Virtual Love (Sexy Alpha Male Romance)

by Amber Carew

  The familiar kitchen was big and bright, with blue gingham curtains adorning the windows. The wood stove, which usually sported a big pot of stew, stood dark and cold in the corner. An examination of the other rooms soon convinced her the house was empty. And, just like outside, there was no sign of damage.

  She pulled open the door and stepped outside. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Was she being watched? Bringing a hand to her brow to shade her eyes from the sun, she glanced around. Major Blue munched on a tuft of grass, snorting occasionally, tail whipping to shoo away flies. He whinnied once, then stepped forward and back.

  She laughed. "What's the matter, Blue? You look a mite nervous." She stepped toward him and stopped cold when she heard the hammer of a Schofield click back.

  "Hold it right there, Marshall."

  The gruff masculine voice came from behind her. Jake. He must have been waiting beside the house, staying out of sight until she'd come back out. It would be easier trapping her out here in the open where there were no handy barriers to use for cover.

  "Turn around… real slow. And put your hands on your head."

  She did as he said and found herself facing the tall, lanky man who'd lost so much to her such a short time ago.

  "I never figured you for a sore loser, Jake," she said, keeping her voice light.

  "T'ain't sore. I jest plan on gettin' my money back."

  She narrowed her eyes. "You planning on robbing me, Jake?"

  "I don't call it robbin', Marshall. Jest takin' back what's rightfully mine."

  He ambled toward her, gun trained on her heart.

  "You won't get away with this, Jake."

  He reached for the pouch slung to her belt and freed it with a sudden tug.

  "I don't know about that, Marshall. You see, I'm sick of this town. Plan to move on."

  "I'll find you, Jake. Wherever you go."

  "Don't know about that, Marshall. You see, I got me some help."

  He grabbed the rope she kept on Blue's saddle and slung it over his shoulder, then shoved her towards the barn. She stumbled forward and when she regained her balance she felt the tip of Jake's gun in the middle of her back.

  "Go on, Marshall."

  Once inside, he tied her hands. He pushed one end of the rope through her bound arms then tied an expert knot around the bindings at her wrists. He tossed the other end up over one of the rafters and tugged the rope taut, pulling her arms over her head. He kept pulling, until she took her weight on her toes, then finally hung solely by her wrists.

  "There you go, Marshall. Reckon that'll slow you down a might."

  "Jake—"

  "Save it, Marshall. You'll be needin' yer strength." With that he turned and raced from the barn chuckling in triumph.

  In real life, she might feel a bit panicky about now but she knew freedom lay just two words away. So again things had gone astray. At least the pirate hadn't decided to play a starring role this time. She'd wait a little longer to see what happened next.

  The barn door creaked open.

  "So, Jake, you changed your mind—"

  The words stopped short as the stranger, who called himself Phantom, strode into the barn. His gaze raked down and up her body in a frankly sexual assessment.

  "So, Marshall Jerette, are you going to flee, or are you… woman enough to face me this time?"

  She raised her head at his challenge, firmly squelching the little voice that prodded her to shout out those two little words. "You have me at a slight disadvantage… Phantom."

  "Yes." The grin that split his face belonged to the devil himself. "But only slight. And I think I rather like it that way."

  He walked up to face her and, though she hung with her toes dangling an inch off the ground, they were eye to eye. He stood so close she could feel the heat of his body. Even though the rope at her wrists burned into her flesh, her body ignored the pain and screamed its craving for this tall, and very dark, stranger.

  Dark as night. Dark as the unknown. Dark as fear.

  "Don't be afraid of me, Marshall Jerette." His words, softly spoken, designed to soothe, were followed by his hands gently skimming down her sides. One strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against his chest. As that hard wall of muscle crushed her soft breasts between their two bodies, her heart quickened.

  Then it leaped as his knife flashed across her vision, her throat clogged with a stifled scream, preventing her from shouting the words of freedom. Before she could question the lack of cutting pain, she dropped a few inches, her whole weight falling against his body. Her arms, still bound at the wrists, dropped over his head. She found herself draped across him like a wanton, and judging from his smile, he enjoyed it immensely.

  The words, that little voice reminded, even as her body insisted she forget. Her eyes wide, she parted her lips to utter freedom when his lips clamped down on them. His hand curled around the back of her head and held them firmly enmeshed. When she tried to form the words in his mouth he slashed out his tongue to keep hers occupied, fervently, tortuously… lovingly.

  Contradictions. Aggressive, yet tender. Serious, yet teasing. Overpowering, yet giving.

  Giving? Yes, somehow she knew he meant to give her as much pleasure as he took. Maybe even more.

  "Definitely more, sweet Jerette."

  His gentle, smiling words enslaved her in his spell. How could he read her thoughts like that? She knew she shouldn't waste precious words on anything save escape—but she had to know.

  "Who are you? And why are you here?"

  "My name is Phantom. I'm here to delay you from pulling together a posse and apprehending Jake."

  "I don't mean your purpose in VR," she whispered. "Why do you keep coming after me? Taking over my fantasies?"

  He frowned. "You know it's a blatant disregard of etiquette to slip out of your role."

  "I don't care," she hissed. "Tell me why you're here. What do you want from me?"

  His fingers feathered down her rib cage, coming to rest beside her breasts, his thumbs sliding up and down the sides of those soft mounds.

  "I think it's very obvious what I want." The words rumbled from deep inside his chest.

  "But… why me? My system's closed. It should be clear I don't want this."

  "But you do."

  The certainty in his words shook her. "Why you obnoxious—"

  "And I don't mean a moment of fleeting pleasure," he continued through her outburst. "We both know what you really want… and need."

  No, she cried out. She didn't know what he meant. She didn't.

  "Just let go, sweet Jerette. Let loose the reins."

  Her eyes widened a fraction and his mouth took hers again. She insisted to herself a tiny shock of fear must have flickered in her eyes and that prompted his action. To prevent her from screaming out the words. Not the fact that he could read her mind. It was just too frightening a prospect to believe he could crawl into her head as well as her fantasies.

  He backed her against the nearby wall, still locked in a kiss, and his body imprisoned her as his hands slid away. His fingertips whispered against her neck and the caress of cloth slithering away told her he'd untied her bandanna. He slid it up and pulled his lips from hers as he covered her mouth with the fabric.

  "It's not that I don't like hearing your lovely voice, Marshall. I just don't want you escaping just yet."

  He ducked his head out from the circle of her arms, trapping her hands down between their bodies. Ignoring the pain the ropes inflicted on her flesh, she pushed against him with all her considerable strength. She gained a couple of inches between them. Just enough for his palms to skim up and find her breasts. She jerked back at the contact, unadulterated pleasure rippling through her despite herself. He kneaded her to a frantic level of desire, then slid his fingers to the buttons of her vest, releasing them, lovingly, one by one. Her hands seemed frozen, unable to move in her defense. He moved on to her shirt and dispensed with those fastenings with the same
sweet care. Pulling open the sides he smiled down at her cotton undershirt.

  "Too bad we don't have a bucket of water handy." His smile was pure seduction. They both remembered that damp, clinging chemise from their last encounter. "Don't worry. I have an idea."

  She shuddered as she felt his warm, damp tongue flick across her already erect nipple.

  No, don't. The silent plea ripped from her anguished mind. He raised his face to look into her widened eyes and she saw something she hadn't expected from this sometimes teasing, sometimes serious, but always confident man. Uncertainty.

  "Jerette." Her name whispered off his lips and across her cheek. "I really do believe you want—need—this. And us. But if I'm wrong…"

  He pulled back slightly. She felt something biting cold against the skin of her wrists then her hands fell free. He lifted first one wrist, then the other, to examine the angry lesions on her tender skin.

  "I've hurt you."

  He followed his tender words with gentle, butterfly kisses. Wherever his lips touched, the lesions—and the pain—disappeared. She watched in awe. This session wasn't programmed for magic so he shouldn't be able to do that.

  She closed her eyes, feeling his healing lips, his drugging kisses, send mixed sensations through her.

  It would be so easy…

  His lips finished with her wrists and started moving up her arm.

  So easy to…

  His tongue cajoled the inside of her elbow, making her gasp.

  So easy to let…

  "Yes, sweet Jerette. Yes. Let go."

  She watched him, mesmerized as he again brought his mouth down on her nipple, licking across it, bringing it to a new, rigid height. Oh, sweet heaven, she wanted this, wanted him. But he frightened her.

  "You know I'll be gentle, my love. I would never hurt you."

  She knew. Somehow she knew she could believe that. But she was frightened of her own reaction. Of her own innocence. She was a virgin in every way. She'd heard it was possible to experience sex in VR but she'd been told it was a shadow of the real thing. With what she'd been feeling here—with him—she was afraid if she allowed him to continue that she'd be too afraid to ever experience the real thing.

  "A virgin? I didn't know." He turned his face away, eyes closing briefly. "How can I expect you to.…" He sighed and captured her gaze again. "This isn't merely sex, my sweet. This is so much more."

  He tugged the gag from between her lips and replaced it with his mouth. The kiss was long and bitterly sweet.

  "Sweet Jerette. I want you. And I believe you want me. Please, don't say those two words. Choose to stay. With me."

  He kissed her again, lovingly, tenderly, drawing forth her passions like the moon draws the tides, until finally the only release she wanted to cry out for was that of ecstasy. As he raised his lips from hers, he watched her expectantly, hope filling his eyes. She hesitated, standing on the edge of the precipice, wondering whether stepping off would mean to fall—or to fly. She parted her lips but no words emerged. The tip of her tongue edged out and swirled around, moistening her dry lips. As though he took that as a sign, Phantom's face lit up with a slow smile.

  Panic tore through her as she felt her wanton response to his pure male beauty. She bit her lip but before she knew it the words burst forth.

  "End session."

  She couldn't go back. Not after that reckless display of hers. How had she come so close to losing herself to a virtual stranger? Even though it was VR, there was a real person driving that persona. If she had allowed him to make love to her, she would have not only been making love to a stranger, but literally to a man she'd never met.

  She could not allow this to happen again. Over the next week, she spent her leisure time stripping her computer, first of software to ensure no virus had burrowed into her system to allow Phantom access, then hardware components, until she had it down to a bare-bones system. She tested each piece as she rebuilt, searching for unfamiliar chips or receivers that may have been installed.

  Nothing.

  She wasn't fooled into thinking he couldn't get in again. She just hadn't figured out how.

  If she couldn't stop him from getting in, maybe she should figure out where he was coming from. She wrote a little routine that would allow her to sense any incoming signals. If he got in, she would trace him back to his source.

  He wasn't the only one who could hack into a system.

  She stretched out on her gaming lounger, pulled on the headset and started the session. Immediately, a standard off-the-shelf e-scape appeared around her. The living room of a two thousand square foot house with beige walls and a simple beige couch and chair was all ready for the user to decorate to their own taste. She dashed past the light oak coffee table, through the louvered door to the kitchen, then across the room to the back door. Unlike the front door, this one was locked, with a special encryption key only she knew the code for. This was the only modification she'd made to the canned software. Phantom had proven his software expertise, but even he would be stopped by this. She'd used the latest in encryption technology, recommended by a friend of hers who was one of the leading cryptographers in North America.

  After only a few moments, she heard the doorbell ring, then the front door open—her signal that Phantom had gained access to her system. She unlocked and opened the back door and dove outside. Both the front and back door would lock upon closing. That should keep Phantom trapped inside the house and out of her hair.

  She whooshed through hyper-space and appeared… somewhere. Whatever it was, it wasn't what she'd expected.

  Complete and utter darkness pressed against her eyelids like black velvet, except her eyes were open. The absolute silence unnerved her. The whole experience was like being in a sensory deprivation chamber. Uncertainty flickered through her. Maybe she should go back. Take her chances with Phantom in her own system. What had she hoped to accomplish by coming here?

  "If you'd wanted to come for a visit, you only had to ask."

  The words sent a chill through her.

  How he'd gotten out of her software trap she didn't know. And wouldn't ask. The man was already way too self-satisfied.

  "Visit what?" she asked. "It looks like you're not set up for visitors."

  The darkness rippled then, to her relief, a room appeared around her.

  Dark, like the man who'd created it. With strong lines. Heavy set furniture. Carved griffon-claw feet on the settee and easy chairs. Moss-green velvet upholstery. Black marble and ornately-carved oak framing the immense fireplace. The heat from the blazing fire was a welcome feeling after the perceived cold of nothingness.

  "Is that more to your liking?"

  She turned to face him.

  He wore tall black boots, tight black breeches, and a loose white shirt, split open to reveal a rock-hard chest lightly sprinkled with dark curls.

  He looked very much like the hero on the cover of the historical romance she'd purchased this morning. An incredibly handsome, rugged-featured face with full lips, velvet black eyes, and a mouth that would make weaker women swoon.

  In fact, the setting could have been taken from the same picture.

  "That dress looks very becoming on you, Jerette." His gaze shifted down her body and settled on her chest, a devilish grin turning up the edges of his mouth.

  She glanced down to see the gown of red silk she wore, cut low in front to reveal her full bosom, pushed up to swell from the top of the dress. A blush darkened the white flesh and she felt it flush across her cheeks. At least it wasn't torn down the front like on the book cover. Not yet, anyway.

  Smugly, she smiled at him. "End session."

  The edges of her mouth froze, then slowly drifted down as the seconds ticked by and the scene remained unchanged.

  She glared at him.

  "Don't you remember, my sweet? You're in my domain now. I am the lord of this realm."

  Panic spiraled through her like a rapidly growing vine as she realized she had
no idea how things worked in his game. Here, she had absolutely no control at all. She cursed her own impetuousness at putting herself in such a vulnerable position.

  She turned and fled, knowing she had to find some way out of here. The voluminous skirts got in the way, so she gathered them up as she ran. Racing down a long wood-paneled hallway, she realized she didn't even know what she was looking for. A door, a window, anything would do. Down a side corridor, she saw a huge wooden door. She raced toward it. She reached for the knob and pulled it open—two inches—but it slammed shut again.

  "Really, Jerette. Must you run off so soon?"

  Phantom's left hand, flat on the door over her left shoulder, held the door shut.

  She turned to face him, her back flat against the door.

  "Let me go."

  He planted his right hand over her other shoulder and leaned toward her. Too close. His warm breath tickled the hairs at her temple. He smelled woodsy and masculine.

  "But you only just arrived. Let me show you some hospitality."

  He nuzzled her ear with his lips, feather-soft and seductive. Her response—one of overwhelming desire—frightened her. She pushed against him. He surprised her by moving back. She dodged past him, putting a good three feet between them.

  "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

  "We've had this discussion already."

  "And you won't answer me."

  No response was forthcoming and his face gave away nothing. She took a calming breath.

  "Look. Why don't you tell me who you really are? Maybe we could meet in real space. Have dinner or a coffee?"

  He stepped closer and she couldn't stop her automatic response to step back.

  "Jerette, you know as well as I do that you'd never meet with me in real space. You're too afraid."

  Her back stiffened. "I'm not afraid."

  He smiled a wicked smile. "Then show me." He stepped forward again.

  She couldn't take this. She fled again desperate to escape. She flung open the first door she saw and raced inside. After shoving the door shut behind her, she turned the large key in the lock and threw it across the room. She leaned against the door panting.