Master of the Dark Side: A Novella Page 7

  “No?”

  “No. I can’t.” So big, he was too big. Dear God, no one knew he was here. She rose, trapped between the two beds.

  “Summer, look at me.”

  Her back hit the wall of the cabin. She stared at his hands, his huge hands. He could beat her. He could—

  “Eyes. On. Me.” He snapped. “Now.”

  Her gaze shot to his.

  “You’re seeing the past, honey, not me,” he said gently, not moving at all. “Have I ever hurt you”—his smile flickered—“in a way you didn’t like?”

  She swallowed, and her heart rate slowed. “No.”

  “Do you really think I would?”

  “I—” Her hands clenched in front of her. “I didn’t think he would either.”

  “Ah.” Virgil sighed and leaned back against the door, obviously assuming a relaxed posture. “So he not only hurt you, but now you don’t trust your own judgment either?”

  “Just go. Please, Virgil. This will never work.”

  He hesitated like he’d argue, then nodded and left.

  As he walked out, Summer choked on a sob. No. Come back! Fear drained out of her, leaving only emptiness behind. He’d wanted a compromise, to try, had talked honestly, and she’d panicked. Counseling hadn’t done her any good at all. She’d been so hopeful. So sure she was cured.

  She stared at the door, wishing with everything in her for him to walk back in…and knowing she couldn’t function if he did.

  Why am I even here?

  The cabin resonated with loneliness, and her eyes filled. She’d failed. Why bother staying any longer? She had things to do, an apartment to pack, a move to make. Tears dripped on her clothing as she tossed the few items she’d unpacked into the suitcase. After her voice steadied, she’d call Rona so she and Simon wouldn’t worry.

  She stepped out the door. Snowflakes flitted through the air, invisible in the dark night, but glittering in the lantern lights marking the path. By morning, the mountains would be dusted with white. What would it be like to lie in bed with Virgil, watching the snow come down?

  She’d never know. Hefting the suitcase, she trudged to her car. Stupid. Such a coward. I should have tried harder. But a relationship never would have worked. But how would—

  “You always run when you’re nervous?” Virgil’s gentle deep voice stopped her. Her head jerked up.

  He rested his hip against a big pickup in the parking area, arms folded over his chest.

  Her heart did a painful somersault. “What are you doing here?”

  His slow smile creased his face. “Considering all your muttering, probably the same as you. Wanting to stay, telling myself to leave.”

  “To stay? Why?”

  “Well, I figured once I got home, I’d call and talk you into an early supper tomorrow. But I changed my mind.” After tugging her case away, he set a hand in the small of her back and guided her toward her cabin. “We’ll play here tonight in the lodge so you’ll have people around you. Tomorrow we’ll see where we’re at.”

  “But…your reputation.”

  His mouth tightened. “Will have to take care of itself.” He looked down at her, pulling her closer until her hips rubbed against his. “We’ve got more between us than a night of screwing around, so I guess I can handle being called a pervert, if need be. You know, even after this long, I still wake up thinking of you and go to sleep thinking of you.”

  Oh God. Her eyes prickled with tears. She’d considered herself silly, like a love-struck teenager, but he felt the same way. How many men would have admitted that?

  But she needed to stop the hope rising in her. “Virgil, I had counseling after we—after I wanted to leave Dark Haven with you and couldn’t. I thought I was cured, but I still panicked in the cabin. I don’t see how this could work.”

  “Well now, appears I turned your life as upside down as you did mine,” he said softly. His knuckles rubbed across her cheek in a gentle caress, his fingers warm against her cold skin. “Did your counselor say you were all fixed when you were done?”

  “Uh.” She blinked, remembering the last session. A glimmer of hope lightened her heart. “I forgot. She said the panic attacks might still happen, but they’d get better, especially if I keep working through them.”

  “Ah-huh. Would you like help working through them?” His eyes challenged her.

  He’d risk his reputation for her? Could she give less? Her spine straightened. “Yes.”

  “There we go, then.”

  At the cabin, he opened the door. When she stepped in, he smiled and ran a finger over her lips. “I’ll wait in the lodge. If you have one of those corset things, I’d like to see you wear it. No underwear, please.”

  After setting her suitcase on the floor, he closed the door behind him.

  She stood, a little stunned. He was like a river current, cradling her gently until she tried to break free, only to realize it inexorably carried her downstream. Here she was, back at the cabin, ready to change into what he’d told her to wear.

  Why did that feel so exactly right?

  *

  When Summer entered the lodge, the party was in full swing. She stopped to gawk. Sometime since she registered, the owners had transformed the rustic main room into a shadowy dungeon. Heavy iron chains dangled from bolts in the log walls and dark rafters. Bulbs flickered redly in the wall sconces. Two X-shaped St. Andrew’s crosses held submissives. Another sub hung in suspension in the center of the room. Closer to the end wall, a dom was using his sub in a leather swing…quite vigorously. A flogger kept time to the music of Type O Negative’s erotic “Love You to Death.”

  Wow. Simon’s party last year was the only private play she’d ever attended, and this was as different from his stately mansion as anyone could imagine.

  Near the door, one of the lodge owners, Logan Hunt had his arm around a lushly curved redhead while he spoke with a man and woman in street clothing. Summer frowned. With dark brown hair, strong features, and intensely blue eyes, the two men must be brothers. But why did they seem familiar? Come to think of it, so did Logan’s woman.

  He motioned her over. “Summer, this is my wife, Rebecca.”

  The redhead smiled. “Nice to meet you. I like your corset.

  Summer grinned. Aside from the color, there was no difference between her blue corset and Rebecca’s green one. “Yours too.”

  Logan set his hand on his wife’s stomach. “This is the last time she gets to wear it—she needs room for other things.”

  A baby? No wonder the owners planned to turn Serenity into a family lodge. As Rebecca flushed, Summer felt a squeeze of envy. “Congratulations.”

  “And this is my brother Jake, and his wife Kallie,” Logan said.

  The tiny brunette smiled, and Jake said, “It’s good to see you looking so well, pet.”

  That voice, those blue eyes… “Have we met before?”

  “Ha. Like I said—you’re totally forgettable.” Logan grinned at his brother.

  Jake scowled back, then took her hand gently. “We met at Simon’s party last year. I held you after your bastard date caned you.”

  She flinched and tried to pull her hand away.

  His eyes narrowed. “Simon said you’re doing better.”

  One slow breath and she’d regained her equilibrium. Nice reaction, Ms. I’ve-been-cured. Well, no wonder he seemed familiar. She remembered how he’d wrapped her in a blanket, cuddled her, and made her drink tea until she’d stopped shaking. “Sorry, you took me by surprise. That night isn’t a fond memory.”

  “I’d say not,” Rebecca spit out. “I wanted to hit the guy so bad, but these two wouldn’t let me.” She gave Logan a dirty look, then added, “But if no one told you, they each took a punch—that’s after Simon broke his nose—then threw him out the front door so hard he bypassed the sidewalk and landed in the street.”

  What a lovely image. Summer realized she was smiling. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

  “Wish I
’d been there,” Kallie muttered. Her dark eyes snapped with anger. “I hate bullies.”

  “Easy there, sprite,” Jake said. He grinned at Summer. “We won’t be here this weekend, but I wanted to make sure Simon wasn’t lying.” He touched her cheek gently. “You look good. Some dom will be a lucky guy.”

  She flushed. “Thank you.”

  “Simon says Virgil’s got his eye on her,” Logan said casually.

  Kallie’s mouth dropped open. “Virgil? Really?”

  “Good job, asshole,” Jake said to Logan and slung his wife over his shoulder. “We’re out of here, little snoopy person.”

  “Wait, dammit. I want to—” The door closed behind them, Kallie still protesting. A man’s shout of anger came through the door.

  Logan snorted. “I think she bit him.” Rebecca buried her face in his shirt, giggling her head off.

  “Ah…am I missing something?” Summer asked.

  “Small town,” Logan said. From the dom’s uninviting expression, he wouldn’t explain further. “Off with you. Virgil went upstairs to change clothes. I don’t know if he’s come down yet.”

  “Right.”

  Virgil wasn’t in the dungeon area.

  In the kitchen, MaryAnn stood by a munchie-loaded counter, nibbling and singing along with Peter Steele’s dark voice: “Am I good enough…for you.” She gave Summer a happy smile. “’Bout time you got here. I thought I’d have to freeze my ass off to go pry you out of your cabin.”

  “A friend stopped by.”

  “Really? Master or slave?” MaryAnn picked up a sugar cookie and took a bite.

  Kallie isn’t the only snoopy person. “A dom I met in Dark Haven last month.”

  MaryAnn’s eyes widened. “You’re seeing someone besides those buddies of yours? About time, girl.”

  Jeez. “What’s wrong with my friends?”

  “Nothin’, but you got no buzz with them.” MaryAnn toasted her with the bottle. “So who’s this other dude? Are you dating him? Is he nice?”

  “He’s nice.” Wonderful, exciting, awesome.

  “Sounds like a but coming.”

  “But he doesn’t want to scene in public. And I don’t—I can’t—I won’t play in private.” She picked up a bottle of water and unscrewed the top. “It’s hopeless.”

  “Girlfriend, if you figure he’s such a jerk in private, why would you play with him at all?”

  “I don’t think that. I just don’t know.” The swallow of water stuck halfway down, and Summer coughed. “It’s like, even if a guy’s all sweet in public, he could go off on you when you’re alone together. How can you know?”

  “Not easy. Course, I like’em nasty, and I’ve got one waiting in there now.” MaryAnn headed out, squeezing past Simon and Rona, who stood in the doorway. From their concerned expressions, they’d heard Summer’s worries.

  “I spoke with Logan about your cop.” Simon walked over to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “He was raised here, and he’s well-respected. His cousin married Jake Hunt. According to Kallie, he’s honest, caring, blunt, and overprotective.”

  Kallie was his cousin? No wonder she’d been curious. “Information helps. Thank you, Sir.”

  Rona put an arm around her waist. “It helps intellectually, but until you know he’s safe at gut level, nothing will ease your fears, right?”

  “No.” Summer sighed. “But—”

  “There you are.” Virgil walked into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that appeared sprayed over his muscular chest. His biceps stretched the sleeves in such a way she wanted to take a little bite. Oh, she definitely wanted to play with him.

  He nodded at Simon and Rona, then leaned a hip against a counter. His gaze traveled from her loose hair, her mouth, lingered on the cleavage created by the corset, dropped to her thighs displayed by her short latex hoop skirt, and down to her bare feet. His brow creased. “You didn’t walk here barefoot, did you?”

  Rona laughed and whispered in Summer’s ear, “He’s definitely a protective one,” then dragged Simon out of the room.

  “No, I have snow boots,” Summer answered. God, just looking at him made her shake inside.

  “You know, you haven’t kissed me yet.” He pulled her forward into his arms. Iron-hard arms, a rock wall of a chest. Why such an embrace seemed warm and soft and wonderful was one of life’s great mysteries. She pressed her face into his neck, inhaling the lingering scent of the leather jacket he’d worn, his light, woodsy aftershave, and his own masculine fragrance.

  With a rumble of pleasure, he pulled her between his legs. Her pelvis bumped his thick erection, and she rocked into it, mesmerized by the feel, wanting him inside her.

  Chapter Seven

  ‡

  Why did she feel so fucking right? Virgil wondered. He threaded his hands through her sunshine-and-silk hair and kissed her lips lightly, breathing in peaches and vanilla and woman. His cock throbbed, demanding action. “We’re going to go play, but first, let me run over your limits. No blood sports, no severe pain.”

  “No anal.”

  He shook his head and smiled when her eyes widened. “You liked my fingers in your ass, honey. Why do you think you wouldn’t like my cock there?”

  “I just know.”

  “No, you don’t.” From the way her body had reacted to that slight amount of anal play, he figured she’d love more. If not, he wouldn’t either—perhaps she didn’t understand that.

  She bit her lip, but her eyes had turned the color of larkspur blooming in the mountain meadows. His mother had loved larkspur. And laughter and courage. She’d have approved of this tough, joyous woman.

  He ran his hands over Summer’s smooth, bare shoulders, down her tightly laced corset, and curved his fingers under her soft, soft ass cheeks. If he got any harder, he’d toss her onto the huge oak table in the center of the kitchen and take her right there. “You’re going to try anal once, and if you don’t like it, then you’ll have a reason to say no.”

  The way her body melted under his touch said she’d accept his will; the heat in her eyes said she wanted to.

  When she whispered, “Yes, Sir,” pleasure and power flooded his veins. He had to face it—his need to dominate equaled her need to submit.

  *

  An hour later, Summer considered kicking Virgil somewhere painful. Frustrated much, Summer? She’d expected him to drag her off and do a scene. Instead, they’d strolled around the room and watched the various sessions. After the third one, she caught the way he was studying her reactions.

  At a heavy flogging scene, she’d tensed up, and he’d pulled her closer. “Not your thing, I know. Not mine, either.”

  When watching a threesome, he’d smiled at her and run a finger down her cheek. “Doesn’t do anything for you, does it? Me either. I’m too possessive.”

  Near the center of the room, he deliberately stopped to watch a dom taking his sub from behind—in the ass.

  The woman moaned and wiggled as her dom pushed deeper. Summer felt her nipples bunch into peaks, and her pussy grow damper. She glanced up.

  Virgil’s focused gaze rested on her, not the scene. “You’re flushed, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Are you thinking about being in that position tomorrow? Taking your master’s cock in a very, very private place.”

  Her asshole tightened, making her quiver. And making her even wetter.

  He smiled slowly. “Oh, you are. You’ll take it, and I won’t stop until you come.”

  God. Her skin seemed to shimmer with heat. She looked away and spotted MaryAnn.

  The submissive swaggered up to Virgil. “Hey, Master, are you looking for a fun sub?” She ran a finger over his biceps and batted her thick, black lashes.

  His brows drew together in displeasure. “Thank you, no.” He turned back to Summer.

  “But—” MaryAnn moved closer and rubbed her breasts against his arm.

  Summer stared. MaryAnn never came on to the doms. What was she doing?

  V
irgil’s voice was colder than the mountain air as he snapped, “Leave.”

  MaryAnn stepped back hastily. After shooting Summer a bemused look, she walked away.

  Virgil shook his head. “I thought Dark Haven’s submissives were better behaved.” He put his arm around Summer. “Let’s see if you have a liking for anything else.”

  “I already told you what I’m into.”

  “No, honey, you only gave me what you don’t like.” He took her mouth for a long, thorough kiss.

  More, more, more. She set a hand on her stomach, trying to control her breathing. “Do I get to know your preferences?”

  He chuckled. “I’m male. I like sex. I’m a dom—although it still feels wrong to say that—so I like control.” He put his hands around her waist and lifted her to stand on a low coffee table. Her eyes were even with his.

  “Virgil!”

  “I like your taste…everywhere. I like the heat of your cunt around my cock or around my fingers.” He slid his hand under her skirt and between her thighs, and when his finger pushed up into her, she moaned.

  He gave a satisfied rumble. “I like the sounds you make.” His teeth closed on her shoulder. The small bite of pain rippled through her, and her pussy clenched around his finger. She inhaled sharply.

  “Yeah, that sound.” His breath bathed her ear. “Whimpers. Moans. Screams. Little panting noises and sighs. You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.”

  The hot flush rolled up her neck to her face. She tried to edge away.

  His hand fisted in her hair, tugging her head back so her eyes met his. He held her in place as he slid another finger inside her entrance, thrusting gently as his thumb pressed on her clit. Oh God.

  “That sound right there,” he said in the rough, devastating voice she still heard in her dreams. “Give me more.”

  His thumb circled her clit.

  They stood right out in the middle of the room. A dom walking past paused to watch for a second. Summer shook her head. “Virgil, no.”

  His eyes drew her in, swept her willpower away. Without answering, he lifted his knee and used his boot to nudge her feet farther apart on the low coffee table, spreading her more open. “Personally, I like privacy,” he said softly. “I prefer that I’m the only one to hear those little sounds you make—but if you like to share, then you will.”