Master of the Abyss

by Cherise Sinclair

  Kallie bit her lip at the pang of loss. After the Fourth, Wyatt and Morgan had watched her as intently as Mufasa guarded a gopher hole. They’d tried to entice her into poker games, fishing at the creek, even chick flicks—doing everything possible to keep her occupied. They needn’t have wasted their time, considering Jake hadn’t called. Her two cousins eased up when they decided Jake’s interest in her had died.

  Apparently they were right. Why would he want someone who told him to go away? The man could have anyone he wanted, after all. She’d spent most of last night fighting back tears because of him, and dammit, she never cried. She kept wondering what else she might have done, how she might have managed to see him without upsetting her cousins.

  If Jake had really wanted her for more than sex—if he’d wanted to date her—would she have told Wyatt and Morgan to stuff it? Maybe. And yet the thought of disappointing her cousins or having them pull away wrung her insides until her stomach went queasy.

  She sighed. She wished to see Jake so badly, to hear his rough voice and snuggle against his side. She gave a short laugh, knowing she definitely wanted more than just sex from him. Even if he’d been in a wheelchair, he’d attract her with his honesty, with that idiotic bravery that had him jumping into a flooding river to save an old drunk, with his ability to talk with anyone. How he’d wholeheartedly played the game on the Fourth, then enjoyed teasing the children afterward.

  Damn him for being someone she wanted in her life, and for not wanting her back.

  So she didn’t really have any decision to make, did she? She brushed the dirt off her jeans and went to check on the children. While Ryan and Tamara raced twigs down the stream, Cody pored over a field guide, trying to identify the tiny wildflowers. Lots to keep a guide busy and not thinking about “might have beens.”

  * * *

  Jake stopped at the edge of the meadow. There she is. His chest constricted as he watched Kallie play with the Lowery children. Had he ever known anyone so beautiful? So full of energy?

  He rubbed his face, trying to forget the body of the young woman they’d found yesterday, the way her open eyes had stared, seeing nothing.

  But Kallie was alive—in fact, she seemed more alive than anyone he’d ever met. He smiled as she teased the two boys, then picked up the little girl and turned her upside down. His muscles eased as he listened to the giggles turn into delighted shrieks when Kallie slung the child over her shoulder. Strong little sub and so vibrant she seemed to glow.

  He needed to hold her.

  After returning from the search yesterday, he’d felt eviscerated. A quiet evening talking with Logan and Becca hadn’t helped. The silence in his rooms had only increased the feeling that he’d turned to ice all the way to his bones.

  Watching Kallie now was like stepping into the sunlight after sleeping in the snow. So much for his intent to stay away.

  Jake shook his head. He should be at the lodge, doing his job, but he’d needed to see Kallie. To touch her and hear her laugh and watch her dark eyes turn soft when he kissed her. He’d had women, had loved before—bright, enjoyable loves—but he’d never had this…need…before, as if a part of him had gone missing.

  Logan had grumbled about taking Jake’s place escorting a vanload of guests to Yosemite. But Rebecca had told Jake, “I like Kallie. And you need… Well, I think joining Kallie is a wonderful idea.” She’d kissed his cheek—soft woman, soft heart; Logan was a lucky man—and said, “You’ve beat yourself up long enough. Move on, Jake.”

  She hadn’t meant the search-and-rescue trip; she’d meant Mimi. But he couldn’t deal with that now.

  He smiled when Kallie shooed the children back to their games and picked up a towel from the grass. Probably heading toward the lower falls. Jake debated following her. No, he’d best be polite and let the Lowerys know of his arrival. He crossed the meadow and detoured to pet the old horse cropping grass in the shade.

  “Hey, it’s Jake!” Tamara gave a shriek like a miniature cougar and ran to him, splashing through the stream. Little brown-haired imp. Kallie had undoubtedly looked like that as a child and had probably had the same energy level too. He swung the munchkin up with a laugh, tucked her under his arm football-style, and carried her to her parents.

  “I was in the area and thought I’d drop in,” he said. “Help Kallie with setting up and cooking.”

  From the smiles they exchanged, he hadn’t fooled them with that excuse. Either he was more obvious than he’d thought, or they noticed he had only a daypack and no tent. Mark grinned and pointed downstream. “She was planning to wash up.”

  Wash up… Bending over, splashing her face with water. He could almost see how she’d have her ass up in the air. He remembered how it felt to hold her hips and drive into her heat. Bury himself deep and take his pleasure.

  Hell, now he’d grown hard as a rock. He shook his head. “Be good parents and keep your children here.”

  As Mark laughed, Laura snickered and said, “We can do that. Have a nice time, dear.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  * * *

  Enjoying the peace, Kallie stripped and dunked in the stream. Such cold water. Goose bumps formed on her skin, and her nipples peaked. With a happy sigh, she settled onto the seductively warm, flat granite to sunbathe. Overhead the sky was a clear, blue bowl. Bees buzzed happily, and a dragonfly flitted at the edge of the water. Legs stretched out in front of her, she leaned on her hands as water trickled from her wet hair down her back.

  A rustling sound came from the trees a few feet away. She lunged for her clothing…and Jake stepped out of the forest.

  Jake. Her heart did a somersault. A painful one. He’s here. Here, here, here.

  So tall and lean. His shoulders military straight. His prowling gait said, Attack me and I’ll kill you. Until then, I’m going to enjoy myself. In faded jeans, hiking boots, and a white T-shirt that set off his darkly tanned skin and curved over every muscle, he looked like sex on the hoof.

  Her body woke as if someone had plugged her into an electric socket.

  He spotted her, and his smile blazed in his face. “Well, what have we here?” As his easy gait changed to a stalk, the fire in his gaze made her insides melt.

  She took a step back, not exactly sure why, but hell, she wasn’t dressed…at all.

  “I planned to sit and discuss your concerns first. But then I saw you.” As he stopped in front of her, the sun lines at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile. “Do you realize you’re naked?”

  “Um. Yeah?”

  He took her hand and set it on the thick bulge in his jeans. “Talking can wait.”

  He only wants me for sex. That’s all. Well, maybe that was enough, she thought, although her heart squeezed in disagreement.

  His brows drew together as his eyes narrowed. “Then again, perhaps we should talk.”

  Like that would settle anything? He had his rules and wouldn’t change them. So maybe she’d make a few of her own. Yeah. Like they’d have a clandestine affair, never be seen in public together. Very James Bondish. Her laugh almost sounded natural. “We’ll talk later.”

  The feeling of his thick cock under her hand set up an irresistible longing to have him inside her. She started to undo his belt and hesitated, a concern pushing through the heat searing the air around her. “Children, there’s—”

  “Laura will keep them close.” He tilted her chin up, and the scrape of his fingers seemed to sandpaper every nerve on her body.

  “Okay, then—”

  His scowl stopped her cold. “We’re going to discuss the battle on Independence Day. My British army shouldn’t have lost. We had more soldiers. Better soldiers.” He frowned and shook his head. “No, the only way we could have lost was if someone poisoned my troops.”

  “What?” Weren’t we just thinking about sex a minute ago?

  “You’re a Yank. High in their councils. You must know what was done to my men.” His fingers tightened. “And I will discover e
verything you know, little spy.”

  “But—”Spy? Apprehension mingled with excitement as she remembered his threat from the Fourth: “You’d best be careful, soldier. If I capture you, I’ll be forced to conduct an interrogation. There are many, many ways to make an enemy talk, and I know them all.”

  “You will speak only to answer my questions. Do you understand?”

  Her mouth went dry. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Very pretty.” He curved his hand around her throat, not cutting off her air, but the sensation, the knowledge that he could, and the way her body surrendered sent a bone-shaking tremor through her. As he studied her, his fingertips rested lightly over her hammering pulse. “I might enjoy this questioning.” He paused, and his voice hardened. “You might not. What is your name?”

  “Kalinda Masterson, Sir.” Her voice came out as only a whisper, and his cheek creased.

  “Such a fast little pulse. By the time I’m through, it will be so loud the deer will flee.” He turned his hand over, and his knuckles teased her bunched nipples.

  A flush warmed her skin all the way to her scalp. “You’re still dressed.”

  “Did you have permission to speak?” His soft voice didn’t conceal the edge, and she could feel herself getting wetter.

  She shook her head. “No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

  He walked behind her and wrapped something—smooth like vinyl—around her left wrist, then the right, securing her hands behind her. “There. That should keep you in place while I ask my questions. Answer carefully, spy.” He ran his hand lightly over her hip and whispered in her ear, “I’d hate to mar this pretty skin.”

  When he squeezed her bottom, a shiver ran through her. He wouldn’t. But her certainty kept fading with everything he did.

  Returning to stand in front of her, he stared down at her, his gaze unfamiliar, colder than ice. “Where were you born?”

  “Washington DC.”

  “Ah. Right at the heart of our country. I might have known.” He threaded his hand in her hair and yanked her head back. His face next to hers, he growled, “What secrets did you learn there?”

  “I…” She knew it was a game, but it didn’t seem to alleviate the helpless feeling growing in her. “I didn’t.”

  “Wrong answer, little spy. You’ll regret that.” He pulled something from his pocket. Setting an arm behind her waist, he bowed her back and took her nipple into his mouth. And he sucked, oh, God, he sucked so powerfully she felt a whirlpool pulling her down to the bottom of a river. Apparently satisfied with how far her nipple jutted out, he fastened something on the swollen peak.

  Tiny teeth bit into her areola and didn’t release. “Ow!”

  “Did I give you permission to speak?”

  The nipple clamp pinched, sent throbbing aches through her, and somehow made her pussy pulse in unison. Her other breast swelled as if to complain as well.

  And Jake bent and sucked on that breast. Her knees wobbled, and a humiliating whimper escaped. When he put on the second clamp, her legs buckled. She tried to grab him to keep from falling but couldn’t move her arms. He locked his arm around her, holding her up as easily as if she weighed less than a doll.

  She stared down at the clothespin-appearing silver clamps.

  When she looked up, his eyes were intent on her face, studying her expression. “Do they hurt?”

  “Yes.” She stopped, confused. The pain felt…hot. Made everything more sensitive. “No.”

  The crease of a half smile appeared in his cheek. “Very good.” As her nipples burned with a mixture of arousal and pain, he paced in a circle around her, hands behind his back. “We’ve searched the men delivering supplies to our camps, but never suspected women might be involved. Your countrymen are barbarians”—he gave a disgusted grunt—“and now you will be the one to suffer for it, not them. Kalinda Masterson, tell me where you have hidden the poison.”

  Her brain had trouble moving past the “suffer.” “But…there is no poison.”

  His face turned hard. “You’re lying.”

  A jolt of anxiety shot through her…even as her arousal deepened.

  He strode over to a fir and broke off a branch. As he walked back, he stripped it, leaving only a whippy stick just over a foot long.

  She eyed it warily, her heart rate increasing.

  His cold gaze ran up and down her body. “I need to search you.”

  “B-but I’m naked.”

  Standing at her side, he tapped the stick against her mound. “Open for me.”

  No way. She wasn’t going to—

  He swatted her butt with the stick, hard enough for a nasty sting.

  “Hey!”

  “That was just a warning, Yankee spy.” He repeated again, “Open for me.”

  She glared at him, and he hit her other butt cheek. Harder. The burn sizzled across her skin straight to her clit. It hurt, dammit, and how the hell could that make her want his touch so badly that she shook with it?

  “Open your legs, Miss Masterson.”

  Gritting her teeth against the embarrassment, she moved her legs apart. The air felt warm against her thighs, yet oddly cool on her overheated pussy.

  “Very good.” To her relief—mostly relief—he slipped the cane under his belt. He clamped a hand around her upper arm in a cruel grip, and then reached down between her spread thighs to touch her intimately. “You are very wet. Appears you enjoy a bit of pain, little spy.”

  His merciless grip kept her from moving away from the slow, slick slide of his fingers over her labia. Oh God. Each brush against her clit sent need boiling into her veins until the air itself simmered with heat.

  Suddenly he pushed his finger up into her, and the shocking, searing pleasure made her gasp. Her insides clenched around the intrusion.

  “So, Miss Masterson, have you hidden anything in your womanly recesses?” His finger stroked deeper, in and out, his thumb rubbed against her clit in a way that eroded her control, and the feeling of him touching her, of doing what he wanted, was almost too much. Her head spun.

  When he stepped away, leaving her empty inside, she moaned.

  “I find nothing. Perhaps it’s deeper than I can reach. Or elsewhere.” He pulled the cane from under his belt and idly slapped the weapon against his palm in a way that totally fixed her attention despite the need throbbing inside her. “But as long as we’re at this, you will now provide me with the answer to something else.”

  After a minute, the ominous silence registered, and she managed to pull her gaze from the stick. Oh my… His eyes were so blue and as clear as the sky above. The ground under her slid sideways and—

  “Kalinda?”

  Hellfire. She blinked and forced herself to turn toward the forest, trying to get her brain to work, but her mind had melted away with the rest of her body.

  He set a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze again. “When I arrived and said we didn’t need to talk…what were you thinking that hurt you?”

  She stiffened as she remembered how she’d thought: He only wants me for sex. That’s all. She bit her lip. Uh-huh, share that thought with the nice dom. Not. “Nothing important.”

  The cane tapped the outside of her left breast, just enough to sting, to startle her, to jiggle the clamp. She hissed as pain sizzled through her breast and streaked straight for her pussy. She tried to raise her arms. Trapped. The pain and the reminder of her restraints—how the hell could that turn her on like this? Her bones felt like boiled noodles.

  “Kalinda, I would like an answer.”

  She tried to think of something adequate…and took too long.

  The cane slapped the outside of her right breast, then the tender underside, and—oh, God!—right over the excruciatingly sensitive nipple already pinned by the clamp. She yelped. And yet fire seared straight to her clit.

  He looked down at her, face expressionless. The utter authority in the lift of his chin destroyed her determination.

  “I decided we shou
ld have a nice clandestine affair.” Her words spilled out as if a dam had crumpled, but she still managed to divert the flood into a side branch. “Never be seen together in public.”

  “All right. I believe you had those thoughts.” His jaw hardened. “But I asked what made you hurt.” He closed his hand around her arm and then tapped the cane against her pussy, just below her clit, hitting her swollen labia.

  She rose right up onto tiptoes at the burning, stinging pain. “Aaaah!” She tried to step away, but his grip seemed more inflexible than handcuffs.