Masters 01 Master of the Mountain (20 page)

Why did she have the feeling she was one step behind him? “Well, yes. If she didn't smother you with her breasts,” she said drily.

“You must have been in and out within seconds, then, little one,” he said softly, moving closer until she could feel the heat from his body through her thin nightgown. “Right after she shoved her tits in my face, I stood up. I'm not sure what hit harder, her ass or her pride.”

Rebecca choked on a laugh and tried to contain the heady feeling sweeping through her. He'd turned Ashley down. He'd come looking for her.

“Seems like we had a bit of miscommunication here.” His hand cupped her chin. “I thought you decided to go bed-hopping tonight.”

“Ew.” She wrinkled her nose. “Please.”

His grin flashed, dark and wicked. “Then you're not all dressed up to…ah, entertain?” His gaze swept down her figure, and she became acutely aware of how very thin and provocative her nightgown appeared. Leaning a forearm against the wall over her head, he ran his other hand down her neck, across the lacy cleavage of the gown. “Very nice.”

She brought her arms up and crossed them over her chest. “I put the gown on just for me.” She bit her lip and added, “I felt a bit unhappy.”

“Ah.” The crease appeared in his cheek. “In that case, perhaps you need cheering up.” He took a firm grip on her wrists and lowered her arms to her sides. “Leave them there, little sub,” he cautioned.

“I'm not a—”

“Silence.”

The snapped command sent heat pooling inside her as if he'd touched her.

He stroked a finger down her neck and across the top of the nightgown. She knew the sheer gold fabric wouldn't hide the tightening of her nipples. Shoot, it didn't hide anything. She'd bought it assuming she'd be somewhat toasted and with Matt, not sober and with someone who curled her toes every time she looked at him.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” he murmured, dipping his hand into the bodice to fondle her breast.

She stiffened. She'd thought better of him. “Don't try to snow me, Logan. I'm overweight and—”

“Becca, if you were skinny, you wouldn't have these.” His hand cupped under her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple in a way that made her legs weaken. His other hand slid down her back and curved under her bottom, pulling her against a thick erection. “I'm a big man, sugar. When I come down on a woman, I want soft, not a bundle of sticks that I might break.” He leaned his weight on her. “If I want somewhere to lay my head—or the rest of me—I prefer a pillow to a rock.” His hand massaged her bottom. “You, little rebel, are a pillow, and I want you just like this.”

Come to think about it, Logan wouldn't bother with lies. If he didn't like something, he wouldn't be tactful about it. Conversely, if he said he liked something, she might be able to believe him. An odd feeling trickled through her as she tried to see herself through his eyes, tried to change the word
soft
from something derogatory to something of value. She was
soft
and desirable.

The door handle rattled, and a man said loudly, “Rebecca. I brought over some wine.”

Logan bit her shoulder, a sharp pain that made her jump and yet wakened a throb down below. He lifted his head. “Noisy cabin you have here. You should complain to the management.”

She snorted a laugh. “I'll just do that.” Grasping Logan's arms, she stood on tiptoes to call over his shoulder, “Sorry, but I'm occupied.”

“The management suggests a different cabin,” Logan said in her ear. “One where disobedient hands can be properly restrained.” He removed her hands from his arms and brought them to his mouth. As he nibbled her fingers, she couldn't help but remember how his lips had felt moving on her pussy. When he bit the soft flesh just below her thumb, a sizzle shot straight to her clit. “Let's go, sugar.”

“O-okay.” If she could walk that far. “Just let me change, and I'll—”

“No, I like what you're wearing.” He glanced around the cabin. “Pack your suitcase.”

Oh sure, like she'd parade through the lodge room in a nightgown? She'd pack, sure. And then she'd change. Tossing the suitcase on the bed, she put her things away, leaving out a pair of jeans and a shirt. Come to think of it, she couldn't walk into the lodge carrying a suitcase. She might as well wear a sign saying I'M A SLUT. She glanced at Logan. “I'm going to leave my bag here on the porch and pick it up in the morning.”

His eyes crinkled, and she saw laughter lighten his blue eyes before he tossed her over his shoulder.

She struggled to find the breath he'd knocked out of her. “Hey!”

With an arm across her thighs, securing her in place, he walked out of the cabin as easily as if he had a purse over his shoulder and not a woman. He set something down, pulled the door shut, and picked it up. Her suitcase. He'd taken her suitcase, obviously intending to march into the lodge. Her suitcase and her in a sheer nightgown over his shoulder.

“Put me down. You are not going to display me like some prize you won.” She squirmed on his shoulder, kicking her legs up.

His grip tightened. With a low chuckle, he said, “You know, I can carry you and your suitcase if you're quiet. If you fight, I'll need both hands, and the easiest way to keep a woman over your shoulder is with a hand on her ass, and the other hand between her legs. Your choice, pet.”

Oh God, he wouldn't.

He would.

She let her body go limp.

“Wise choice.” He resumed walking down the trail, swinging her suitcase at his side. “But the other way would have been more fun.”

The lodge was noisy when they entered, and Rebecca kept her head down. Maybe he'd get to his door without anyone noticing.

He slammed the lodge door, and the room went silent. He strolled over to the door to upstairs.

Boots sounded on the wooden floor. “Let me just get our door for you, bro.” Jake's voice shook with laughter. The keypad beeped; the door squeaked slightly as it opened.

“Thanks.” Logan turned to the swingers. He patted her butt. “Mine.” His voice had a violent edge she didn't recognize, but the threatening tone came through loud and clear. “And I don't share.”

Logan watched as his little sub struggled back to a sitting position, her green eyes all but spitting at him. “You…you Neanderthal. I don't belong to you, and you—”

Fuck, but she was adorable. Still, she was in his quarters now. He wouldn't do a submissive any favors by allowing her to get away with disrespect. Training time. “You do not have permission to speak,” he growled, pleased when her tirade cut off midsentence, showing the instinctive obedience of a sub under command.

He studied her for a long minute, watching her anticipation increase as well as her worry. Her face pinkened with the beginning of arousal. Her hands rubbed her thighs, as if trying to reassure herself.

“Strip.”

Her gasp was delightful. “Now, listen—”

Leaning forward, he lifted her chin so she could see his displeasure. “The only words I want from you are 'yes, Sir.' Am I clear?”

He could see her consider running, using her safe word. Then a quiver ran through her, jiggling her breasts, emphasizing the tight peaks of her nipples, and telling him her decision even before he heard her, “yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He gentled his grip, stroking her soft cheek. He kissed her, letting her feel his warmth.

The pleasure of a submissive at her master's approval glowed in her eyes when he drew back. He squeezed her shoulder, then stepped back, crossed his arms, and waited.

Biting her lip, she rose and pulled her nightgown off, laying it over the arm of the couch. Her flush increased, mostly from embarrassment.

“Take your position over there,” he said, pointing to the rug by the fireplace.

She knelt as ordered. When she looked up at him through her eyelashes, he frowned until she opened her legs wider, wide enough to catch glimpses of her pussy lips within the pubic hair. Pretty, pink treats.

“Very nice, sugar. Stay there now.” He pulled his toy bag out of the closet. “We're going to explore trust first. And then there are other things I want to do to you.”

Her nipples tightened, and the faint glistening of her pussy showed her reaction. Since her eyes were obediently lowered, he permitted himself a grin. As he rummaged through the bag, she stayed in position. His good little sub.

The clothespin breast clamps? Not attractive enough for tonight. He moved them aside. The clover clamps? No. Too painful for her second time. Hmmm. If he used the tweezer-style, he could adjust the pinch. After a minute, he found a pair where the dangling crystals matched the green in her eyes. “Come over here.”

When she stood in front of him, he smiled. “Hands behind your back again, eyes down, legs slightly apart.”

He moved close enough to see the rapid beat of the pulse in her neck. “I like jewelry on my subs.” Bending, he took one nipple in his mouth, sucked it to a peak, and applied a clamp, adjusting it until he saw the muscles around her eyes tighten with pain. Appreciation swept through him; she wasn't a whiner, was she? He pulled the ring down to loosen the clamp slightly. Her teeth nibbled her lips again, so he kissed her and checked her pussy. Very wet. The other clamp went on, accompanied by a hiss of breath. He slid his fingers back into her pussy again, tracing her folds, increasing her arousal.

Her body quivered uncontrollably as Logan fondled her, sliding his fingers over her clit until it throbbed. When he pushed a finger inside her, she had to clench her hands to stay still. With her eyes lowered, she could only see his long legs and his muscular forearm, the sleeves of his rolled-up shirt, his corded wrist, and the hand touching her so intimately.

Touching her as if she had no right to deny him.

Her nipples burned from the clamps. An intense sensation, never lessening, it seemed to make everything on her body more sensitive.

“Bend over and spread your cheeks.”