Master of the Dark Side: A Novella (7 page)

He didn’t move away until her entire body lay limp under him. He nodded, satisfaction a gold color in his eyes. “Good. Put your hands on my shoulders,” he said, his voice lower and rougher, vibrating against her bones. “Don’t move them from there, is that clear?”

Oh God, he made her so hot. So wet. “Yes, Sir.” Calling him that sounded right. She curled her fingers over his shoulders, feeling how his skin stretched over iron-hard muscles. She ran her hand down his deltoid, over the hollow in his triceps, and around to the curve of his biceps. He could do anything he wanted to her, she realized; he was just that strong. She stiffened, her fingernails digging into him in momentary fear.

His eyes narrowed, and just looking into them—at his face with his determined jaw, the laugh lines beside his mouth—her worry seeped away.

His slow smile warmed her. “Better. Now I want you perfectly still.” His eyes crinkled as he whispered, “I’m going to fill you full, and you’re not going to move as I do.”

Oh God.

Before she had a chance to react, he was pushing into her. The head of his cock breached her entrance, so wide he had to slide in and out in increments before her muscles stretched to accommodate him. “Fuck, you’re tight, baby.”

The effort of holding still sent tremors up and down her body as he surged in farther. Wonderful, painful, thrilling stretching, more and more until his pelvis finally pressed firmly against hers. Every nerve throbbed, waiting for the delicious friction—

He pulled back, then thrust again, and she groaned at the exhilarating surge of sensation. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and he looked at her, eyes glowing with heat—and warning. “Don’t move, Summer.”

The need to control herself made everything so much more intense. Holding her breath, keeping so very still…

“That’s a girl.” His grin flashed.

Supporting himself on one arm, he used the other to lift her ass so he could rub his groin on her pussy with every stroke. The pressure, the brush of his hair over her sensitive clit, and the glide of his erection between her folds drove her mad, pushing her higher and higher until she couldn’t help it and tried to grind against him.

“Summer,” he warned.

“Oh please,” she whispered, the size of him stretching her with each thrust. Her clit tightened, hardened, needing more, until her moans were almost constant.

When her head rolled on the pillow, he moved the hand bearing his weight up higher to tangle his fingers in her hair, trapping her. His weight pinned her body, she couldn’t move her head, could only stare at his rugged face, feel his hand under her ass moving her to his own satisfaction.

As if he’d taken away her last barrier, a violent tremor ran through her. And then everything inside her clenched and burst outward. Hot pleasure engulfed her as her core spasmed around his intrusion.

He started a hard, fast rhythm, and the hammering of his shaft kept her orgasm going, drawing out the pleasure until the room lost focus. His hand pulled her hair painfully as he pressed deep, deeper. Under her fingers, his shoulders hardened, and he made a guttural sound. His cock jerked inside her as he came.

After a moment, he rested his forehead against hers, the movement so friendly and intimate that she sighed with happiness. He loosened his hand in her hair and nuzzled the damp strands at her temple. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep with satisfaction. “You’d be a delight in bed in normal circumstances, but when you”—he hesitated, as if uncomfortable with the word—“
submit
, the pleasure almost takes my head off. You’re beautiful, Summer.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered. As if he knew how comforting his closeness was, he stayed inside her a satisfyingly long time. Stroking his hand over her breasts and stomach, he kissed her now and then, letting her come back to reality surrounded by his warmth.

When she took a long shuddering breath, he gave her his slow smile and moved off, pulling his cock out with a sigh. After disposing of the condom, he released her legs, helping her work the kinks out. Then he lay down and pulled her against his side.

He smelled of sex and man and a hint of outdoorsy aftershave, and she sighed and settled her head in the hollow of his shoulder. She ruffled her fingers through his chest hair, tracing out the indentations of his nipples hidden within, and tried to think when she’d felt so satisfied. So content, as if every empty space in her body and soul had been filled to overflowing.

Eventually he kissed her forehead. “You sure you don’t want to go back to my hotel room for a couple of hours?”

God
. His unexpected question hit her hard, like he’d taken her lungs and squeezed the air out of them. She pushed up on her elbow. When he lifted her hand to his lips, she saw the tiny scars on her forearm where Dirk’s cane had split her skin. Other scars decorated her back. Nothing too noticeable—perhaps she should be grateful for having pale skin—but always there. “No. I’m sorry, but no.”

“All right.” He opened her hand and laid it against his cheek. His light brown stubble scraped her palm, and his cheekbone was hard under her fingertip. Heavy bones, like the man, solid and unmovable. “Then will you meet me for breakfast? You can pick the place. I’ve got to return home tomorrow, but I want to see you before I leave.” His brow creased. “There’s… something… between us. I’d like to come back and visit you.”

She shook her head.

He gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, but his eyes had changed, golden brown to green, and already she knew the signs of his disappointment. Anger too? She tensed and examined his face carefully. He was a dom, used to getting his own way. Her gaze dropped to his hand as an echo of Dirk sounded in her head: “
Fucking bitch, you’ll do it my way or else
.”

“I realize you don’t know me well,” Virgil said in an even voice, “but it bothers me when you look at me as if you believe I might hit you.”

Her eyes flashed up to his, and she realized she’d been staring at his hand. Waiting for his anger. “I-I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I think I get it. Did he beat you up more than once?”

“No,” she said without thinking. “I mean—”

“Do not lie to me, Summer.” Under her palm, the muscles of his face turned to steel. “That does piss me off, and considering your lack of clothing and your position, it would be easy to spank your ass again.”

She stiffened, despite the wave of heat.

“Now, just so you know, I punched a girl once.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “We had an all-out brawl, in fact.”

The heat turned cold, and she started to pull away, but he laid his hand over hers, keeping it on his face. “She wanted only her friends on the merry-go-round, and I didn’t think that was right. My brothers and I wanted to play too. She pushed me down and—”

Wait a minute
. Merry-go-round? “Exactly how old were you?”

“About four.” The sun lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Morgan told on me—the rat—and my father had a
discussion
with me about the Masterson philosophy of how a man treats a lady. It didn’t matter how short the man was. Only a few things got Pa riled enough to wallop us, and I’d run square into that one.”

“You were four.” She stared at him, and laughter bubbled up, catching her by surprise. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Very true. But, Summer, that was the last time I hit a woman.” His mouth turned up into a wry smile. “At least until recently.”

Her muscles tightened again, and then she realized what he meant. “For BDSM.”

He nodded. “My cousin fell in love with a dom, so I checked into it to see if I needed to kill him before they got married.”

“And you liked it.”

He sighed. “Yeah. Can’t say I’m comfortable about the notion.”

He massaged her fingers, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles. His hand felt so warm, she knew hers must be icy cold. She felt cold, in fact.
I’m not ready to be with a real dom
. He might be new, but he was damned well dominant.

“Does anything I’ve said change your mind about seeing me, Summer?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, the fear deeper than the unhappiness sweeping through her.
I want to
… “I c-can’t. I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry that I can’t convince you to trust me, at least that far.”

A discreet tap on the door made him look up, and he frowned. “We’ve hogged this room long enough, apparently.” He rolled off the bed, picked her up around the waist, and set her on her feet. His strength still stole her breath.

He dressed faster than she did, nudged her hands away, and finished lacing up her vest. The feel of his sure fingers made her nipples harden, and he ran his finger over one, then kissed the top of her head. “Pretty Summer.”

She didn’t have any words to give him back.

After slinging his toy bag over his shoulder, he led the way out of the room. In the dungeon, he stopped. “Thank you for the evening,” he said, his eyes shadowed by his hat. Looming over her, he tilted her chin up and gave her a kiss. A gentle, lingering, good-bye kiss.

She watched him walk away, saw how people automatically moved out of his path. So very dominant…and she wanted him back so badly her chest ached.

‡

V
irgil’s drive home
to Bear Flat seemed to last forever. In the quiet of his truck, he couldn’t evade the memories of the previous night and the beauty of Summer’s responses. He had to face his own reactions and the unsettling realization that he’d known what to do to push her and how to take her further until she was aware of only him and the pain and pleasure he gave her.

With Summer, he’d learned what Logan meant by breaking down a submissive’s barriers, opening her to the moment and to sheer pleasure.

He’d felt the joy in the exchange—they’d been so connected that he could almost hear her thoughts and feel the sensations she was experiencing. Knowing she’d willingly given him such power over her had been headier than drinking a bottle of scotch.

It felt good, but did that make it right?
Fucking-A
. He’d tied her up, taken her choices away from her, and dammit, that was wrong. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He might be a tad overprotective when it came to women, but he damned well believed women were equal to men in everything except pure, dumb muscle. Hell, if he’d thought differently, his little cousin would have kicked his balls into his throat.

But he’d gloried in making Summer defenseless. In using his strength and size to do so. In seeing her try to escape his grip and his ropes.

She’d trusted him enough to let him tie her up even as she shivered, her eyes wide with a hint of fear and hot with lust. He’d watched her responses as he touched her, put cuffs on her, and his dick had been hard as a rock. He’d never been so aroused.

His mouth flattened. And then he’d spanked her…and liked it. Hell yes. It was as if an animal had been unleashed inside him. He’d heard the smack of the paddle hitting her ass, seen the shock of pain traveling through her, the tears puddling in her eyes. And he’d continued. What kind of a monster
was
he?

He’d told her he didn’t hit women, even as her ass still glowed red from his actions. What a fucking hypocrite.

But she’d loved it. “
I’ve never come so hard before or felt so…fulfilled
.” He’d given her what she wanted. More—she
needed
that pain, for whatever reason, and he’d fulfilled her need.

Hurting a woman isn’t right.

But she’d wanted him to.

Hadn’t she? Wasn’t that what all rapists said?
She wanted it, your Honor, really she did.

He turned onto the smaller county road leading to Bear Flat. The engine’s hum deepened as the road grew steeper. The scent of pine filled the truck, and the air chilled with the bite of snow from the high peaks.

Home. He belonged here where the Mastersons had settled during the gold rush days and never left. His family had a reputation of honesty and uprightness. So did he. He took pride in being a cop—a good cop. So what kind of lawman got a rush out of tying up a woman and forcing her into
anything
—even pleasure? His gut tightened as if he’d eaten the lead pellets from a shotgun.

A few minutes later, he drove through his tiny town, nodding at the waves he received from people on the boardwalk. His neighbors. His friends.

Perhaps the Hunts could indulge in BDSM and still live here, but he didn’t think he could, so it was best that Summer had turned him down. He’d had his fun, but he was home now. Time to set it aside and pick up a normal life.

*