Master of the Mountain

Chapter Fifteen

The growl in Logan's voice sounded more menacing than Thor's best effort. Rebecca set the book on the nightstand, then gave him a wary look. “I wanted to-”

“Now there's the problem, Becca,” Logan interrupted. He sat beside her hip, the mattress compressing under his weight. His eyes, more gray than blue in color, sent unease trickling down her spine. “If I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If this is that domination stuff, you said it applied only in the bedroom.”

He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “True. In a way. I'm a dominant, Becca, and my nature doesn't change. Outside the bedroom, you can disagree with me, and we'll work out a compromise.” He took her hand, and the calluses on his fingers felt almost threatening as he rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “What happened today, more than once, is that you agreed to obey my orders, and then you disobeyed.”

Disobeyed? “Logan, I'm not a child,” she said, shocked when her voice came out hoarse. A shaking started deep inside her.

“No. You're very much a woman,” he said with a faint smile. “And you're also a sub. My sub-for the moment-”

For the moment. Why did that phrase hurt so much?

He continued, “Which means I have certain obligations to you, ones that preclude letting you think you can get away with disobeying your Dom.”

His firm words, the look in his eyes, increased the shaking until her fingers trembled in his grasp. She stared at her hand in horror. What was happening to her? She wasn't scared-not exactly-

“Becca, look at me.”

She raised her eyes.

“We can handle this in two ways. If we are just friends and nothing more, I'll lecture you about safety and go back downstairs.”

The thought hurt her chest and tightened her throat. “And the other?” she whispered.

“If I am your Dom for the rest of your time here, then you will be punished as a sub, and we will go on from there.” His free hand stroked her cheek, the gentle touch making her feel as if she were being split in two parts. “A Dom/sub relationship, however short or long, exists only if there is trust and honesty between both parties. So this is your decision, little one. Your answer is either, 'Let's be friends,' or 'I submit, Sir.'”

His hand on her cheek warmed skin that had gone cold and kept her from turning away. His eyes penetrated her, gazed deep inside. She knew he could feel her tremble. Think, Rebecca. But her ability to think had disappeared along with her willpower. She couldn't tolerate the idea of being just friends. Not at this point. She swallowed, her throat dry. “I submit, Sir.”

He nodded, no expression on his face. “So be it.” He took her hands and held them firmly. “So I'm clear, this punishment is because you went hiking alone. You didn't even tell anyone where you were going.” His voice roughened. “Another hour, and we wouldn't have found you. More rain is due tonight… You'd have died.”

“Wh-what are you-”

“You do not have permission to speak.”

Oh God, what had she done? Yet the feeling of his hands thrilled her, at least until he pulled her facedown across his legs. She ended up with her head and shoulders hanging down, her hips over his knees, and her feet still on the bed. Head spinning, she put her hands flat on the small rag rug and tried to raise herself. When he lifted her nightgown up and cold air brushed across her bottom, the awful understanding came swiftly.

“A spanking? No way.” She tried to push herself back on the bed without success, then tried to drag herself forward off his lap. Her nightgown was caught on something-probably his fist-trapping her. A hand pressed down on her lower back. “Let me go!”

“This will hurt less if you relax,” he said, as if she hadn't spoken, as if she weren't struggling to escape.

“You son of a-”

Slam! The blow hit right across her right buttock and stung like crazy.

“Ow!”

He paused. “Let me know when you feel sorry for what you did. Otherwise, I'll simply continue until my hand gets tired.” A pause.

Slam. Slam.

“Damn you!”

Slam. A pause.

“I hate you, you bastard.”

Slam. Slam.

“You're sick. Sadistic.”

With each blow, his hand came down brutally, stinging worse than she could have imagined until her whole bottom burned.

“B-bast-” Her voice broke as a sob escaped, and tears spilled from her eyes. She hated him.

His hand stroked over her bottom gently. “You scared me, sweetheart. If we hadn't found you before dark…”

Slam. Slam.

She gritted her teeth, trying to keep the sobs back. Trying not to beg.

He continued as if they were having a conversation. “Even Thor wouldn't have been able to keep you warm enough, especially since you couldn't go searching for someplace dry.” A pause.

Slam. Slam. Her fingernails curled into the rag rug.

“Jake and I were terrified, you know. We ran up that trail.”

They'd run? She'd had a tough time walking up it. And then he'd carried her a good part of the way down. She'd been stupid. And careless. Her anger withered and died, and her resistance with it.

Slam.

“I-I'm sorry,” she whispered. “Please… I'm sorry.”

“There we go.” He lifted her up and settled her on his lap. Pain streaked through her when her bottom rubbed on his jeans. She couldn't stop crying, the deep sobs hurting her chest. Confused and angry, sorry and hurting, she tried to push away from him. “Don't touch me,” she choked.

His grip only tightened. His hand cradled her head, pressing her face into his shoulder. “All over, little rebel. It's done.”

When he stroked her hair, she felt comforted and even more confused. He'd hit her and made her cry and now held her. “I'm sorry.”

“I know, sugar.” He kissed the top of her head. “But damn, you scared me.” His arms tightened until she almost couldn't breathe. “I was so angry, I didn't trust myself to do this earlier. You wouldn't have been able to sit down for a week.”

His words turned her attention to her bottom. “I may not anyway, you…” She sucked in a breath. “Sir.”

“Nice save, little one.” He picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bathroom, setting her on the closed toilet seat. She hissed as fire streaked across her tender butt. “Wash your face and get ready for bed. Call me”-he gave her a harsh look-“when you're ready to come back.”

“Yes, Sir.”

After he carried her back to bed, he walked around lighting candles. She watched, her emotions still churning inside.

He stripped, and she had to close her eyes against the sight of his naked body. He was so, so gorgeous.

She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and knew he planned to make love. Her mouth tightened. After spanking her. God, just the word sounded childish. He'd hit her and now thought she'd want to…to fuck? Not happening. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the way her nipples had bunched into points. When she felt the bed sink under his weight, she opened her eyes.

He lay beside her, propping his head up on one hand.

She scowled at him. “I don't want to do anything but sleep. Sir. I have a headache.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face, and his jaw slowly turned to stone. “No, you don't.” He lifted her chin and gave her a look that seared all the way to her toes and made her stomach quiver. “Lying gets punished, little sub, but I believe your ass is a bit tender right now.”

His knuckles rubbed gently against her nipples, undoubtedly feeling the taut peaks, and his smile was pitiless. “I thought to be gentle right now, but you lost that privilege. Instead, I'm going to take you for my own pleasure, and I'm going to take you hard.”

Her mouth dropped open, but before she could speak, he'd ripped the covers out of her grasp and rolled her on her stomach. Ruthless hands shoved her legs apart, never bumping or touching her sore ankle. He yanked her up onto her knees, putting her butt in the air.

She felt a second of coolness when he shoved her nightgown up. A finger touched her pussy, swirled through her folds despite her squirming. He gave a satisfied grunt. “You're wet, sweetheart. Very wet.”

Something pushed against her pussy, and then he sheathed himself in her so forcefully, she cried out. Her hands fisted on the sheets as her insides quaked around him in shock. His knees shoved her legs outward, opening her even farther, and he seated himself so deep, he brushed against her womb. She was still in shock from his entry when he started to move.

No gentle, sweet seduction, this. His hands gripped her hips, taking all the control for himself as he hammered into her so hard, tiny grunts broke from her. And yet, in spite of the ruthless way he took her, her insides heated. Her folds swelled and throbbed as her need rose. She buried her face in the pillow, turning just enough to get air, realizing that was all she could do. Overpowered, anchored in place, she couldn't even push back. Couldn't do anything except take it.

The thought made the burning worse. She could feel herself tighten around him as shivers spiraled through her body. Her legs began to tremble. She bit her lips trying to muffle a whimper.

He gave a short laugh. And suddenly he slid a hand down under her body, stroking through her folds, stroking her clit with a firm, callused finger, the roughness against her sensitive tissues incredibly exciting. Her hips jerked, tried to move, but he leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back, bracing himself over her with one arm on the bed, the other between her legs, stroking, stroking…

His heavy balls slapped against her pussy, sending shocks through her. The rhythmic thrusting set up a pulsing inside her, each one increasing the seething tension. Her hands scratched at the sheets as she panted.

He pulled back, almost all the way out, and she whimpered. The return thrust through her swollen tissues brought a cry. Remaining deep inside her, he rubbed her clit, bringing her to the brink, then lifted his fingers and pulled his cock out again. Hard back inside, fingers again. Over and over, until she couldn't think of anything except the feeling of his fingers, of his cock entering her. She tightened further, her legs turned rigid, and her hands fisted.

Suddenly he trapped her clit between his fingers, using a firm, pinching pressure as he hammered into her.

“Aaaaaah!” The fierce coil inside her exploded outward, sending pleasure crashing through her. Her hips bucked against his hand, but his fingers only tightened, gripping her as her pussy spasmed around his cock in unending shock waves.

He slowed, stopped, and waited until the spasms turned to ripples. His next powerful thrust sent a blinding surge through her as her insides convulsed around the intrusion in another spiraling climax. Another.

Then he opened his fingers.

She screamed as blood shot back into her clit. When he slammed his cock into her, and another violent release burst through her, the top of her skull felt as if it blew off.

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.” She buried her head in the pillow. Everything seemed too sensitive, and she tried to pull away. Her legs were shaking too hard to hold her up.

He laughed. His unyielding hands yanked her hips up, and the hammering started again, short and fast; his hands controlled her every movement. He angled her to where he wanted her, then gave a deep growl, and she could feel his thick cock jerk hard inside her.

He didn't move for a minute, just held her against him with an iron arm across her stomach. His breathing slowed, and then he tipped them both over, keeping them spooned together.

“Still have a headache?” he asked in her ear, his voice rough.

“You're a jerk.”

He chuckled. “This is true.” His hand flattened across her stomach, keeping her pinned against his hot body.

Eventually, he got up. When he returned, he had more ice for her ankle. He rolled her onto her back despite her sleepy protests. “Ankle up, little rebel,” he said, kissing her cheek. “The swelling looks better.”

He took her two more times that night, awaking her from sleep once with his mouth on her breast. The next time, he had his mouth on her clit, having slid so subtly into her dreams that she awoke orgasming. When she tried to move that time, she discovered he'd cuffed her wrists to the headboard and her legs-at the knees-to the sides of the frame. Still gasping, she struggled to get loose, only to have his mouth descend on her again. Light and teasing, forceful and fast. She lay splayed open, available to anything he chose to do, and he did it all. She came, over and over. When he finally relented, he moved up to suck on her nipples until they poked up bright red, then thrust into her, thick and hard, bringing them both to a shuddering climax.

After cleaning up, he put her ankle back up on the pillows and ice, then pulled her against his side.

“You're worse than a mother,” she grumbled. “I hate lying on my back.”

He chuckled and didn't answer. The jerk. And yet how he…dominated their relationship, turned her on in a way she still couldn't believe.

He stroked her breasts, fondling them gently. He liked to touch, she realized. In bed, he kept his arms around her or a hand on her like now. The way he played with her breasts, or just touched her, or ran his hands over her body, made her feel so…so beautiful. Desirable.

She rolled her eyes. Of course, being taken a ka-zillion times in one night pretty much had the same effect. She wrapped her fingers around his hand, feeling a quiver inside at the difference between his and hers. Darkly tanned, callused, muscular. His wrists were the size of her hands. He let her explore, propping his head up to watch her in the dying candlelight. After a minute, she kissed his palm and curled the fingers down.

When she released him, he stroked her cheek, a faint smile on his face. “You worry me, little sub,” he murmured. “Did your parents forget to provide you with a talk button?”

She frowned at him. “What does that mean?”

“I expected a string of curses after your punishment. Instead you buried everything. Time to talk.” His blue eyes were intent on hers. “How did you feel about getting spanked?”

She jerked her face away, only to have him grasp her chin and force her to look at him. “No talk button, sorry,” she said, knowing already that stalling was hopeless. “It's time to get some sleep, don't you think?”

His thumb grazed her lips. “Did your parents spank you?”

Stubborn jerk. “Mom did once or twice.” She tried to remember. “For running away once. For playing with matches.”

“That's normal enough. Your father didn't spank you?”

She shook her head. “He moved out before I turned eight.” Because she and her mother were fat and boring. Without thinking, she pushed Logan's hand away from her face.

His eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you physically?”

“I said no, didn't I?” She edged her hips sideways to turn more away from him.

With a grunt of exasperation, he used one heavy hand to flatten her on her back. “It was verbal, then. What did he say?”

“Listen, Logan,” she snapped. “I want to sleep, not play psychobabble games, okay?”

“Skinny,” he murmured. “I remember. Your daddy preferred skinny.”

She gasped, his words sliding like a knife into her heart.

“Uh-huh.” He wrapped an arm over her, sliding her more tightly against his warm body. His hand squeezed her hip gently. “Becca, your father was a blind asshole. I like you just like this.” He chuckled. “And I really like spanking curvy bottoms.”

The pain still lingered, but she relaxed slightly into his warmth. “Why did you ask me about spanking? Did you think I'd be pleased?”

“Sometimes physical or even mental punishment can revive old problems. You reacted like a pissed-off woman. I didn't see anything deeper, aside from you getting turned on.” His grin flashed. “But I might miss something important. And you need to learn to talk about your reactions, pet.”

He'd watched her that closely? Then again, why should she be surprised? He always did. She pursed her lips as something he said registered. “I wasn't turned on.”

“Oh, yes you were, or I wouldn't have been able to take you from behind without a whole lot more work.”

When his eyes crinkled, she could feel the heat in her face. God, turned on by a spanking? “That doesn't seem right.”

“People are all different.” He grinned. “I enjoyed putting you over my knees and walloping your soft ass. Watching it turn pink and feeling you squirm.” His hand brushed over her breasts, making her aware of how her nipples had peaked. “I could have chosen a different punishment, but I wanted to know how you react to pain within a sexual context.”

She glared at him. “Pain is pain.”

He pinched her nipple, and she felt the sting shoot straight to her core.

His eyes glinted with amusement. “Not exactly.”

Her face had flushed pink, her eyes dilating. What he wouldn't give to teach her more about pain and pleasure. And he wanted to delve deeper into those problems with her self-image, apparently originating from her asshole father. But he had no right to take this further.

In fact, considering his exhaustion, he should leave right now before he fell asleep. “I'm going to check something downstairs.”

Her hand slipped from his waist down his front, then wrapped around his rapidly reviving cock.

Talking about spanking her had definitely been a mistake.

Her soft pink lips curved in a smile. “Permission to assault, Sir?” she asked in a throaty voice. In a smooth move, she pushed him onto his back and wiggled on top of him, keeping her ankle raised. Opening her legs to straddle him, she slid down until her soft pussy pressed against his cockhead.

Well. He could always sneak away later. “Granted. Assault away.”