A single light shone down, illuminating a still figure in the darkness for a brief moment. A woman stood at the corner of the platform, head bowed; a spill of long inky hair hiding her face. Her skin, like milk. Luminous in the darkness. It was a stark contrast to her hair and satiny black lingerie; bustier, panties, thigh high stockings and fierce black pumps.
The light winked out, plunging the room back into darkness.
A flutter went through the crowd. There was no music. No sound, save for the girl's slow, even breathing.
The light came again, this time illuminating the far side of the platform. A man sat in a sturdy leather armchair, leaning back with his legs spread slightly in casual repose. Boots. Jeans. Belt with a plain silver buckle. A crisp white button down shirt under a worn leather vest, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms with a sprinkling of golden hair. His face was shadowed by his hat, revealing only a square bearded jaw. It wasn't a cowboy hat. It was the kind gunslingers wore. All that was missing was the piece strapped to his strong thigh. The man radiated power and danger, even without the allusion to men who lived and died by the gun. He had an aura of primal energy that made the space feel very small.
The light snuffed out, once again swallowing the room in shadow.
When the light came again, it lit a pair of empty, gleaming heels where the woman had been standing moments before. One lay tipped on its side, as if she hadn't been able to crawl out of them fast enough.
The light went out.
It came again from above, golden and warm. Brighter this time, but still only lighting the small sliver of space around the man in the chair. He'd moved. His wiry bulk had shifted forward slightly, his forearm on his strong thigh now as he leaned in. He was smiling into the darkness, his sharp focus on something just outside the circle of light.
Again the room was plunged into darkness.
It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust, but both Marie and Logan could see her, charcoal against shadow. Moving toward him. Slowly. Seductively.
This time when it light came, the man's hat was gone.
Logan felt Marie startle against him.
It was the leonine man from the bar, hair down around his face now, brushing his shoulders. A little wild, like a mane. His full, trimmed beard only added to the effect. His face was a study in predatory focus. Those strange pupils of his were open wide, looking past the pool of light to watch his prey in the gloom.
The room went dark again.
When the light returned, the woman was kneeling between the man's spread knees, swaying lightly. Not touching him, but waiting for direction from the feral, dominant force sprawled lazily in the chair. His feet were bare this time.
Marie sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. There was something about that image that sent her blood skittering under her skin, hot and wild.
The fact that she had a connection to the man on the stage, however tenuous, made it all the more exciting. The good Southern girl in her was a little shocked — he'd seemed so nice. The Rogue was intrigued and aroused, as if she were getting a glimpse of what it would have been like if she'd responded to his unspoken invitation at the bar. It was as if he'd invited her into his bedroom to see just what she was missing.
Her hand stuttered on the tabletop and Logan didn't miss the way her thighs pressed together at the man's casual display of power. There went her pupils, blown wide as her scent became a thousand times more alluring. She was engaged this time in a way she hadn't been before. And so was he. This is what he'd hoped for her tonight. That she'd open herself to it — and to him. That she'd embrace something inside of herself that she'd been hiding from for too long.
A possessive growl rumbled low in Logan's throat as he pulled her against his side more firmly and shifted his body, moving just slightly in front of her. Marie was enthralled by the performance and didn't realize what he was doing. She simply took pleasure in the fact he wanted her close while they watched this intimate act unfold.
The man on the stage kept up the appearance of being solely focused on the woman in front of him, but nodded almost imperceptibly in Logan's direction. Acknowledgement from one predator of the claim made by another.
The man in the chair had noted the Mississippi girl's empty table and his sharp eyes had found her ensconced in the alcove easily enough. He rarely acknowledged the audience at all, but tonight he felt the added thrill of the Mississippi girl's eyes on him. She was ripe with innocence ready to be claimed. It excited him in a way overt sexuality could not. She was not his, but perhaps tonight he would give the girl her first true taste of adult pleasure. And later, when she went home and took off those intriguing gloves, maybe what she saw tonight would be playing behind her eyes when she put her slim, white hand between her legs. Between his thighs, he felt the first stirring of his own pleasure.
The darkness came again.
Beside him, Marie shuddered in anticipation. Logan pressed his nose against Marie's hair and inhaled, feeling his own blood rise.
The light returned. The man's hands were on the woman now. Her smoky eyes were downcast, nude full lips curling into a slow smile. That first touch. His fingers at her throat; a thumb on her pulse. Gentle, but knowing. A wild tattoo beat under his fingertip.
Work-roughened fingers skated down, feeling her swallow and tracing the delicate sweep of her collarbone before stopping on the wide expanse of naked skin on her back above the corset. His eyes gleamed as he used just the lightest pressure to guide her over his knee.
There was a beat of time where the earth stood still. His hand skimmed down, past the ties at her narrow waist that hung so deliciously over the smooth curve of her bottom.
Marie was riveted, waiting with tremulous expectation. The position suggested a spanking, but even she, as innocent as she was, thought that would be too soon. Too easy.
As if he'd heard her thoughts, the man's touch gentled. Instead of the swat the position implied, his caress slid over the swell of the woman's smooth backside, exposed below the silky thong. His short nails glided over her creamy skin. Not hard. But enough to make her shiver and leave pink trails and gooseflesh in their wake. His other hand rested on her neck, stroking lightly.
Logan put his mouth to Marie's ear. "How do you think that hand on her throat makes her feel?" For as much as he wanted this night to be for her, it was about him, too. There were things he wanted to learn.
"I don't know…" Safe? Testing the word in her mind didn't make it any less frightening to speak aloud. She imagined Logan's hand on her neck. "Safe?"
Logan pulled her closer, surprised and pleased by her response.
The man on the stage closed his pale eyes briefly, jaw clenched. Perfection.
The Rogue just smiled.
Up next: Animal. A slow, erotic descent into pleasure and a visceral reaction too strong to deny…
(A short one, I know… but the next one is twice as long, and trust me, you'd rather have it this way than have me break the next part somewhere in the middle…) Heh. My LoganMuse was definitely NOT on board with that plan!
