercy. Sightless, my arms unusable, I only have my feet on the ground to keep me stable, but with each lick and probe of his tongue even that little bit of stability is beginning to wobble. Then he picks up one of my legs and wraps it around his neck and over his back.

“Logan, I…”

“Let go, Ava.”

I try to, and it’s not as hard as I thought as he devours me like a thirsty traveler who’s found an oasis in a desert. I want to rock my pelvis toward his jaw but I can’t really move, and because of my position, he doesn’t have access to my opening, only my labia and clit, which he is sucking like he wants to swallow me whole. My whole body trembles with ticklish pleasure. The thought at the back of my mind — what about the chair? What if I stain it? — doesn’t cohere into a complete thought. I have let go…

Logan changes from sucking to flicking my engorged clit and I feel as if I could come right now. I’m panting and whimpering with anticipated release. With my leg around his neck I attempt to draw him closer, press him harder into me, as my orgasm builds. He stops suddenly, moves my leg aside, and “disappears” from my senses.

“Enough,” I hear him say. I’m confused, and rattled by the intensity of my orgasmic build. Is that it? Is he going to leave me hanging?

I hear the rustle of clothing, of him moving to and from his desk (I think, but can’t really be sure). A trickle of fear returns. What if someone walks in on us? What would I look like sitting here bound, blindfolded, flushed, with juices flowing? I most definitely have stained his beautiful leather chair.

But Logan either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care. What is he doing?

“That little warm up was for you, Ava, but the rest is for me.”

He steps between my legs and I know he’s naked. The tip of his cock brushes against my tit. I breathe in the scent of it, the mix of soap and must, a heady elixir that makes my mouth water. My wrists pull against the leather belt. I want to touch his cock. I want to rip off this blindfold and gaze at its thick length. I moan with frustration.

I feel his hand on the back of my head. He guides me down until his cock brushes my lips. Oh, the skin of the head is so soft, warm, and smooth. I part my lips and he guides his cock into my mouth. I wrap my lips tight around him and suck. Then I let go and let my tongue swirl around the ridge at the base of the head where the skin extends out like the edge of a helmet. It’s so strange doing this without seeing, without touching, but it’s still delicious, just different. I don’t have any real control. Only my mouth, the dance of my tongue and my opening and closing lips. I can’t create much friction, and I can’t take him too deep inside unless he chooses to come closer. He’s touching himself too. My lips bump against his fingers as he slides up and down. He’s working himself pretty fast and tight. I want to be doing it for him, but I guess he likes it like this for now. I can hear him breathing deep and fast. Then he pulls away from me. I keep my mouth open, waiting. I hear him say my name.

“Oh, Ava…” His voice catches and I’m worried that he’s going to go off right now. Maybe that’s what he wants. Maybe he wants to come on my face, with me blindfolded. I don’t want that. But he just said the rest was for him, didn’t he? Maybe I won’t even get to come with him. I close my parted lips. That’s when he grabs my head and growls. He shoves his cock back in my mouth.

“Stay open to me,” he demands.

Now he’s driving himself right to the back of my throat making me gag. With one hand he’s pushing himself into me and with the other he’s pushing my head closer to him. I convulse slightly with the force of it all. While it hurts a little, and is shocking to the senses in play, I am overwhelmed by his forceful desire and feel turned on to the point of aching. My pussy throbs with a hunger for him.

“I could come right now,” he grunts. His hand slides from the back of my head to my jaw, where his thumb rests on my lip and touches his cock sliding in and out. “You’re so sexy. I could cream you right now.”

If I had my hands free I’d be touching myself. It would take next to nothing to rub out an exploding climax timed with his release. I can’t believe how turned on I am right now. His words don’t matter, only his body’s motions, the energy radiating off of him, my own responses to my primal needs. Nothing matters but this throbbing pulse that needs to race until in bursts into incandescent flames of satiated desire.