Master of the Abyss

by Cherise Sinclair

  A sound escaped her, and the sun lines at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile. “Yes. Like that.”

  God, he made her feel helpless. And yet, his control filled a…a need inside her that she hadn’t realized was there, a longing to be treated like this.

  He stroked her, petting her like a cat; then turned his hand over and rubbed his knuckles over her pebbling nipples. “Did being restrained bother you?”

  He waited for his answer, and she realized his patience was something else she wasn’t used to, his total focus on her. He watched her so closely, her eyes, her face, noticing every time she tensed or took a breath. It made her feel…special…and somehow exposed also.

  “Kallie. I asked you a question.”

  He wouldn’t permit secrets, she realized uneasily. But she didn’t have secrets, really, so… “Bother me? No.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I liked…knowing I didn’t have the reins. Sometimes during sex, I feel like I have to decide what happens, how far to go, all that. You didn’t give me any control at all.”

  He nodded, unsurprised by her answer.

  “Did you enjoy your spanking?” He slid his hand under her bottom, and the unexpected pain from her tender skin made her squeak and try to lift her hips away. He grinned. “A little sore, pet?”

  She glared at him. The skin there still felt hot and swollen, and his abrasive fingers didn’t help any. “No, of course not.”

  He squeezed and made her yelp. “Now try again, and be honest.”

  “Damn you.”

  His second squeeze was just plain mean. “Ow!” And she could feel herself getting wetter, not just from the pain, but from the way he made her bend to his will. The world shifted around her like she’d strayed off the trail into an unfamiliar forest.

  “Kallie?”

  “The spanking hurt…and it made…made me come harder.” And part of that had been because he’d controlled her, that he could make her take the pain.

  “Better.” He brushed a kiss over her lips, whispered low, “Next time I’ll use a paddle.”

  The flush of heat that went through her worried the hell out of her. She tilted her head. “Next time? I thought…”

  “One night only. But the night’s not over yet.”

  Chapter Three

  Jake hadn’t called.

  Kallie slid out of her Jeep and slammed the heavy door shut, letting the loud bang express her feelings on the subject. That asshole bastard rat fink. She’d been so sure that he would call her—that there had been something between them.

  So little she knew. Obviously. No word from him in the last five days. She shoved her sweat-dampened hair off her forehead. Wonderful damned day, wasn’t it? It’s dry air, people would say, like dry helped when the temperature soared over ninety degrees. The heat wasn’t helping her simmering mood. Or her desire to wallop someone named Jake. He was such a… Okay, be fair. He’d told her “one night only.” Repeated it, even.

  But still…

  Morgan had visited Serenity Lodge yesterday, and Jake hadn’t asked about her. Now Morgan wondered why Kallie had asked if he had. Gah! I might as well be back in high school. As Kallie stalked into the small grocery store, she barely kept from slamming that door too.

  At least Logan hadn’t discussed any details about Friday night with Morgan or Wyatt. He’d simply said she seemed comfortable enough with his guests’ activities. Since she’d reported the same, her cousins had accepted the matter. After all, they sure wouldn’t ask her for descriptions of anything related to sex.

  She stopped inside the door and picked up a basket. Behind the counter, the owner, David Whipple, was going over paperwork with a redheaded delivery guy, who smiled at her.

  David asked, “How are you, Kallie?”

  “Just dandy.” Wyatt had stocked the kitchen as per the bargain, and for, oh, at least the first two days, she’d thought she had the better of that deal. No shopping or cleaning for a week, and she’d enjoyed the best, most exciting sexual adventure of her very limited life. With Jake, of all people. As her breasts tingled, she mentally shoved that memory into the toilet…and flushed.

  Turning her attention to her errand, she studied the shelves of crackers and cookies and chips. A sack of potato chips went into her basket. Sour cream dip from the refrigerated section.

  She said hi to Mrs. Jenkins and smiled at the small dog perched in the child seat. Looking like a furball that had encountered a light socket, the Pomeranian gave a series of shrill yaps, then panted with exhaustion. Yeah, she remembered panting just like that at the lodge.

  After consideration, Kallie added two bottles of Sierra Nevada Stout from the beer fridge. Only two, just for her. All three of her best friends had dated Jake, and although they tended to share almost everything, she’d never confessed to having the hots for the man since she’d first seen him in town. All long legs and broad shoulders, that hard, rough-cut face, the cleft in his chin, and eyes the color of a mountain lake. And don’t forget his large, competent hands. Oh, she remembered how those hands had slapped her bottom, stroked her pussy, pushed her down onto her hands and knees and… Well. She let out a slow breath. She sure wouldn’t be sharing details with Serena or Gina. Nope.

  So with no friends to line up on her side and call him the appropriate names, she had to hold a pity party all by herself. She studied the contents of her basket. Almost all the essential food groups: salt, alcohol, grease. Missing sugar and chocolate.

  Obviously she needed Ben and Jerry’s contribution to the ice cream world: chocolate fudge brownie. She dropped in the small container, hesitated, and added another. The chances that she’d feel better by tomorrow were slim. Real slim. Holy crapola, but she’d been stupid.

  Setting the basket on the counter, she managed a smile for David.

  He beamed at her. A bit short of six feet and stocky, he’d filled out a lot since high school, probably from hefting groceries around. She hadn’t really known him then; he’d been in the geeky crowd, and she’d hung out with the jocks, playing soccer and baseball.

  Not basketball, unfortunately. When all the other kids passed her in height, she’d discovered that, no matter how fast she was, genetics ruled on the basketball court. Life really sucked sometimes.

  “That’ll do it, Andrew.” David signed the electronic device for the delivery guy. “You joining us next week for poker?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  As the man walked away, David glanced into Kallie’s basket and gave her an odd look. What, people didn’t normally fill a basket with junk food? He took the beer out and rang it up. “I enjoyed our date last month.”

  “Yeah, I did too,” she said. They’d gone out for dinner and a movie. He was a nice man. Certainly a lot nicer than Jake. But not—

  “Are you available this week?”

  She hesitated, thinking over her schedule. The weekend was out, since she’d invited Rebecca to join her friends at the ClaimJumper on Saturday. On Sunday, she had a women’s group booked for an overnight on Little Bear Mountain.

  Earlier in the week was possible, but going out didn’t sound particularly appealing. I want Jake.

  As if she’d called him, she glimpsed him crossing the street, shoulder to shoulder with Logan. Big guys. She’d heard they were ex-military, and despite their casual stride, the two men gave as deadly an impression as the Earps heading for the OK Corral.

  And oh, could this day get any better? They came into the grocery.

  Jake saw her. His gait hitched, and the laughter faded from his face. He said, “Morning, Kallie,” his voice as polite as if she were…a tourist. As if he’d never kissed her or been inside her or sucked on her breasts. Obviously he’d meant that “one night only.” The bastard.

  After a quick frown at Jake, Logan smiled at her. “Good morning, sugar.”

  The annoying lump inside Kallie’s chest made it hard to speak, but damned if she’d show how much Jake’s attitude hurt. “Hey, guys.”
>
  When the men had entered the store, David’s face had gone expressionless, almost a match for Jake’s. The grocer greeted Logan and continued ringing up her snacks. “So what about Thursday night?” he asked her. “Mike’s having a barbecue that night.”

  Kallie’s attention, despite her efforts, drifted back to the Hunts. While Logan checked over a list on notepaper, Jake was studying her pile of groceries on the counter. A frown creased his brow and lined his scar. His intense blue gaze moved to her.

  Surely he didn’t know what chocolate ice cream meant. As her face heated, she turned her back. You are nothing to me. “I’d love to go out, David. What time?”

  * * *

  In a filthy mood, Jake carried two grocery sacks through the lodge’s back door into the kitchen and thumped them down on the counter.

  “Just in time for supper.” Rebecca opened the refrigerator and started unloading a bag. “I’m going to make chocolate cake tomorrow. Did you remember to get ice cream?”

  “I think so.” Hopefully. He didn’t remember picking up a carton.

  “I’d love to go out, David.” He scowled at the memory of Kallie’s low voice, of the victorious smirk that Whipple had given him. Bastard. Jake headed back out, passing Logan on the way in.

  Get over it. She not only had a right to date, but he wanted her to. He had welcomed the fact that she hadn’t gotten hung up on him and hadn’t expected anything after their night together. As he stepped off the porch, the heat sent a trickle of sweat down his back. Kallie had been sweating by the second time he’d taken her. He’d licked between her tiny breasts, tasting the salt on her skin, and then pushed her knees up. She’d been so wet by then that he’d entered her snug little pussy with one thrust.

  A hard shove made Jake stumble. “We’ve got more groceries,” Logan said. “You planning to stand there all day?”

  “Right.” Jake moved forward, shaking his head, as if that would dislodge the memories. Hadn’t yet. And now he had a serving of guilt to join them, because he couldn’t lie to himself. Maybe she would date that asshole Whipple, but Jake had seen what was in her grocery basket: chocolate ice cream. Chips and dip. Hell.

  When Mimi had been sad, she’d cried. A simple solution. But he’d lived with enough women to learn the other remedies females used to feel better. Whereas an unhappy man might get roaring drunk, a woman would curl up with a bowl of ice cream. Or chips.

  Kallie’s basket had contained both. It didn’t take a leap of logic to figure he was the cause. The look she’d given him as he entered the store had held pain, then anger. The stiffness of her shoulders when she’d turned her back said he’d hurt her pride as well. But although she’d been hurting, she hadn’t yelled, been rude, or cried. He admired that—she was a strong woman. No surprise there.

  He sighed and hefted the forty pound sack of dog food onto his shoulder.

  What he hadn’t known was how Little Miss Macho could turn so fucking female. He shouldn’t ever have played with her…because it had become more than play. The way she’d submitted, warily at first, and then, as her defenses lowered and her trust grew, with a stunned wonder that had left him humbled. And the way she’d welcomed him into her body—with such joy—had played hell with his control.

  “Jake. Bro. Take the dog food in the house.”

  Jake focused, saw Logan’s exasperated face. “Right. Doing just that.”

  It was good that she’d moved on.

  Jake entered the kitchen, opened the plastic bin where Thor’s kibble was stored. Good that she was going out with Whipple. He was relieved—happy—to know she wasn’t pining over him.

  Logan punched his shoulder. Hard. “Jake. Pour the damned food into the bin.”

  * * *

  Kallie pulled the scrub pad out of the mouth of the oversize wooden frog and patted its green nose. After returning from Alaska two years ago, she’d whittled the figure out of basswood and carved its bushy eyebrows and beard to match Uncle Harvey’s. When he’d seen it, his roaring laugh had shaken the windows. I miss you, Uncle.

  As she soaped up the pad, she wrinkled her nose at the mess in front of her. Seems like no matter how many bargains a girl made, she still ended up doing the dishes. Her “I’m so macho” cousins only washed dishes on their kitchen-duty day and could be oblivious to any putrid stench between times. Did testosterone kill the sense of smell?

  After stepping around Mufasa—like any self-respecting cat, he’d commandeered the center of the tile floor—she unloaded the dishwasher and filled it again with food-encrusted bowls and plates.

  Maybe she should dump the plates in her cousins’ beds. Would they take a hint?

  She grinned. But when she imagined the guys’ reactions, her amusement disappeared, and the icy spot lurking in a corner of her heart pulsed painfully as if in warning. These weren’t her dishes, after all; this wasn’t her house. Not really.

  She was just the poor relation Uncle Harvey had taken in after Aunt Teresa had dumped her. After everyone had dumped her. She never forgot her place. Ever.

  She swiped at a dried spot of tomato sauce. Maybe she went a little overboard in being careful—okay, maybe she’d gotten a bit hung up on the idea—but she knew how quickly someone could turn off the love faucet. Her mom had loved her, but she’d died when Kallie was eight. Not fair, so totally not fair to lose your mommy, Kallie thought, scrubbing the counter until the pad started to fray.

  Two years later, her stepfather had shoved her off on Aunt Penny. At least he’d told her why: “I’m getting married, and Annabelle already has two children.”

  She was twelve when Aunt Penny shipped her off to Teresa. That time, she received no explanation other than, “I’m sorry, Kallie, but we can’t keep you here any longer.”

  She’d cried herself to sleep for a month after leaving Penny, but eventually the fun and bustling activity in Aunt Teresa’s home had drawn her in. And then a couple of years later, Uncle Pete and Teresa gave her a little vacation to visit Uncle Harvey, and put her on a plane to the West Coast. They hadn’t taken her back.

  It still hurt, dammit. Kallie drizzled soap into a frying pan. And she’d suffered through the transition. From a city home filled with younger cousins and an affectionate, bubbling aunt to a wilderness cabin with three older cousins and her giant-sized uncle. They’d terrified her.

  This place had been her last hope. If the Mastersons didn’t like her, she’d have had nowhere else to go. Maybe if she’d known what she had done to get kicked out of the other homes…

  Poor Uncle Harvey and poor Morgan and Wyatt and Virgil, having a teenage girl dropped into their lives. She’d spared them her tears; she’d already learned that crying didn’t help. But she was the quietest, sweetest mouse they’d ever seen, at least until she’d figured out what they wanted. Her cousins didn’t know what to do with a girl cousin, so she’d turned herself into one of the boys. Kallie smiled at the memories. They’d treated her like a little brother, coaching her on how to backpack, fight, shoot.

  Being tough suited her.

  If only she could break them of the overprotective crap. Sometimes they acted as if she were a fragile little girl or something. It was a wonder she hadn’t developed a split personality.

  Losing Uncle Harvey last year had been…bad. He’d loved her; she was sure that he’d loved her. When she had returned to Bear Flat after working in Alaska, he’d cheered so loudly the town must have heard him.

  She’d missed him too, missed them all, but she’d forced herself to get a college degree and some experience before joining the Masterson guide business. Moving away had been incredibly difficult. At least she’d gone to a college close enough to drive back frequently. But Alaska… She’d deliberately accepted the distant job so she couldn’t run home, but damn, she’d felt so empty without her cousins and uncle. She’d missed the noisy meals, the arguing and teasing, the bossing her around and laughing when she tried to reciprocate.

  So although sometimes she thought
about moving out again—she wrinkled her nose at the dirty dishes—the independence she’d gain wouldn’t be worth what she’d lose. The others must feel the same, since they’d also returned. Or maybe they were just lazy. With the livestock and erratic schedules, it was easier for everyone to live here.

  Good thing her uncle had built a huge house. Whenever one of them had turned eighteen, Harvey added on to the cabin, and eventually each bedroom had transformed into a mini-apartment. It had been the sneaky old man’s way of keeping his children around.

  She stared at the brick-colored wall. What would she do when the guys started getting married?

  The ringing of the phone saved her from the dismal thought, and she hurried into the dining room to answer it. The noise stopped, so Wyatt must have picked it up. As she stacked the dishes left on the table, she heard him say, “I don’t know, Logan. Morgan and I are booked on Tuesday. Kallie is too.” She stepped into the office.