All's Fair in Love and Mastery

by Sparrow Beckett

  Grant opened his mouth, then closed it again, feeling lost. “I thought you were afraid of the dark.”

  Will snorted and collapsed heavily into one of the chairs on the other side of Grant’s desk. “Well, I was. But that’s not why I was in your room. I couldn’t protect you from the teachers at your stupid school, so I figured I could at least be there for you at night when you were home.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

  “You’ve made it pretty clear over the years that the topic was off-limits. I respected that.” He swallowed. “Did anyone there . . . touch you?”

  “No. It wasn’t like that.”

  Will tossed back a drink Grant hadn’t even noticed he was holding. “Well, I didn’t fail you on that count until we left home, at least. Out of the frying pan into the fire.”

  Grant just stared at him.

  “Oh, right. I’m supposed to pretend I don’t know about that either, I forgot.”

  “We weren’t at the shelter long. A lot of people have been through worse.”

  “Sure. But they weren’t my responsibility.”

  Grant grimaced. “I’ve never been your responsibility, doorknob. It’s not like you’re old enough to be my benevolent father figure. What’s a twelve-year-old going to do to protect a ten-year-old? What’s a nineteen-year-old going to do to protect a seventeen-year-old? Neither of us had any power in those situations. We were just surviving the best we could.”

  “You were my responsibility. You still are. I fucked up your entire childhood, and now—how could I not have known about you and Dex? I didn’t realize my head was so far up my ass, but I missed all of the signs. Or maybe I saw them and blew them off. Maybe I didn’t want it to be true because then you wouldn’t need me around.”

  “We were careful not to let people know,” he cut in, but Will kept going.

  “And your lodge? I didn’t even know you were unhappy with me, or with the club.” He moved to take a drink, then looked at the tumbler as if it had betrayed him by being empty. Gently, he placed the glass on the edge of Grant’s desk, as though not trusting himself not to slam it down and break it.

  “My whole life has changed too,” Grant pointed out, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands on top of his head. “You have a wife and a kid now. You don’t need me underfoot here and then at home too. Juliet helps you host here at the club, and she keeps you company at home. I need to have a life outside of you. I need to have aspirations separate from yours. Sometimes I get tired of the city, too, and I thought this would give me something of my own that wouldn’t take us completely out of each other’s lives. It gives both of us space.”

  “You’re never underfoot, and I don’t need space,” Will said, his voice strained. “You’re my brother. You’re my best friend.”

  Grant bit the inside of his cheek, angry at how emotional this was making him. He always chose to laugh about things rather than dwell on them, but it felt like he’d spent the last two weeks on some sort of cathartic binge. What was next? Was their father to walk in the door for a heart-to-heart? Their sister, Charlotte? Maybe even their mother?

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? I pour my heart out to you like an idiot and all you can say is okay?”

  “Well, you’re my best friend, too, but I really don’t want to make a habit of this talking about our feelings stuff, even if I do love you. It gives me the willies.”

  Will laughed, his face lighting up with an incredulous grin. “You are, without a doubt, the biggest asshole I know.”

  “I learned from the best.”

  Will’s throat worked as if he was trying to swallow a lump of something foul. “Fine, have your island, but you’d better come back to me every fall or I’m coming to get you.”

  “Unless I’m there alone with Arabella, you have a standing invitation to drop by anytime you like.”

  Will rubbed his forehead and frowned, looking weary.

  Grant thought about hugging him, but chickened out.

  “I guess I’ll have to get directions from you,” Will finally said, “or a map. Canada is up, right?”

  * * *

  * * *

  Impatiently, Grant paced the edge of the main dock under the sign that read Wild. The name of the place had been Arabella’s idea, after he’d refused her other suggestions, The Refuge, The Nunnery, and Grant’s Magnificent Island of Nefarious Debauchery. The latter she had decided against herself, saying it would be a pain in the ass to fit that much text on business cards.

  The necklace in his pocket felt like it was burning his leg just from the focus of his thoughts. He’d bought it before leaving the city the last time he’d gone home, and had been walking around with it in his pocket ever since, wondering if he’d ever get the opportunity to present it to her. Choosing the right moment would be imperative. He got the impression she was caving to the idea of wearing his collar, but if it was something he brought up at the wrong moment he was afraid it would spook her. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off now when everything was going so well.

  At least, things had been going well the last time they’d seen each other. That had been weeks ago and he was looking forward to finally having a few days with her. Talking online just wasn’t the same.

  Just as Arabella had predicted, she’d been busy since they’d gotten home from their initial trip. He was glad for her that her business was thriving—he’d never been interested in getting involved with a woman who made him the center of her life—but it would be nice if she could spare the time to visit more. It was his own fault for choosing a project so far away, but their relationship hadn’t seemed very likely when he’d bought the island.

  It was fine. They were fine.

  Right?

  His stomach twisted with nervous anticipation as he waited.

  Was she feeling the same way? Or maybe she was flying in to break things off in person. The wondering had been making him squirrelly.

  He heard the hum long before he saw the small plane approach, the sound reminding him of the ongoing Dread Queen of Mosquitoes legend Arabella had made up and was gradually adding to. The sound of the Twin Otter plane felt like part of his bones now.

  After hobbling along with a skeleton crew for the first few weeks, he now had a full staff, which meant that when she visited he wouldn’t be stuck running errands, doing odd jobs, or helping in the kitchen. The first few groups of guests had come and gone, the figurative bugs were being worked out of their operating procedures, and he could feel that it wouldn’t take long to turn a profit. Guests were happy. Guests were booking return trips for next year—and a few planned to come again this year if there were any cancellations they could squeeze into.

  It surprised him more than anyone how many wealthy kinksters were willing to spend their money at a private resort in the middle of the wilderness in northern Canada. Will had even come out once with Juliet and the baby on a week of downtime Grant had booked to get work done around the place. This week would be a mix of friends from Catacombs and some other guests his booking agent had arranged. The agent had told him she was already booking well into next summer, despite the fact that there was no knowing what the weather would be like or when the ice would be off the lake.

  The plane came into view, and he watched with trepidation as it made its approach. He’d never thought much about planes and safety until Arabella had to use one to visit him. It helped that Tarka was flying her in—he trusted the man more than the other pilots, who seemed nice enough, but were strangers. How was he supposed to know if they were prone to drinking before flights or whatever? Tak was responsible.

  He held his breath as the aircraft landed in the water, but it alighted without issue and he exhaled in relief.

  “Your woman is finally here?” Luc asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll hold down
the fort until you come up for air,” he teased. The French Canadian economics professor was now his right-hand man. The guy was quick-witted and charming, and happy to live on the island for free while university was out. Since he was single and in his midthirties, a lot of the single female submissives that came out tried to win him over, but his last breakup was recent enough that he wasn’t looking for anyone yet.

  Or so he said.

  Since Grant had only hired him a few weeks before, he hadn’t met Arabella yet. Maybe he should have left the guy back at the lodge in case she took a shine to him.

  It was funny how time apart could make a man jealous and unreasonable. He felt the need to mark her as his somehow, but wasn’t sure even tattooing his face on her forehead would be enough for him when they were going to be away from each other for such long stretches.

  His own fault, of course, but still.

  Impatiently, he waited for the plane to dock, hating every moment of their time together being wasted by Tarka parking the damned thing. The jerk was probably dragging the process out just to frustrate Grant.

  When Arabella finally descended from the plane, she was wearing jeans and an oversized T-shirt, Doc Martens, and a baseball cap—for all the world looking like someone had dragged their twelve-year-old brother along to a kink retreat. Typical.

  Grant realized he was grinning like a fool just as their gazes met.

  “Master!”

  Before he could even take a step forward, she ran down the dock to him full tilt. He braced himself when she didn’t slow, and sure enough she launched herself at him, leaping into his arms and wrapping herself around him like a koala on a tree. She kissed him fiercely, her cap’s brim catching him in the forehead in the process, knocking the hat to the ground.

  Her mouth was hot and demanding. Within moments he was hard and ready for her. Dimly, he realized Luc was welcoming the guests on his behalf. He appreciated that the guy was quick on the uptake.

  Eventually, she let go of him and he allowed her to slide down his body to her feet. She grinned up at him, her eyes shining with excitement.

  “It’s funny how I talk to you every day and yet it’s not the same as seeing you. I know everything you ate for dinner yesterday, but I almost forgot about the chicken pox scar on your temple and I’m very disappointed with myself.” Her exuberance spread warmth through his chest. He couldn’t remember anyone ever being as excited to see him as he was to see them, and the fact that it was Arabella, with her mischievous grin and flashing dark eyes, made it all the sweeter.

  Grant had caught sight of Tarka walking up behind Arabella, and their friend made a gagging noise.

  “Love is so fucking obnoxious.”

  Arabella amiably flipped Tak off as he blew Grant a kiss, then went back to mooring the plane. Luc loaded Grant’s guests on the tour cart and drove them up the path.

  “I think we missed our ride,” she said, laughing.

  “I told him to go on without us. I wanted to have you to myself for a few minutes.”

  “Ugh. More walking? That’s what I get for banging an outdoorsy guy. Just don’t chase me around the island this time. I don’t do cardio that isn’t sex.”

  “Well then, you better not have been doing any cardio for the past few weeks.”

  “On my own a few times, but not in a class at the Y or anything.” She winked at him, and he smacked her ass. She rounded on him and shook her finger in admonishment. “If you didn’t want a brat you shouldn’t have picked a brat.”

  “Like I had any choice in the matter?”

  “Nah, not really. I ran you to the ground like a gazelle. Poor, frightened little thing.” She reached up and patted his face in consolation.

  “I can see all the time away from me wasn’t spent reflecting on how to be a better submissive.”

  “Oh, but it was. I even did those writing assignments you gave me.”

  “Did you?” he asked, knowing better than to believe her.

  “Absolutely! My notebook is in my duffel bag, which sadly has gone on without us. I’ll show it to you later.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, I think it’s in my duffel bag. I might have forgotten it at home.” She batted her eyelashes at him in mock innocence. “I forgot my homework at home, headmaster, are you to make me sit alone in the corner and wear a dunce cap?”

  “I’m sure I can think of something less pleasant.”

  She sighed dramatically and swept her hat off the ground, dusting it off before shoving it back on her head. At that point he realized her hat read, BEHAVING IS A HARD LIMIT.

  Arching a brow, he tapped the brim of her hat. “Yes, I can see you’ve turned over a new leaf.”

  “Admit it—you’ve been daydreaming about punishing my naughty ass since you left town. I’d hate to disappoint.”

  “You do realize I can dominate you without you giving me a reason to punish you.”

  “Me bratting is good for your brain function as you age,” she said solemnly. “I’m only thinking of you.”

  “I’m only two years older than you, brat.”

  “Well then, I’m thinking of keeping things fresh for us as a couple.” She smirked and he had to force down a laugh. “Sometimes it’s hard doing all of the work in this relationship.”

  Without another word, he grabbed her wrist and dragged his giggling slave off into the trees, fully intending to fuck her into submission.

  “What are you doing?” Tousled, Arabella sat up in bed, the sheet pooling around her waist to reveal her small breasts and deliciously pierced nipples. Even though they’d been in bed more often than not for the last two days, Grant was tempted to crawl back in there with her.

  “More guests are coming this morning and I need to go greet them. Luc has been doing my job for almost forty-eight hours, and I really don’t pay him enough to take care of the place the whole time you’re here, unfortunately.”

  She pouted at him adorably, her blue and purple hair sticking up in all directions, making her look for all the world like a naughty fairy or mermaid. The bite mark bruise he’d left on her right breast matched her hair.

  “I took time off work to come visit you in the middle of my busy season, and all I’m going to get from you is the dregs of your time?” she teased. They were both busy all summer, and that meant that every moment together they could manage was precious.

  As much as his new venture was successful and satisfying beyond what he’d ever imagined, he was also looking forward to the end of the season. She had been making not so subtle “jokes” about him moving in with her when he came home. Honestly, the only reason he hadn’t agreed yet was because he was waiting for her to cave to his demand for two dogs, rather than one. After all, he had compromised on her putting in a pool house for him to live in, so he definitely deserved two dogs.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms, loving how she melted against him. She felt so right skin against skin that it was always a huge disappointment to let go.

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “Oh, I always want you to come, pretty slave. That tight little cunt of yours is always so willing to oblige me.” He winked at her, and she actually blushed. Considering she wasn’t a kink debutante, it was funny to him that he could still embarrass her once in a while if he caught her off guard.

  “Yes, I’m a very obedient slave, especially considering the fact that you haven’t collared me. There I am at home wandering around like no one owns me, doing whatever I want. I should really start taking videos of me bratting and uploading them to YouTube. I’ll call my YouTube channel “The Misadventures of an Uncollared Slave While Her Master Is Living on a Remote Island in Canada.”

  “Your business cards are going to have to come with magnifying glasses so people can read the tiny font,” he managed to reply, his mind racing. Was that
a serious hint that she was ready? The collar he’d bought her was tucked away, and he still wasn’t sure offering it to her was the right thing to do.

  She shrugged. “Not my problem. I’m allowed to run amok.”

  Apparently he’d failed at fucking her into submission long term. Every time she slept, she woke up ready for trouble.

  He fucking loved it.

  After giving her ass a playful smack, he kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her. She was so perfect—so lovely. So clever and so funny. He claimed her lips then and fell back on the bed with her, then kissed her some more until her breathless giggles became moans of desire.

  “Didn’t you say you had to go?” she asked as she broke away from their kiss. He blinked at her, his brain taking a moment to register what she’d said. She had the terrible effect of erasing his memory sometimes, or making him not care if he ignored responsibilities. Unfortunately, she was one of those diligent people who wouldn’t let him be a slacker even when it would give her what she wanted.

  He groaned and dragged himself off the bed.

  “Fine. I see how it is. You got what you wanted from me, and now you just want to nap.”

  “I really need to shower off some of my Master’s spunk before I try to be social.”

  “Fine, but later tonight you’ll have to pay up.”

  “Oh? And what am I paying with this time?”

  “I’ll think of something, I’m sure.”

  “Will I like it?”

  “Probably not, but you have a safeword.”

  “Pumpernickel? Eyeball?”

  He kissed her long and hard. “Nope. You’d better work on remembering it. You only have a few hours.”

  As he opened the door to leave, she called after him, “Beaver? Blow job? Agamemnon?”

  “Try those and see if they work. Maybe I should just keep changing your safeword and not telling you what it is until you guess correctly,” he teased.

  There was a deep chuckle from outside the door, and Grant turned to see Luc standing in the hall. Grant gave Arabella a pointed look and shut the door behind him before Luc got an eyeful.