Masters 01Bis Doms of Dark Haven (16 page)

“No, I'm with someone.”

“Well, your dom shouldn't have left you here like an offering, should he have?” She firmed her jaw and stared directly into his light blue eyes. He was young, perhaps in his midtwenties, and had blond stubble on his chin. His leathers looked stiff and new. He wasn't dressed for tonight's theme.

“I said I'm with someone. Now go away.”

His fair skin flushed with anger. His jaw went tight, and Eva recognized him for what he was—a poser. A bully. If they weren't in a controlled situation, he'd strike out at her.

“Go. Away.”

The young man leaned over the table, facing Eva. He started to speak and then stopped when a low growl floated through the air.

“She said leave.”

Harte's face was dark with fury; his eyes were molten gold. He was barely a step away from wolf, and that exquisite control of his was slipping. Eva swallowed. Part of her was thrilled at the possessiveness in his voice; another part wanted to run. If she ran, would he follow? Inside, her wolf rose to meet him.

The blond straightened slowly and turned to face Harte. He might have considered challenging the angry dom but wisely changed his mind.

“Sorry, man. Misunderstanding. My mistake.” He was between Harte and the table Eva sat on. It was only then that she remembered she was practically naked. Slippery juices from her orgasm still slicked her thighs. She'd been so high from the climax that she'd forgotten where she was and why she was here in the first place. She found her corset and realized that she'd be unable to put it on without assistance. Great! She was sitting nearly stark naked on a table in the middle of a dungeon while two men were preparing to fight over her. She scooted toward the head of the table, trying to distance herself from trouble.

Just when she thought they were going to burst into a fight, a DM stepped in.

“Hey there, Master Harte. MacKenzie. Is there trouble?”

“No trouble. Mac here was just leaving. Heading home. Weren't you, Mac?” The blond looked ready to argue and then thought better of it. He gave a stiff nod.

“Well, if you're leaving, I'll see you to the door.” The DM winked at Eva as he left. She saw the glint of a collar peeking out from the open neck of his shirt.

“He's a sub? And he's bouncing that guy? Sir?”

Harte was still caught up in fury. His breathing began to slow; his eyes slowly regained their hazel color. By the time he spoke, he'd regained his temper.

“Being a sub doesn't mean you're passive or weak. He's just wired to be the bottom in his relationship. Kevin's another good example. He's tough and a good fighter; he simply has no drive to challenge the other wolves. In personal relationships, he enjoys the power that he gains from being the sub.”

She'd heard about that before, the power of the submissive. Harte might be calling the shots, but if she said stop, he'd obey her without question. It was a comforting idea and empowering as well.

He scooped her up in his powerful arms and lifted her off the table. He was treating her as though she were precious and fragile. He settled her on the floor, watching critically to be certain that she was steady on her feet.

She glanced at the front of his trousers; she could easily see his erection straining against the fabric. Eva didn't even try to hold back her smile.

He reached down and picked up his bag. He tossed the abandoned corset to her. “Rest time is over. Back to work.”

Chapter Six

They walked toward a series of rooms situated to the side of the dungeon. The doors didn't lock, so Harte slid open a small peephole to make sure the room was empty.

“You'll like this.”

Eva entered a small space that was fashioned to look like an exotic tent. Silken hangings of vivid, luxurious colors lined the walls, and the floor was covered with heavy oriental rugs. A hookah was displayed on a table in the corner. Pillows and throws made of silk and velvet were strewn over the floor. A rich, thronelike chair sat at one end of the room. She could easily imagine a sheikh lounging there, choosing from his harem.

“Take a seat.” He gestured to the floor, so Eva settled on one of the huge pillows. Harte sat with his back against fabric-covered wall.

“So talk to me.”

She looked at him in puzzlement. “About what?”

He rested his head against the wall. “I just tied you up and whipped you. Then I dribbled hot wax on your skin and gave you a very public anal orgasm. You crossed some major boundaries, and I need to know what's going on in your head.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Eva?”

“May I take off my boots?” He nodded his permission, and Eva untied the laces, then removed the boots with a sigh. “I've been on my feet well over twelve hours.”

Without comment, Hart moved over and began to massage her aching feet. She tried to jerk away, but he growled softly, telling her that perhaps his control wasn't as complete as she'd believed. When he pulled massage oil from his bag, she sighed with bliss. He carefully unfastened the garters and rolled down her stockings. He warmed the oil with his hands before smoothing it onto her skin.

“If anyone else in the world tried any of this with me, I'd have had their head.”

“I knew you were a dangerous woman.”

He grinned, and her heart melted just a bit. She reclined and stared at the ceiling. In the relative quiet of the little room, she could make out noises from upstairs: footsteps and muffled voices as well as music and the sound of the pipes in the walls.

“I can hear Brian's voice. I can't hear what he's saying, but I can hear him,” she said.

He rotated her foot, stretching her hamstring.

“He's up to no good, you know. He and Patrice. I hope they don't have many followers in the pack.”

“Some. We're a bit scattered. I keep the ones like Kevin close to me. Make sure they have jobs and a chance at school. The ones like Brian and Patrice don't depend on me so much, so that makes it easier for them to rebel.”

“They all need you. A wolf pack is a social structure. They all need the approval and support of their alpha. You need them to need you.”

He smiled but didn't look up at her face. “You know an awful lot for a lone wolf.”

“You're the one who told me it was in my genetic wiring. I just think maybe you're being a little too human. Too civil.” She looked at him soberly. “You're alone at the top. That can't feel good.”

She reclined on the pillow and let the wonderful sensation of Harte's hands flow over her. She closed her eyes, picturing the club in her mind. Mentally she tracked the movements of Harte's wolves and the Abraxas hunters.

“I never realized that I could isolate so much information. The jumble of sounds and smells always overwhelmed me. Now when I remember leaving the faire tonight, I clearly recall the scents of the two men who were down here.” She wiggled her toes as he pulled at them. “I remember hearing their whispers. They were upwind of me.”

He worked quietly for a while. Finally he put the oil away and wiped down her feet with a towel from his bag.

“Not the third?”

She shook her head. She'd never gotten a bead on that one.

“I was…surprised by what you did to me tonight.”

“What part?” He was back against the wall, giving her space. She looked over at his body; it gleamed in the dim light. Suddenly she wanted to touch him, to run her hands over the sleek muscles of his chest. Once again her gaze settled on the ridge of his erection. She'd climaxed, but he hadn't. She scented his arousal. It had to be uncomfortable, but Harte seemed at peace with it.

“When I was blindfolded, I anticipated a blow, but you stroked me. The whips hurt a bit, but they were arousing.” She rolled onto her side and looked at him. “The wax was hot but not painful, yet my brain told me it burned.” She knew the term for what he'd been doing to her. They called it “mindfuck.” She'd expected pain and instead received pleasure. He'd been messing with her head. “It was scary and exciting and…”

“And…” he prompted.

“Intimate. I've never allowed anyone control me that way.”

She didn't want to talk about the climax. She didn't want to tell him that she'd never allowed a man to go down on her before. All those years living hard, sometimes days—even weeks—passed without her being able to take a shower. She'd always associated her genitals with being unclean. Tonight he'd performed oral sex and capped it all with a finger up her ass. He was right—she'd crossed some major boundaries in the past couple of hours.

Eva sighed. How could she communicate all this to him when she barely understood her own reactions?

“Have you ever been hungry, Harte? I mean honest-to-God it's-been-days-since-you-ate hungry?”

He swallowed and shook his head. His eyes glowed, catching the dim light.

“Sometimes I ate scraps out of Dumpsters. Sometimes I begged. A lot of the time I was dirty, and the people around me were dirty. I could smell them… Intimacy was a huge issue. Yet I hungered for touch. I still do, but old habits…” She closed her eyes.

“Eva, you coped well with everything except one punishment. I don't know that you were even aware you reacted as strongly as you did.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “The wax?”

He smiled grimly. “No, not the wax. I doubt you even remember what it was.” He looked her over steadily. “In fact, I would say that you stayed in remarkable control this evening. And staying in control was not what I wished for you.” His eyes looked dangerous and feral. Goose bumps ran down her arms. Nervously she showed him her throat.

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. It just means that we aren't finished.” He smiled slowly.

Great. Just great. She was hot and horny. All she wanted right now was to lie on her back and feel his weight between her legs. She wanted his naked skin against hers. She wanted to fuck.

But he wasn't finished playing his games.

“Yes, Sir.” She rolled to her knees and assumed the position of submission, waiting for his next instruction. He left her there long enough that her knees began to ache. He rose gracefully from the floor and crossed to the chair, then sat like a king on his throne.

“Come to me.” She started to rise. “On your knees, sub.”

Her heart picked up its pace. Eva settled back onto her knees and made her way to where Harte sat waiting expectantly. He watched her curiously, as though expecting her to react with something other than obedience. She bit her tongue, marveling at her own compliance. Was this the training, or was she truly submitting to Harte?

Soon enough she was on a cushion, kneeling between his spread legs. When she dared to look up, he'd unzipped his pants. His rigid, erect phallus jutted from the fly. His waistband was still fastened.

“Lick me.”

Her gaze shot from his face back to his cock, and instinctively she licked her lips. Eva didn't like being on her knees before anyone. She didn't like being forced to subjugate her will like this. Nevertheless she shifted a bit closer and reached up to grasp him in her hand.

“No hands. Clasp them behind your back.”

She looked at him, barely disguising her frustration. She straightened her posture and linked her hands behind her back. She leaned in and tentatively ran the tip of her tongue from the base to the head of his cock.

He was uncut and long, but wide enough to fill a woman. When she ducked her head for another pass, he hooked one leg up over the arm of the chair. This close, she scented his sweat and his musk and the mouthwatering scent of his arousal.

Again she licked, swirling her tongue over the shiny head of his cock when she reached the top. She flicked her tongue into the slit, taking the salty taste of his precum. With her lips, she worked the foreskin back, nibbling the tiniest bit.

Her creativity was a mystery, as she'd only gone down on a man a couple of times in her life. Perhaps it was the command that he'd given to not use her hands. Or maybe it was just Harte. She licked long and slow and then quick and fluttery.

He didn't make a sound. He simply looked down, watching her through hooded eyes.

Eva worked at his pants with her teeth, carefully making space for his balls to be revealed to her ministrations. Harte's first sign of frustration was when he pushed her head away, adjusted himself, and offered them up like ripe fruit. She licked and nuzzled before blowing lightly over the velvety sac. She gently worked one and then the other into her mouth, sucking lightly. He gasped.

“Enough.”

She leaned back, feeling a bit of triumph to see that sweat glistened on his torso. Eva knelt humbly between his legs, looking down at the floor, a satisfied smile on her face.

Harte glared down at her bowed head. He used his displeasure to hide his complete loss of balance. He'd been so close to the edge that he'd literally felt the climax cresting; it was ready to swamp him still. He took a moment to gather his control.

“I told you to lick my cock.”

“I did! Sir.”

She looked more than a little peeved at his displeasure. It was only a mask on his part. She'd well and truly upset his applecart. But there was punishment to be applied. She'd obeyed him to the letter, but not to the spirit of his command.

Little vixen.

“I said lick. You did a bit more than that.”

“But…” she protested in righteous indignation. He lifted a single brow. “Yes, Sir.” Her head dropped again, and her shoulders sagged just a tiny bit. “I was just trying to please you.”

“That was pleasant. Incredibly pleasant. But I didn't tell you to suck me. I told you to lick me.”

He was quite certain she got his point. She didn't like it, but she understood. She also understood the opportunity that her disobedience had offered him. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Get up on your feet.”

She rose, looking humbled and a bit confused.

“Now lie over my lap.”

“What?”

He smiled at her outrage. He'd flogged her, caned her, pushed her into a public orgasm, and
now
she bristled with outrage!

“You know what I just said. Over my lap.”

She took a step back; for a moment, he thought she'd refuse. “Are you using your safe word, Eva?”