Master of the Dark Side: A Novella (14 page)

Off to one side, Logan had his arm around Rebecca, supervising. He gave Summer a once-over. “Very sexy, sugar.”

She smiled, heartened by his compliment and Rebecca’s subtle thumbs-up. Maybe she hadn’t wasted her time with an hour of primping. She’d copied MaryAnn and braided a few locks of hair, adding in dark blue beads that matched her bustier and leather skirt. She’d gone heavier with her makeup, so her eyes looked bigger. With luck, her glossy lipstick would have Virgil demanding a blowjob.

She’d like to give him a blowjob.
Oh yeah
. Two nights now and she still hadn’t had a chance to play with his cock. Maybe start by running her tongue over the head. Just as a tease. Maybe he’d wrap her hair around his hand and—

The door opened to a blast of frigid air and swirling snowflakes, and a bear-sized man stepped in.
Virgil
. Every nerve in her body turned happy handsprings.

He tossed his coat in the heap on a couch and stomped the snow off. Typical BDSM attire of black jeans and boots. But what kind of dom wore a flannel shirt, even if it was black? She shook her head. The man sure did things his own way.

His gaze moved down her body, pausing on her breasts, her thighs and legs, and fire lit his eyes, igniting a matching flame inside her. He tilted his head. “You are the sexiest, prettiest woman I’ve seen in just about forever.”

The sincerity in his voice staggered her. Sure, she’d thought she looked good, but somehow when he said it, the impact was entirely different. “Thank you, Sir.”

Virgil nodded at Logan, then set an arm over her shoulder. “Let’s get some water, and we’ll talk about tonight.”

Halfway to the kitchen, Simon called Virgil over to the fireplace. “Rona wants to ski while we’re here. Can you recommend a place?”

“A couple of them are good. Do you have a pen?” Virgil asked.

Looked like they’d be at it for a few minutes. “I’ll get the water and come back,” Summer said.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Virgil squeezed her arm gratefully. “We won’t talk long, I promise.”

She entered the kitchen, feeling appreciated. And sexy.

A hefty, potbellied man stood by the counter. “Hey there, hottie,” he said with a leer and waggled his beer at her.

Maybe there were times sexy wasn’t so good. “Hi.” She gave him a politely cool smile.

Stepping past him to get to the refrigerator, she noticed that instead of the popular cop or military fetwear, he wore a gas company uniform. How odd.

When he took a long pull of the beer, she frowned. Dark Haven had strict rules about no alcohol before BDSM play. “Quite a party,” he said, jerking his chin at the doorway.

“Uh-huh.” She started to pull open the refrigerator door.

She felt a hand run down her butt to between her legs. Dammit! She spun around and glared at him.

He snorted. “Don’t give me that pure and innocent expression. I saw what’s going on in there. One big orgy. So we’re going to have one out here, just you and me.” His gaze traveled down her body like a wash of slime.

What a creep
. “Not interested.”

His face reddened, his expression changing until it had nothing to do with domination and everything to do with violence and rape. “Cunt. No cunt talks to me that way.” His words echoed in the kitchen…the very empty kitchen.

Uneasiness skittered across her nerves as she realized he had her cornered between the massive table and the wall of appliances.

She retreated a step and stopped. Jaw tight, she shook off the encroaching panic.
I’m not restrained, not gagged. Not helpless
. Straightening her back, she gave him a steady stare. “Leave now, before this goes any further.”

He rubbed his crotch, his piggy eyes on her. “You’re giving it away free; I’m going to get me some snatch too.” She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

A drunk. That’s very bad
. Her heart began to hammer against her tightening chest. Summer planted her feet, her hands fisting. Then, not being stupid, she yelled, “Help!”

“Fucking bitch!” He grabbed at her.

Smothering a squeak, she knocked his arm aside. With all her strength, she punched him in the jaw. Pain burst in her knuckles.

He staggered back—right into Virgil. Virgil stepped in front of him, set a hand on his chest, and casually shoved. The creep hit the refrigerator door with a horrible thump, and his eyes went unfocused.

Virgil studied Summer for a moment, then gave her a fleeting smile that did nothing to warm the ice in his eyes.

Well. Talk about a timely rescue
. She realized her hands were still fisted and uncurled her fingers.

“Not a good plan, buddy.” Virgil’s voice was mild. “Supposedly the last poor fucker here who tried rape was given to the femdommes who whipped all the skin off his back…and his dick.”

It took a minute for the man to figure it out. Then his face paled. “Hey, don’t—nothin’ happened.” He gave Summer a pleading look. “I got carried away.”

He edged sideways to avoid Virgil. Once free, he staggered toward the back door. Catching sight of Logan and Simon in the doorway, he shrank another inch and sped up.

Logan’s face looked like stone when he glanced at Summer. “I’m sorry, sugar. His gas truck broke down. Since the tow truck can’t get out here until morning, I gave him a cabin. He wasn’t supposed to leave it.”

Her throat was almost too dry for the words to get past. “Not your fault he didn’t obey.” She hugged herself, feeling as if her bones were covered in ice.

“Summer.” Virgil’s deep voice drew her gaze. He held out his hand. She hesitated only a second, then flew into his arms.

He enclosed her in safety and warmth, rocking her gently. “Good punch, slugger,” he said against her ear. “You okay?”

She nodded, knowing the way she’d attached herself to his waist might tell him differently. He didn’t call her on it, just held her firmly. His flannel shirt felt soft under her cheek, with a homelike scent of laundry detergent.

Around her, the men talked quietly. Logan growled that he’d make sure the man never worked anywhere around Yosemite again, then started grumbling about Virgil’s tall tale. “Whip-cracking dommes?”

Virgil chuckled. “Gullible bastard believed it.”

“I rather enjoyed the story,” Simon said. “I was afraid you’d mop the floor with him instead of terrifying him with femdommes.”

Virgil shrugged. “Summer nailed him good, I’d say. And I’ve had my fill of violence. I’ll bust somebody’s chops if that’s what it takes, but there’s usually a better choice.”

Summer lifted her head and met Simon’s gaze. He smiled slightly, and she realized he was still trying to help her.

But she’d started to think she knew Virgil Masterson. She rubbed her cheek against his hard chest, then pulled back. “How’d you get to the kitchen so fast?”

“I was almost here. I don’t like leaving you alone for long, not at this kind of party.” He ran a finger across her jaw.

“Oh.” Like having her own guardian angel. Why did she find that so comforting? “Thanks for the protection.”

“Part of the job description,” he murmured.

She tilted her head. “Which job?”

His eyes crinkled. “All of them, baby. All of them.” From the wry humor in his smile, he meant it too. “Let me grab some water, and we’ll find a place to talk a bit.”

He was willing to play here even when he didn’t want to…just because she was a coward. How could she think he’d ever hurt her? And how long would she let Dirk sabotage her life? “Actually”—all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, so she took a second to find some—“I’d just as soon talk at your place, if it’s still an option.”

She’d surprised him. His eyes sharpened, and he studied her face for a long, long moment. Then his gaze flickered over her shoulders, her hands. A cop’s stare. A dom’s assessment. Finally he nodded with a fleeting smile. “It’s definitely an option. Do you want to grab anything from your cabin, or should I tuck you in the truck while you still have the courage?”

Oh. Very good point
. “Let’s make a run for it.”

His growly laugh filled the room. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

*

When Virgil turned
the truck down a tiny road, Summer worked on controlling her breathing. Almost there. The dirt road widened into a small open valley. A barn and stockades sat off to the right, and farther out, snowy pastures glowed in the moonlight. The headlights showed the dark forest flowing up the mountain on the left and then illumined a massive two-story log house.

He took her in through a side door. After removing her boots, he led the way up the stairs and opened one of the two doors, flipping on the light.

She smiled at his warm and cozy living room. Cushy chairs of brown and tan plaid flanked a huge dark green sofa. A newspaper lay discarded on a leather ottoman. Across the room, an open door revealed a large bedroom.
Well, damn
. The man had himself a second floor suite that was as big as her apartment.

As he went to hang her coat up, she curled and uncurled her toes in the thick brown carpet.
I’m not scared. Uh-uh.

“I’ll get a fire lit.” He set his toy bag down on a chair next to the couch and knelt in front of a stone fireplace. A herd of carved horses galloped across the mantel. Paperbacks stuffed the built-in bookcases. He liked to read. She hadn’t known.

What else don’t I know? she wondered with an ugly tinge of worry.

On her right was a flat-screen TV with theater system and a wealth of movies in more shelves. Creamy-colored walls lightened the room and showcased Remington prints. She smiled, remembering his so-worn-looking western clothing in Dark Haven. It definitely hadn’t been a costume.

After closing the glass fireplace door, he flicked off the overhead lights so the only illumination came from firelight. He picked up a remote and punched something in, and the low tones of Enya filled the room.

Setting the scene. Her skin chilled.

“Summer.” He held out his hand.

She crossed the room, wishing she wore jeans and a flannel shirt instead of fetwear.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She shook her head, mouth dry.

“All nerves, aren’t you,” he said softly. His hands curled around her upper arms. He pulled her up on tiptoes as he kissed her, no longer sweetly but with pent-up desire, demanding a response as he possessed her mouth. Her senses whirled like fallen leaves in a storm.

When he finally released her, she wanted him with every fiber in her being.

“There now, that’s the look I like to see on your face.” His voice had turned husky; his golden-brown eyes were filled with heat.

She swallowed and rubbed her damp hands on her skirt.

The sun lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You know, every time you put on these sexy clothes, all I can think about is getting you out of them.” He undid the hooks on her bustier. Despite the cold outside, his hands were warm. His calloused fingers scraped lightly over her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks.

She wanted—needed—to touch him, and she ran her palms up his forearms. The corded tendons and muscles under the light brown hair made her clench inside. He was so strong.

He tossed her bustier onto a chair, her leather skirt followed, and she stood naked in the center of the room. Exposed and vulnerable. Deep in her belly, excitement flickered to life.

When she shivered despite the heat under her skin, he set her on the padded arm of the couch and dragged it closer to the fireplace.

She could feel the warmth radiating from the blazing fire, hear the muted pops of the burning wood. What was there about a fire that satisfied a primitive need? She shook her head. Probably the same one that craved a man’s strength.

When Virgil stroked her hair, she looked up and frowned. “You’re still dressed.”

“Yep.” He smiled and pushed her over backward.

“Hey!” Her shoulders hit the cushions, but he’d held on to her hips, so her bottom remained up high on the arm of the couch. Her legs dangled over the side. She struggled to sit up.

He jerked her hips, flattening her again. “Stay right there, Summer.” His eyes narrowed. “If you don’t move, I won’t restrain you.”

Her thumping heart dented the inside of her ribs.

“Do you understand, little sub?” he asked softly. “I want a polite answer.”

When he used that authoritative tone… The flood of excitement swept her willpower away. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Put your arms over your head.”

She did, then frowned. With her butt up so high, she couldn’t move without using her arms.

“Very nice.” He set her left foot on the tall back cushions, exposing the apex of her thighs. She saw him smile and realized he’d positioned the couch so the firelight glowed right on her pussy. The warmth from the fire, from his body, bathed her legs.

His finger traced down her lower stomach, over her mound to between her legs. “It’s damned sexy how you’re always nice and wet for me,” he rumbled in approval. His fingers opened her more, and he ran a finger around her entrance to over her clit. Her hips jolted upward.

“Virgil.” How could he make her feel so exposed and so aroused at the same time. She moved her leg down.