Master of the Mountain

Chapter Nine

Jake left after they'd moved the heaviest sections of the tree. Logan found a shady spot and caught two hours of sleep before returning to the job of cleaning up the trail. He dragged the remainder of the debris off, shored up a section with rebar and wood braces, and cleaned out a dammed-up stream.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he scowled back down the trail. All that work, and only two miles or so accomplished. A flash of emerald green caught his eyes, and he frowned. Another flash. A hiker on the trail. One of the guests?

As he listened, he tossed more rocks into a muddy hole. Eventually he heard the soft crunch of dry pine needles. Incoming. He turned and saw Rebecca.

Pleasure shot through him at the sight of her, and he scowled in reaction. After leaving Jake, he'd decided to stay completely away from the city girl. She didn't need a damaged soldier, and he didn't need the heartbreak, because, dammit, she could easily break his heart. Another night of fun, and they'd both be hurting.

He glanced at the trail behind her and saw no one. “What are you doing hiking alone?”

A shaft of sunlight turned her eyes a clear green, and her hair glinted red and gold as she pushed back loose strands. “Everyone else went to some meadow, and I hate sitting around all day. I didn't realize you were up this trail. Sorry.”

Ignoring his rules by hiking alone. Would have avoided him if she could. Two strikes. Anger stirred within him. Would she fail the third? He stepped closer.

Her eyes widened, and then he took her lips. She didn't pull away but offered her mouth, soft and open.

Threading his fingers through her hair, he tilted her head to give him complete access. When he stepped back, her face was flushed with arousal, and his anger disappeared under his own stirring lust. Dammit, she could tempt a priest to sin.

She broke the rules. Concentrate on that, not sex. He fisted the hand in her hair. “The rules of the lodge are no hiking alone. Did you forget?”

“Uh.” She huffed out a breath. “No. I just wanted to hike and didn't have anyone to go with me.”

Deliberate disobedience, but honest at least. He slid his hand down to cover her throat and grip her neck gently. “Rebecca. Don't do it again. Am I clear?”

“Clear,” she said softly.

Under his fingers, her pulse increased, the compelling response of a submissive under control. He hardened. And changed his mind about escorting her back to the lodge, staying away from her, and not breaking any hearts, including his own.

“Since you're here, I guess I'll make use of you,” he murmured.

“Okay, I'd be happy to help work on your trail,” she said, her eyes on the shovel lying in the brush. When his fingers undid the first button of her flannel shirt, her startled gaze met his.

“I have a different kind of use in mind.” He slid his hand under her bra and cupped her firmly. The startled intake of breath made him smile. He was thinking of all kinds of use.

The place where the swingers were headed couldn't be more beautiful than this, Rebecca thought, as they crested a hill and saw a tiny mountain meadow awash with purple and yellow wildflowers. The low hum of honeybees busy at harvest vied with the soft swish of the grasses in the breeze.

As they walked into the clearing, Logan released her hand and grasped her wrist.

Rebecca shivered, realizing with that move, he'd deliberately established she was under his control. She looked up and saw him waiting for her reaction. The man-the Dom-watched what she did more closely than anyone ever had. It made her feel vulnerable, almost as if he could read her mind.

As if she'd said just that, he stopped and tilted her chin up. “What was that thought?”

“Excuse me, but you don't get to know every thought I have.” She tried to pull her face away, to back up.

He not only didn't release her but he crowded closer, his eyes darkening to a steely gray. “Normally during the day, your thoughts are your own. When you share my bed or when we are together like this”-he held up her arm where his fingers shackled her wrist-“then you will share your thoughts and your feelings. Openly and honestly.”

She swallowed. The heat coursing through her body at his words contrasted with the quaking deep inside her. She liked talking with people but not sharing private emotions. They were meant to be private.

“Once again,” he said softly. “You were thinking what?” His fingers kept her chin up; his thumb stroked over her cheek.

“I-I…” Like she'd tell him she felt vulnerable. Sure, and that would help everything feel better. “I was just…” Tell him about the flowers and the-

“Rebecca, do not lie to me,” he warned, derailing that idea.

The sternness in his eyes and voice made her legs feel like overcooked spaghetti noodles.

His gaze softened. “Ah, sweetheart, this is very new to you.” With a half laugh, he gathered her into his arms, his strong chest under her cheek, his arms like iron bands around her.

With a breath of relief, she put her arms around him. God, it felt good to be held. He scared her sometimes and-

“I'm waiting.”

Dammit. Pulling back slightly, she leaned her forehead on his chest, staring downward. His scarred boots were firmly planted on the ground, and his jeans couldn't conceal the muscles in his thighs. This was a powerful man, and man was the operative word. Not a boy in an adult-sized body, but a man in the fullest sense of the meaning. Her defenses buckled. “I saw how you watch me so closely,” she said to his boots. “Like you can read my mind.”

“And how do you feel thinking I could read your mind?” Like a surgeon's knife, his words went right to the heart of the matter. When she tried to ease back, his hand curled around her nape, tightly enough that she knew he wouldn't let her move.

“Vulnerable, dammit. I feel vulnerable.”

“There we go,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek on the top of her head. His arms molded her against him. “Being turned on by that vulnerability makes it even worse, doesn't it?”

Oh God. Right there was the part she didn't want to think about. A quiver went through her, and he chuckled, damn him.

He led her to a tree stump, seated himself, and pulled her between his legs. “You're not a swinger, Rebecca.” His hands tightened on her arms, holding her in place, and she felt herself dampen. “But you are a submissive.”

The easy way he stated the fact made something constrict in the pit of her stomach.

Relaxing his grip, he ran his hands up and down her arms. “You had a taste of it last night, and you liked it. And now you're scared.”

“Sure am,” she muttered.

“You could run away, but that won't change your nature. It won't change what you want in bed.”

That so was not what she wanted to hear.

“Since you're here…and I'm here, perhaps you should take advantage of the time and keep learning about BDSM.”

An ache had started in her groin, set off by the feel of his hands on her. By the way he kept control of her body and the conversation and…everything.

However, he now emotionally, if not physically, backed off, waiting for her answer, giving her the choice.

If she wanted, she could enter this strange world. She shouldn't. Kinky sex just wasn't her, not at all. Then she remembered Ashley's hateful words, and her stomach twisted. I'm really frigid.

“Good to know.”

She looked at him in horror. She'd said that out loud? “Matt told Ashley that,” she muttered. God, how humiliating. But repeating Ashley's words and Matt's beliefs decided her. She'd come to Serenity looking for the answer to her sexuality, and she'd found a key in BDSM. Being ordered, being restrained… They turned her on, and yet she couldn't see doing this with just anyone. Any Dom.

She stared at Logan, seeing the strong jaw, the level eyes, his lips firm. He looked like a man who knew himself, one who didn't have any secret agenda to pursue. She trusted him. Mostly. He might scare her sometimes, but he wouldn't hurt her. He'd keep her safe.

Okay, then. If he wanted to open the door, she should take him up on it. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling as if she were jumping off a cliff. “I want to continue.”

When his legs tightened, trapping her between them, and he started unbuttoning her shirt, her heart stuttered. “Do you remember your safe word?” he asked.

“Red, right?”

“Very good.” The approval in his voice warmed her like a snuggly blanket and eased the tremors coursing through her. Her shirt flapped open, and he pushed it right off. Her bra followed, and she stood there half-naked. Outdoors. On a sunny day.

He caught her hands before she could cover herself and gave her an implacable look. “For the next hour or so, this body is mine to play with. Do you understand?”

A shudder ran through her when his hand caressed her breasts.

“Little sub, your answer is 'yes, Sir.'” He waited.

She tried to swallow, but all the spit was gone from her mouth. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

“Very good.” Rising, he moved her behind the stump to where the trunk lay propped up at an angle on the hillside. The exposed surface had been sanded smooth and black Velcro cuffs dangled from iron rings embedded in the sides. He settled her back on it and held out a hand. “Give me your wrists.”

When she hesitated, he waited patiently, his eyes level. She trusted him, but nothing moved. An odd constriction around her chest kept her lungs from expanding as she stared at him. She really did trust him. She placed her hands into his.

His smile of approval helped, but then he lifted her hands over her head and leaned forward, putting his weight on her, anchoring her in place. Something suddenly tightened around one wrist, then the other.

She inhaled sharply and yanked. Her wrists were restrained. Tilting her head backward, she stared upward. Cuffs encircled her wrists, securing her to the tree.

She tugged, feeling on the edge of panic, her heart racing. “Logan? I don't like this.” Her voice shook. She squirmed underneath him.

He took her face between his hands, halting her frantic movements, his hands unyielding but gentle. “Rebecca, look at me.”

The command wrenched her attention back to him.

“I'm not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Do you believe me?”

She looked into his blue eyes. Stern, strong, powerful, but not cruel. He'd always told her the truth. She nodded.

A crease appeared in his cheek, although his lips didn't smile. “Good. The beginning of trust. I'm not going to leave you, and I'm not going to hurt you. Your job is simply trust. Trust me for-say, an hour-and afterward we'll talk about it. Can you do that?”

An hour? She'd be outdoors, chained to a tree, and half-naked for an hour? But his eyes stayed level, and her disquiet eased enough that she could give him a tiny nod.

His smile held approval. “Good girl.” Bending his head, he licked over one nipple. She jerked as the hot sensation sizzled straight through her. Her arms tried to react, and she couldn't move, and that sent more heat washing through her. After a second, she realized Logan had stepped back, and his thoughtful gaze focused on her face.

When he cupped both her breasts in his hard hands, stroking the bunched nipples with his thumbs, she bit down on a moan. Her head thumped back against the tree as sensation after sensation rushed through her, and her next moan escaped.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Logan murmured. He stepped back far enough to pull a strap over the little sub's waist, cinching it snugly over her bare stomach. It would both secure her more fully and take some of the strain off her arms.

She watched him with big eyes. Her breathing quickened, and he could feel the violent thudding of her heart when he palmed a breast. But her terror decreased each time her arousal grew.

He needed to keep reassuring her to retain her trust. But the edgy tension in her eyes and the shiver running through her were a Dom's dream. He walked a fine line, controlling himself as much as her, driving the scene for both their sakes.

He kissed her, taking her mouth slowly and thoroughly, letting his hands wander over her lush breasts. The nipples were peaked but still a pale pink, like cotton candy, and so velvety soft. He pleased himself for a while, licking and sucking until they spiked hard and pointed and turned a vibrant red. The curvy body under his hands slowly turned hotter than the sun on his shoulders.

She stiffened when he yanked her jeans and panties off, leaving her naked. To be fair and somewhat considerate, he stripped his shirt off.

Her eyes lingered on his chest, and she smiled at him. When her body eased slightly, he realized she believed he'd finished and the rest was going to be straight sex. Poor little sub.

He knelt, grasped her ankle, and enjoyed how she tried to keep her legs together in a silent protest. A Velcro cuff chained to an iron stake in the ground went around her ankle. He tightened the chain until her leg angled outward. When he did the same to her other leg, he heard a whimper of fear. Standing back, he nodded. Nicely exposed, her pussy waited for his touch.

Leaning forward, he ran his hands up and down her restrained arms until her breathing eased, and she stopped pulling at the restraints. “I like seeing you like this, little rebel,” he said, capturing her eyes. “You are open to me in every way.”

She couldn't conceal the quivering of her body at his words or the way her pupils dilated.

He took his seat on the stump. He and Jake had designed this piece of “equipment” carefully. The downed trunk made an admirable incline table and the sanded-off stump a convenient stool. A bondage group that weekend had provided test subjects so the cuffs and chains positioned a sub's pussy at just the right place for someone sitting on the tree stump.

His cock hardened as he looked at the little sub lain out like a feast in front of him. Arms over her head, her breasts jiggling slightly with her rapid breathing, the nipples in tight points of arousal. Glistening wet, her red-gold pubic hair glowed in the sunlight, and with her legs so widely spread, her labia peeked out, begging to be touched.

He ran a finger through her folds and smiled. She might be a tad scared, but she was also very, very wet. He slicked her pussy with her moisture and stroked over her clit, enjoying her high whine.

So the swingers thought her cold, did they? Idiots. Pausing for a second, he glanced across the tiny valley to Crone Mountain, where Jake had taken the others. Gold Dust Falls lay about…there, as a bird flies, well within shouting-or screaming-distance. He didn't give a damn what the swingers thought, but it obviously mattered to Becca. Well, then.

Uneasy with his silence, she squirmed in anticipation, and he leaned back to enjoy the sight. A soft, round submissive restrained. Squirming. Wet. He intended to use her well.

But first, she needed to sing. He leaned forward and slid a finger over one side of the engorged nub. He ignored her gasp of pleasure and ruthlessly and quickly drove her right to the edge of a climax.

When he lifted his hand, her hips tried to follow. Her eyes opened, swirling with need and then frustration when he didn't respond.

He simply watched her stew, giving her an indisputable lesson in who held the reins. Soon the tiny muscles around her mouth showed the anger overcoming her need.

He leaned forward and licked right over her clit.