Master of the Dark Side: A Novella

by Cherise Sinclair

  He abandoned her clit to press two fingers over her entrance, then thrust them inside her, hard and fast.

  The shock sent her over again. “Nooooo.”

  He laughed, caressing her stinging bottom. “Oh yes, Summer. God, look at you.” His jeans rubbed against her leg, the pressure of his thighs comforting as she shook in his grasp. Sweat covered her body, and her heart hammered hard enough to break through her ribs.

  “The way you got off…” He stroked her for a minute, letting her catch her breath, murmuring quiet compliments about the pleasure she’d given him, about sharing her response with him.

  His words reassured her. Why did an orgasm make her feel as if she’d opened herself to someone she didn’t know? But she didn’t know him, did she? The surge of affection, of need for him to hold her, was false, not true at all.

  Emotions twisting, she pulled on the restraints, needing to get free, to get up. To get gone. Only, he’d want his turn now, and…

  “Shhh.” To her surprise, he took her face between his big hands and kissed her, not hungrily as she expected, but sweetly, his lips firm, sure, enticing her to want more. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  She sighed when he let her go, and somehow the aching, fearful sensation had eased.

  “Better,” he murmured. “Now hold on, baby. I’ve seen what clamps do.” He stepped in front of the bench and removed the clamp from her left breast.

  Blood rushed into her nipple, bringing a searing whip of pain. She gasped, pulling back from him.

  “One more.” He took the other clamp off, and God, it burned and hurt. Tears filled her eyes, and she jerked frantically at the restraints holding her arms behind her back.

  “Easy, Summer.” He unclipped her wrists, and then detached the spreader bar, leaving all the cuffs on.

  She held her fingers against her breasts as the fiery pain lessened. How’d she manage to forget how much worse clamps felt coming off than going on?

  After a minute or two, a tolerable throbbing replaced the burning. She sighed and realized he stood nearby, keeping an eye on her. Okay, time to play fair. She glanced at his jeans and the very large bulge in front. “Perhaps I can do something in return?”

  “Maybe later.” He pulled a soft, thin blanket from the toy bag and wrapped it around her. “Let me clean up a bit. I’m sure they have cleaning supplies.”

  “I can help.” To her surprise, her legs wobbled. Then again, she’d never come so hard before. Taking a minute to get stable, she looked around. Near the center of the room, Simon and Xavier talked quietly and watched the scenes. Xavier’s dark gaze met hers, and a faint smile appeared on his hard face.

  Had he set her up with Virgil deliberately?

  Unsettled, she secured her blanket, got the spray bottle and paper towels and wiped down the equipment while Virgil put everything away.

  Might as well get dressed, she thought, and found her clothes. When she started to unfasten the blanket, he gave a deep laugh. “Not so fast, blondie.” He set the clothing in her hands and scooped her up, making her head spin.

  “Put me down.”

  “Nope.” He held her snuggled to his bare chest, tipping her up so he could rub his cheek against hers. “I like carrying you.”

  He had a clean, crisp masculine scent with hints of soap and an outdoorsy aftershave. Unable to resist, she ran her fingers through his sandy-colored hair. A conservative, short cut—why was she not surprised? Soft, thick, and straight, like the fur on Mark’s Siberian husky, and much more fun to play with. His cheek creased as if he enjoyed her hands on him.

  She liked them there too.

  He found an isolated spot, dropped the toy bag beside the chair, and tossed her clothes on it, then sat down.

  Her tender bottom hit his hard thighs, and she winced. When he settled her on his lap rather than having her kneel, she tensed. She only sat on laps for spankings. “Sir, please, I don’t want a spanking.”

  “Good,” he said easily. “I think I’m done beating on your ass for tonight…unless you annoy me.” His brows drew together. “First you figure I want sex, then that I’ll spank you. Summer, don’t you ever talk to your doms after a scene?”

  “Uh. Not a lot.”

  “Whose fault that you don’t?” He didn’t sound as if he were blaming her…or the men. Just curious.

  “Well, it’s not like I get all emotional or anything. I usually leave afterward.”

  “So your doms don’t have the chance.” He remained silent for a minute. “One of the nicer things with this BDSM business is the way it forces—or should force—people to talk. I never realized how much I assumed about a partner’s perceptions until I started to ask questions. So we’re gonna have a chat now, baby.”

  She stared at him. He wasn’t joking. She’d seen couples sitting around after scenes but figured the subs had felt needy. “I’m not upset. I mean, we don’t have to talk.”

  “Yeah, we do.” He rubbed his thick knuckles over her cheek. “Damn, you’re soft. I have trouble keeping my hands off you.”

  Okay, serious melty stuff.

  “What did you like about our scene?” he asked.

  She flushed.

  His hand that had been so gentle closed on her jaw and kept her from looking away.

  “Uh. Everything?”

  He snorted. “That’s useful. You like breast clamps. Could I have made them tighter?” As if to illustrate, he moved his hand under the blanket and fondled her breast. When he pinched the nipple, she stiffened at the rush of pain—and pleasure.

  “Answer me.”

  “I thought they were too tight at first, but then they were okay.” She stopped and sighed when he raised his eyebrow for her to continue. “I liked the paddle, and I guess you could have hit harder, only I…”

  He simply gazed at her, not laughing, not unhappy, just listening intently…and watching her. She looked down at her hands and admitted, “I’ve never come so hard before or felt so…” Fulfilled. “It was wonderful.” When one of her buddies got her off during a scene, it felt like a pleasant burp. Satisfying enough, but she’d still have a hollow feeling—like receiving presents yet being alone at Christmas.

  Firm fingers lifted her chin back up. “Simon knows you, so I figure you’ve played in Dark Haven before. What was the difference from other scenes?”

  “How come I haven’t seen you before?”

  “I don’t live here.” He repeated, “What was the difference?”

  He deserved the truth. “You pushed me.” She stopped.

  One cocked eyebrow was the response she got. More.

  She exhaled and admitted, “You made me take it. I didn’t get a choice, and I don’t… It’s different if I don’t have any control.” And he’d calmed her fears somehow. His overwhelming self-confidence and authority and that easy humor had gotten to her. God, she liked him.

  Then again, experience said she’d proven lousy at differentiating a good man from a bad man. Really, she needed to go home now. A shrill scream from a nearby scene sent a chill through her, topping off her resolution.

  She tried to slide off his lap, but his hand curved over her hip securing her in place. “Stay put, little sub,” he growled. “What I’m hearing is that you like being pushed…if you feel safe. You like pain to some extent—having your ass paddled and nipple clamps on, and you liked getting off.”

  It sounded terrible when said out loud. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He kissed her nose. “Considering I’ve had my hands all over you and my fingers inside you, how can talking embarrass you?”

  She felt her face flame.

  “A modest sub who likes to play in public. Interesting.” He didn’t grin often…but when he did, it was devastating. “You have any questions in turn?”

  Her body had focused on the way he’d said, “my fingers inside you,” and the memory of how that felt; her brain couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

  “All right, I’ll answer anyway
. I didn’t think I would, but I enjoyed beating on your ass. I enjoyed playing with you and getting you off. And I’d like to do more.” His finger rubbed over her lips, parted them, and slipped inside.

  Thick. Calloused. She swirled her tongue around it and sucked, delighted at how his eyes heated.

  “I don’t want to make love to you in front of all these people, Summer. Come back to my hotel, and we’ll play there.”

  The unexpected request—and surge of fear—tightened her muscles, and she pushed his hand away. “No. I never play anywhere but here. Ever.”

  “Ever,” he repeated. “Does this have something to do with the bad experience Simon mentioned?”

  She stiffened. “I won’t talk about it.”

  “Uh-huh, that would be a yes.” He shifted her closer, making it impossible for her to sit upright. “You’re almost as easy to read as my little cousin.”

  “I need to go now.”

  “Woman, you’re going to give me a complex if you keep trying to run away.” His voice turned hard. “Sit. Still.”

  Oh God. Why did he have to have such a willpower-destroying, subterranean baritone?

  “You had fun—wonderful fun. And you like me.” He paused and waited for her nod. “So although you don’t want to go anywhere with me, you’d probably like to continue?”

  Chapter Four

  ‡

  Virgil waited, striving for patience. Around them, the dungeon pulsed with activity. The atmosphere had grown darker, more serious. Much of the fancy submissive clothing had disappeared; many of the subs were naked.

  Seconds ticked away before the little sub nodded again. Satisfaction rolled through Virgil. In his younger days, he’d enjoyed so many women that his father had been disgusted, but he’d learned a few lessons. He damned well knew when a woman felt something for him, and Summer did. They’d had a connection before he’d spanked her, and it had grown stronger. He hadn’t realized that would happen. Pain and sex—he had a lot to learn if he continued.

  But she trusted him, at least to a degree, this wary little sub who reminded him of a skittish filly, and he had a feeling she didn’t trust many men, except maybe the ineffectual dom she’d hung out with earlier. What had happened to her in the past? “If I asked you out to dinner, would you go with me?”

  “No.”

  Now that just hurt. “Do you date at all?”

  “Not doms.”

  Obviously some bastard dom had been to blame. No dating? He traced the tiny freckles on her cheeks with a finger. Well, he wasn’t looking to start a relationship anyway, especially with someone who lived hours from Bear Flat. He’d come here only for this one night. Tomorrow he’d head home, finish working out the plans for a greenhouse off the barn, and be back at work on Monday. He’d probably never see this little, sweet woman again.

  The thought sent a pang of regret through him and increased his resolve to spend time with her now. “All right, then. I want more, and so do you, but you don’t want to leave here. Am I hitting all the bases?”

  “Yes.” She had a seductively melodic voice, not low or husky, but…a little furry, as if she were purring. She could probably read a phone book and get a guy off.

  “Then we’ll stay put and play some more. Can we find somewhere here a tad more private?”

  She bit her lip, which he’d noticed meant she was nervous. And between his kisses and her nervousness, her mouth was swollen. Tempting. He pulled her up and kissed her gently, then took his turn at nibbling on her lower lip. Soft. Velvety. Warm. Seductive as hell. Unable to resist, he took her mouth hard, plunging in and possessing. His cock thickened with his need to plunge into her pussy the same way.

  What else would she let him do? What did he want to do?

  Fuck, he wanted to do everything…

  Her arms were around his neck when he pulled back, and her eyes were hot, dazed with desire. Why did she have to feel so right? “Find us somewhere to play, Summer. Now.”

  She blinked. “Maybe one of the theme rooms? They have windows, but we wouldn’t be on display like this.”

  “That’ll do.”

  He set her on her feet, and she hesitated. “You won’t gag me, right?”

  What the hell had that bastard dom done? “No, baby, I won’t.” He held his hand out, pleased when she set her hand in his. She didn’t have an artist’s long, slender fingers. Her fingers were short, her hand designed for work. He approved.

  On the far end of the dungeon, Summer stopped in front of a door and checked the window. “It’s empty.”

  An actual room with a door. Amazing. “Seems private enough.”

  “Weeell.” She flushed and pointed to small holes in the wall. “It’s the Victorian theme room, so it has peepholes for voyeurs.”

  Jesus. “Let’s take a look.” He opened the door and guided her in. Eighteen-hundreds’ brothel style. The flowery wallpaper in dark reds blended with deeply colored Oriental carpets. The four-poster bed held definite possibilities, especially with chains hooked up in the canopy frame. The wall sconces put out a soft yellow light. The bed curtains looked promising at first, but they’d been anchored to the posts so a person couldn’t pull them around the mattress. Not that much privacy.

  He glanced at Summer and paused. She obviously saw it different. Her color had faded, and her hands had a death grip on the blanket she wore.

  “Is this too private for you, Summer?”

  She inhaled slowly, looking more brave than excited. “I’m all right.”

  He hesitated. Should he continue in here? Perhaps so. She trusted him more than she had earlier…because he’d pushed her limits a little. Something else to remember. Being in here would push her too—as long as her fear didn’t increase.

  After setting the toy bag on the edge of the mattress, he smiled at her. “Hop up on the bed, sweetie. I have things I want to do to you.”

  Even in the dim room, he could see her eyes dilate, turning the sky blue to indigo. Anticipation…and submission. The knowledge squeezed his balls and sent a jolt of adrenaline through him.

  Dropping her blanket, she climbed onto the high bed. Her hair glinted like starlight against the dark blue quilt, and he wanted to gather the silky strands in his hands. Soon. “Lie on your back.”

  She turned, propping herself up on her elbows, and his heart simply stuttered. Had he ever seen anyone more lovely? Her hair fell over her softly curved shoulders and upper arms. Beautifully creamy skin with a spattering of freckles across her upper breasts. Her stomach was rounded. His fingers remembered how her hips had felt in his grip.

  He took his time. He’d never watched a woman in this way before, with the certainty she was his to look at as long as he wanted. Something inside him shifted with the knowledge.

  Her lips were swollen. Her pale pink nipples were rosy from the clamps—her pussy bare. He wanted to taste her, there, where his fingers had stroked. And he didn’t plan to wait any longer.

  Her eyes met his, and she flushed prettily. He realized that if his inspection had embarrassed her, he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. But when he grasped her ankle, she shivered. Slow down, Masterson. She was excited but also frightened. How could he control her in the way she needed without terrifying her? He studied her and arrived at a compromise. “I’m not going to tie your hands. That should help with your worries.”

  She relaxed slightly, yet a little kissable pout indicated disappointment. Perfect. This might work. He walked around to the side of the bed. “Your hands will stay free, but I’m going to restrain your legs.”

  “What?”

  How could a tiny tremor in her voice turn him on like someone had dumped a bucket of testosterone over him, yet seeing her truly scared had the opposite effect? And how the hell did he know the difference? But somehow he’d found her wavelength; he seemed to read her thoughts, her body. She was showing anxiety now, not fear.

  And he liked her a little nervous.

  Had he just thought
that? He closed his eyes. Fucking pervert. What was he doing here?

  Doing what I’ve wanted to do all my life. Looked like he was going to have a hell of a lot of thinking to do once he left Dark Haven. For now, though…

  “Virgil?”

  He squeezed her ankle and said smoothly, “Oh, you heard me.” He unhooked a chain from the overhead canopy frame, raised her left leg, and clipped her ankle cuff to the dangling chain so her leg pointed straight up. She fought him, just the smallest amount, and the feeling of using his strength against her, overcoming her resistance, was heady stuff.

  He knew if he didn’t see that a little force excited her, he’d not enjoy it at all. But her nipples bunched even tighter. She wet her lips, her breathing fast.

  He restrained her right leg so her legs were widely spread in a V shape. Her pussy was exposed—and facing the peepholes, which he didn’t particularly like. That soft pink cunt was his and not for display.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Summer.” She blinked as if startled, then smiled.

  He curved her hands around her inner thighs so it appeared as if she held herself open for him. “Keep your hands there and don’t let go. No matter what.”

  Her breathing gave a nice hitch. Her nipples were hard peaks, and he pinched one lightly, making her hips wiggle. Fuck, he loved squirmy women. “Did you understand my instructions?”

  She sounded as if she’d just finished a marathon as she said, “Yes, Sir.”

  The term pleased him more and more. Not only respectful, it was an acknowledgement of the connection between them. With a hand under her lush bottom, he lifted her and pushed a pillow under her hips to raise her pussy—and that little asshole—in the air.

  How would she react when he tested that limit? His cock had its own reaction, trying to punch a hole through the front of his jeans.

  From a small table, he took a packet of lube and a condom. He scowled at the rough calluses on his fingers, and then grabbed a glove too.