Master of the Mountain

Chapter Four

Rebecca's internal alarm went off a while before dawn. As she opened her eyes, she realized their positions had shifted during the night, so now she lay on her back with him pressed against her side. One of his hands cupped her breast, and even through her bra, the feel of his fingers sent a thrill through her. How weird. How wrong. She hated Matt's behavior with Ashley, and now she wondered what it would be like to make love with Logan.

Hypocrite. Then again, her relationship with Matt probably wouldn't survive this weekend, she realized with an aching pain. Nonetheless, getting out of this bed would be a clever idea. Ever so carefully, she moved Logan's hand and started to inch out from under his arm.

“I'm awake, sugar, so all those maneuvers aren't necessary.” His hand slid back to take possession of her breast again, this time easing under her bra to her bare skin. At the rough caress of his fingers, her nipple bunched up, and a spike of arousal shot straight to her core.

“Well, now,” he murmured, his thumb circling her nipple.

“Listen, I don't want-”

“No, your problem is that you do want.” He rolled over, and his weight flattened her into the bed. And oh, he felt incredibly good. She could feel her panties turn damp. Nudging her legs apart, he settled his hips between her thighs.

“Logan,” she whispered, “no.” She pushed against a chest as solid as a boulder, and as unmovable.

“Becca, yes. You owe me a good-morning kiss at least.” He added in a mock-serious voice, “I saved your life, you know. You could well have died out there.”

The faint light from another room played over his beard-shadowed jaw. Lines radiated out from the corners of his eyes, crinkling as she stared up at him. His erection pressed against the juncture of her legs, the only barrier her thin panties. When her hands splayed against his chest, the crisp hair couldn't disguise the rock-hard muscles beneath.

As before, coming up against his massive body, she felt feminine and soft and very tempted. “A kiss? No more.”

“It's a start.” He dipped his head to the curve where her neck met her shoulder. The arousing contrast of his velvety lips and the scratch of his morning beard wakened a flutter deep in her belly.

Her hands clutched his wide shoulders, and she didn't know whether to pull him closer or push him away. She shouldn't do this.

He solved the question by moving to her mouth, rumbling a laugh when she kept it closed. A sharp nip on her lower lip made her gasp, and his tongue plunged within. His kiss was skilled, experienced…and overwhelming.

The demanding thrust of his tongue made her think of other places he could be thrusting. Each time he moved, his cock bumped against her pussy, each touch like a spark of sensation. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as she tried to find her eroding balance.

His hand stroked her breast, his palm so big he could hold her fully. When he sucked her tongue into his mouth, an ache of need burned through her body. Slow, thorough, he kissed her forever, and by the time he raised his head, her fingers were buried in his thick hair.

Propping himself on an elbow, he fondled her breast. “When you took your shirt off yesterday, I had trouble keeping my hands off,” he murmured. His fingers circled her nipple and then rolled the peak. His eyes on her face, he increased the pressure until sparks shot down to her sex, and her lower half went liquid. The gentle stroke of his thumb eased the throbbing, and then he moved to her other breast.

Oh God, he knew exactly what he was doing, painting her like a canvas, each stroke deepening the intensity. “Logan,” she whispered, shivering as unfamiliar sensations rushed through her.

His hand stilled, pressing against her breast and holding her still as he studied her. “Too much?” he asked softly.

“I don't…” God, her body was flaming out of control, and she wanted his hands all over her. Wanted him inside her with an intensity she hadn't felt before.

No. She didn't have sex with strangers. She pulled in a breath, and the scent of him made her head spin.

“It's all right, Becca.” His next kiss was softer, less demanding, his hand on her breast gentled. Her body edged back into her control as the need died back to a simmer. A relief, but a tad disappointing. Her breathing slowed.

Leaning back, he regarded her with steel blue eyes. After a second, the intense gaze made her feel vulnerable. She started to sit up.

His hand between her breasts flattened her like a pancake, sending her pulse spiking. A thrill of excitement rippled through her body, and his eyes narrowed. “Not as vanilla as you look, are you?” His hand didn't let up, keeping her pressed into the mattress.

Her voice came out shaky. “What do you mean?”

His slow grin made her pulse stutter. Still between her legs, he grasped her hands and raised her arms over her head. Clasping her wrists with one big hand, he anchored them above the pillow.

“Hey.” She struggled, and his grip tightened. Arms stretched above her head, his weight on her hips… She couldn't move. Fear swirled through her, accompanied by a startling wave of heat. “Let me go.” Her voice came out husky.

“You want me to?” With his free hand, he shoved her bra up, and the elastic band caught on the rigid peaks of her nipples. He ran his finger around one puckered areola, then the other, and somehow they tightened even further. Her breath caught as pleasure rushed through her.

His fingers played with her breasts as his blue eyes focused on her face. “Just look at you,” he murmured. “All confused and excited.” His voice deepened. “You know, little rebel, with your hands restrained, I can do anything I want to you.”

Instinctively, she struggled. She got nowhere; his grip was unyielding, his strength immense. And each useless try shot another current of excitement through her, until her pussy ached with need. Panting, she stared up into his intense gaze.

He chuckled, then pushed her breast upward so he could take it in his mouth. Hot. Wet.

She moaned. The sound shocked her. What was she doing? She didn't even know him.

When she strained against his grip on her hands, he bit down carefully on her nipple. The sharp pain sizzled straight to her clit, hitting with a shock that made her clench inside. Oh God. She was drowning in sensation. In heat.

He licked the distended peak, his tongue hot; his breath cooled her skin, and then he bit again. Her back arched uncontrollably, pushing her breasts upward.

“Very nice, little rebel,” he murmured, switching to the other breast until both were swollen, her nipples tight and aching. When he sat back on his knees, she managed to breathe again. At least until she saw his gaze move down her body. Thank God the light was dim, but unfortunately not nearly enough to hide the size of her hips. Why did he have to see-

“I'm going to owe you a pair of briefs,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. Taking hold of her panties, he ripped one side, then the other, and tossed the destroyed fabric onto the floor.

“Hey!” she said indignantly, despite the thrill coursing through her at his action. Then she realized…if his hands were there, her arms weren't pinned any longer. She yanked her arms down and tried to sit up. He put a hand in the middle of her chest and pushed her back down. With a quick one-two movement, he snatched her wrists, clamping them in one hand again, resting them on her stomach.

He studied her for a moment, his free hand caressing one breast. “You're not ready for me to take you,” he murmured. “But we'll go a bit further down this path.”

Keeping her hands anchored to her stomach, he edged downward between her thighs. When he leaned sideways, he trapped her left leg under his waist. He propped himself up on his right elbow, using the same hand to restrain her wrists. With his knee, he pushed her right leg out.

“What are you doing?” She squirmed, all too aware of how he'd wedged her legs open. Her underwear was gone, her pussy unshielded.

“I'm pleasing myself, sugar. I like seeing a woman open and vulnerable,” he said, his gaze running down her body, stopping at the juncture of her legs. “But if you're not interested in continuing, we'll stop right now.”

His free hand slid down over her mound and touched her folds, then pressed against the betraying wetness. Oh God. She closed her eyes against the amusement in his face.

“That feels like interest to me,” he murmured. With one finger, he stroked down between her labia and back up to circle her clit. Each circuit increased the throbbing of the nerves there, and she could feel how engorged it was. His finger never slowed, never went faster. Never touched the nub where the need was most intense.

A thin whine escaped her, and her hips lifted.

“You can't push me to go faster, little one.” He gave a deep laugh. “In fact, you can't do anything at all; I'm going to finger fuck you until you come.”

Her breath caught at his words pointing out her helplessness. She strained against his powerful grip, and her inability to move started a shaking deep inside. She'd hated when Matt asked her for directions. This man wasn't asking at all, just telling her. Not even letting her move. As if her vulnerability had been the spark, her blood flamed through her veins.

“No,” she whispered. This was so wrong.

“Yes,” he whispered back. When she yanked again, he pushed a finger into her vagina, hard and fast. She gasped. The excruciating shot of pleasure devastated her senses, making her head spin. Her swollen labia throbbed as his finger slid in and out in a ruthless rhythm, until her vagina pulsed with him, until her insides tightened around the intrusion.

He didn't stop.

He added another finger, and she moaned. Even as the pleasure increased, the pressure built inside her, the intensity frightening. Her hips lifted, trying for more. Her legs quivered, straining against his unyielding body.

His thumb skated over her clit, gliding directly over it each time his fingers plunged into her. One stroke, and another and another. Her body coiled tighter and tighter as the burning torment continued.

When he paused, she moved-tried to move-only her wrists were trapped in his inflexible grip. She couldn't do anything, couldn't move.

His thumb rolled over her clit, and the climax exploded inside her like fireworks in the dark, blinding and deafening. Her hips bucked uncontrollably against his hand as a maelstrom of pleasure tore through her.

His fingers in her milked each spasm out; every flicker of his thumb over her clit sent another surge of ecstasy through her until she couldn't bear any more.

“Stop.” When she lifted her head, his fingers pressed deeper into her, and her head dropped back weakly.

“Oh, not quite yet,” he murmured. “You have another quiver or two in you.” His thumb brushed featherlight over the oversensitive nub. Her vagina clenched and rippled around his fingers.

He did it again.

“God,” she moaned.

He chuckled, easing his fingers out, and even that made her shudder. Still holding her wrists, he slid up beside her. “Very nice. I like that dazed look.” Putting his hand along her jaw, he tilted her head and took her mouth hard. Her head started to spin again.

And suddenly her hands were free. She blinked and looked up into his hard face.

His lips curved as he stroked his thumb over her cheek. “Damn, you're tempting.” With a sigh, he rolled over and swung out of bed.

Her body chilled without his warmth next to her, and she felt bare inside, as if he'd stolen her confidence. What had she done? She didn't know him, and she'd let him hold her down. Touch her.

Make her come more strongly than she'd ever come. She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Don't think about that. She'd had an interesting night and played around some. That's all this had been. And now it was morning and over.

Frowning at the shadowy ridges on her legs, she dragged the blankets to her chest. He must not have noticed her scars, thank God. She sat up, trying to ignore the limp feel of her muscles.

Over at a chest of drawers, Logan pulled out jeans and a shirt, totally unselfconscious about being naked. He looked even bigger without clothing on. All powerful muscle and a very large erection.

Guilt sliced through her. He'd given her an orgasm like she'd dreamed about, and she'd given him nothing. The thought of having his hands on her again made her nervous. Excited. Worried. How far would she go if he touched her again? But fair was fair. She'd gotten off, and he hadn't. “What about you?”

Obviously seeing her gaze on his cock, he walked back over to the bed. His blue eyes crinkled. “You have a soft heart, don't you? But we're done, Becca. I pushed your limits enough for one day.”

As he turned from her, she couldn't seem to find her voice, if she could have figured out what to say anyway.

He pulled on the jeans-commando-and a blue flannel shirt. “I'm going to let Thor out and do a quick check of the grounds. You've got time for a shower if you want to take one here. I doubt anyone else will be up for a bit.”

She knew he'd made the offer so she wouldn't have to go back to her cabin and see Matt with Ashley. The thoughtfulness made her eyes swim with tears. “Thank you. That's very nice of you.”

His grin was devastating, and she realized she hadn't seen him really smile before. He loomed over her and took her face between his big hands. “I've been called many things, but never nice. And if I see you all soft and pink in my bed much longer, I'm going to push you onto your back and take you in every way I can think of. So I'm leaving while I still can.”

His words and the image of him…taking…what he wanted heated her skin faster than a sauna. He tilted her head back and possessed her mouth instead. Deeply. Thoroughly.

The door closed behind him before she'd caught her breath.

Thor at his side, Logan stalked down the trail to the cabins. The freezing mountain air needed to work more quickly; his jeans were past uncomfortable and well into painful. He should have left before that last kiss.

But turning away at that point had been fucking impossible. The blankets she'd clasped had plumped up her full breasts and revealed the soft curve of her shoulders. Pale shoulders with tantalizing freckles. And her mouth had been pink and wet and swollen from his kisses. Christ have mercy, but what would those lips feel like around his cock?

Hell. He kicked a dead branch off the trail and increased his pace. Do not even consider taking her to bed.

She had a man already.

Not a good deterrent, he realized. Too tempting to snatch her away from the idiot. He needed a better reason to avoid her.

First reason: She was a city girl. Big turn-off. Look at her clothes. Wore a suit to a mountain lodge. Designer jeans. She didn't even own hiking shoes. From the look on her face yesterday, she'd never visited a mountain before, let alone a forest. Hell, she probably exercised on a treadmill in an air-conditioned health club rather than outdoors.

She lived in a city, and he had to live in the mountains. His nightmares ensured that, and ensured he'd sleep alone and stay alone. Even now, he felt the lack of sleep over the past two nights drag at him.

Aside from the physical attraction, they had nothing in common.

His mouth twisted into a wry grin. Pretty worthless deterrent considering that when he went to Dark Haven in San Francisco, he had no trouble thoroughly enjoying the city girls. And being a guy, he wouldn't blow off a nice physical attraction anyway. He'd enjoyed the hell out of having her warm, curvy body up against his all night and wouldn't mind repeating it a time or two, even if he had to go without sleep.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't be content to just hold her again. Not after having his fingers in her little wet pussy. He shook his head, remembering how her forest green eyes had watched him dress and then puddled up because he'd been nice to her. Hell, if she knew the dark things he wanted to do to her, she'd run screaming down the mountain.

He snorted, thinking of how he'd hidden the cuffs chained to the head- and footboards under the mattress. Would she have panicked if she'd found them? Probably.

Although many normal women enjoyed acting out a rape fantasy like this morning, real submission terrified them.

But what if Rebecca possessed more guts than the others? More daring? He envisioned restraining her arms over her head, securing the cuffs tightly enough that her breasts would arch up. Of teasing those soft pink nipples until she… Like hell. Shy, modest Rebecca indulge in kink? Not gonna happen.

And although he might play at vanilla sex a time or two, he wanted more. Needed more. And could easily get more. A competent Dom rarely lacked for partners. Yet he couldn't help but wonder what Rebecca's whimpers would sound like if he tied her down and teased her until she begged for release.

He scowled. She'd better stay away from him. If she didn't, he'd teach her things the swingers had never thought of.

Rebecca showered and dressed, wrinkling her nose at having to put on yesterday's clothing. Matt had better have that blonde…person gone by after breakfast or she'd pound the door in.

Coffee. She needed coffee before her brain would work. And she definitely needed caffeine before she thought about last night and this morning. Matthew. Logan. Sex.

Need coffee…

She walked down the stairs and checked the lodge. Someone-probably Logan-had built the fire up, and the warmth radiated through the room. Only three people remained, twined together on the biggest couch. The man lifted his head at the sound of Rebecca's soft footsteps, then shook the women on top of him. “You two are supposed to make breakfast, remember?”

“Hell with that. I'm sleeping in,” one woman said.

“If I try to cook, I'll puke, dammit,” the other woman whined. “Why did you let me drink so much last night?”

“Like I could stop you?” The man's head dropped back onto the arm of the couch. Sighs, grumbles, and then silence.

Shaking her head, Rebecca headed for the kitchen. Empty. She started the coffeemaker, leaning on the counter for support until she could coax a cupful out, then burned her mouth on the first few gulps. As the caffeine began to work, it seemed as if the world brightened from muted tones to the full spectrum of life as her brain sparked to life. No matter what historians claimed, BC really stood for “Before Coffee.”

After drinking another cup, she surveyed the possibilities for breakfast. The fridge held pounds of bacon, cartons of eggs, and butter. Potatoes in a bin. Flour and salt in a cupboard. She hadn't cooked for more than two people since her job during college, but no one forgot how to scramble eggs, and it gave her something useful to do.

And something to take her mind off last night. The memory of Logan's solid body seemed imprinted on hers. She scrubbed the potatoes and remembered how he'd pressed her into the mattress and kissed her, his cock jutting against her stomach. Would she have let him take her if he'd tried?

Her thighs pressed together over a suddenly throbbing clit. Why hadn't she been braver? Or less brave? If she'd been adamant about her refusal, he wouldn't have pushed, and she wouldn't feel so…sleazy and very embarrassed. And hot.

Dammit, why couldn't she have gotten interested in a swinger or two instead? They were not nearly as scary. What he'd done to her…pinning her arms down. The way he'd talked and watched her. She blew out a breath. Very exciting and very frightening in a way.

Finger fucked. What a term. And that was just what he'd done. Her insides quivered at the memory of his callused finger slick with her own wetness, sliding through her folds, pushing deep inside her. She had never come like that in her life. Ever. “Stop,” she'd told him, and “Oh, not quite yet,” he'd answered and just kept doing what he wanted with her body.

Matt's constant asking what she wanted in bed had annoyed her. Logan didn't ask, and her body loved it. That was absolutely the most frightening thing about this whole matter. She'd never considered herself a needy woman or a pushover, but she sure acted that way with him. So where did that leave her?

The sex…okay, totally awesome. The man…gorgeous. The possible consequences…not to be borne. No more messing around with Logan. If she wanted to explore kinky sex, she should practice on one of the good-looking swingers. One of the very available swingers.

She set the potato down in the sink and stared out the window at the surrounding forest. They were available, she repeated to herself. Available and all too willing to screw any woman in the place. Knowing that pretty much killed any attraction for her. With a huff of a laugh, she picked up the potato and resumed scrubbing. Monogamous “R” me.

Shaking her head, she remembered the fantasy she'd had before agreeing to try this weekend. Now that she thought about it, her fantasy hadn't included a multitude of men, but just one. Some man would come into her room. Maybe she would hesitate, and he'd grab her, pin her to the mattress, force her to cooperate. She scowled. That sounded like her morning with Logan. So what did that say about her?

Don't want to swing; do want to be pushed around? She bit her lip. Talk about politically incorrect, especially for a feminist like her.

As she grated potatoes, she considered her options for the rest of the weekend and came to one conclusion. Matt would simply have to take her home. She couldn't tolerate staying another night, watching Matt messing around, and dodging the other men. She'd made a mistake. Big-time.

Her lips curved. But this morning made up for a lot, even if it left her unsettled. And damned confused. He'd restrained her hands; why should that make her so hot?

Home. Time to go home, Rebecca. A twinge of guilt ran through her. Such a long drive. By the time Matt had taken her home and returned back here, the day would be gone.

Nevertheless.

She put the potatoes on to fry and whipped up some drop biscuits before putting the bacon in the oven. She smiled as the fragrance filled the room.

Serena and Greg wandered into the kitchen, looking fairly cheerful.

“I'm starving,” Greg said, shoving his wire-rims up on his nose. “I thought there'd be food by now. Weren't Ginger and Amy supposed to cook today?”

“They're a bit under the weather,” Rebecca said lightly. “And I'm an early riser.” She tucked the biscuits in the hot oven with a satisfaction that she hadn't felt in a long time. Cooking just for herself never seemed worth the bother.

After flipping the hash browns, she started cracking eggs. As she counted in her head, she heard something scratch at the back door and then a low whine. The eggshell shattered in her hand.

Greg headed for the back door.

“No!” Rebecca's pulse started to race. “No dogs in the kitchen.” Ever.

“He just sits right there inside the door,” Greg said. “He always gets to come in and-”

“Absolutely not.” Rebecca glared at him until he gave up.

“How do you know how much to make?” Serena asked. “I've never cooked breakfast for more than four before.”

Rebecca wiped off her hand, then poured in some milk. “I worked my way through college cooking in a fraternity. The frat mom grew up on a ranch in Texas, so I learned country cooking.” Thank you, Maybelle. She seasoned the eggs and then frowned. “Did I see cheese in the fridge?”

A second later, a block of cheese appeared on the counter. “Thank-” Her voice stuck in her throat as her eyes took in the hand holding the cheese. Dark tan, scars along the knuckles. Powerful and strong. She knew how easily those hands could pin a woman to the bed. Her stomach fluttered as if host to a wayward bird. “Thank you.” Hauling in a bracing breath, she looked up.

His cheek creased, and his eyes crinkled. “You're welcome, sugar. It smells good.”

Surely the heat in her face came from the oven.

Logan ran a finger down her cheek, moving closer until his chest brushed against her breasts. Her nipples tightened almost painfully as if they remembered his touch. As if they ached for more.

Bending down, he murmured, “Those pink cheeks, little rebel, make me wonder what you're thinking about.”

Before she could think of anything to say, he tugged on a loose stand of hair and left the kitchen.