My Liege of Dark Haven

Chapter Twenty

As the chimes rang through Xavier’s house, Abby hurried to open the door. Yesterday she’d asked Rona over. Forgiven or not, Abby feared she’d damaged their friendship. She swung the door wide. “Hi—”

“Hey,” Lindsey said from where she stood beside Rona. “I asked if I could tag along.” Her smile was tentative. “I don’t want to lose you.”

With a huge sigh Abby hugged them both. “Thank you for coming.” She blinked back happy tears.

“Don’t you start leaking, or I will too.” Lindsey’s eyes reddened.

“Right.” Abby motioned. “Come on in. I made éclairs so we can get a sugar high.” As she entered the living room, the puppies started to whine.

Lindsey spotted the tiny heads peeking over the edge of the wading pool. “Oh my blessed Jesus, look at them.” She dropped to her knees beside the pool.

As her streaky brown hair fell forward, the puppies took it as an invitation to play, jumping and trying to grab the curls. She laughed and lifted Tippy. “Aren’t you just the sweetest baby?” she crooned, cuddling the brown ball of fur.

“Want a dog?” Abby asked.

“More than I can say, but I just signed a lease for a new apartment.” She wiggled her eyebrows hopefully. “I’m moving in a week, if y’all feel like carting boxes around.”

“No couches or beds to carry?” Rona asked. She crouched beside Lindsey and picked up Freckles.

“No. Where I’m living now was furnished, so I’m fixin’ to buy furniture for my new place. Finally.”

Abby joined the other two on the floor. Blackie’s tail wagged furiously. “Hey, snookums.” Puppy breath and a deadly fast tiny tongue and squirms and wiggles. “You are the sweetest baby.”

“Oh, they all are.” Lindsey chose Blondie. “Isn’t it going to break your heart to let them go?”

“It’s hard,” Abby admitted, smiling down into soft black eyes. “It’s worse when one grabs you, like this one.” She planted a kiss on his fuzzy nose. “Maybe it’s because his eyes are the same shade as Xavier’s.”

Rona laughed, then gave Abby a keen look. “If you’re falling for a puppy because of a resemblance, I’d say you’re also falling for the man. And you are living here now, aren’t you?”

“I’m not falling. Absolutely not.” The thought sent a chill into her stomach. “I’m just here because I wanted to know about the Dominant/submissive stuff, and he needed help around the house. That’s all.”

“The sacrifices a woman makes. You probably don’t even like him, huh?” Rona said in a dry voice.

“Fine. I like him.” Oh heavens, she really did. She looked up to see understanding expressions on both faces. “More than I’m comfortable with, especially after Nathan. Being around him is like being on a roller coaster. He comes in, and I feel all bubbly inside. When he uses that Dom voice, the bottom drops out of my stomach and my knees go weak.”

Rona laughed. “I know what you mean.”

“I wish I did.” Lindsey sighed. “I had the loverly bubbles when I first got married—for a little while, at least. I’ve had that sinking feeling from a few of the Doms. Never both together.” Lindsey cuddled Blondie close. “So you don’t figure Xavier is permanent?”

“Get real. He’s my liege. Rich, powerful, gorgeous. I teach college students, trip when kneeling, and my butt’s so big I could use it for a serving tray.”

Rona raised her eyebrows. “Xavier lets you run yourself down like that?”

“Ah.” Abby flushed. “No.” The last time she’d complained she had a fat ass, he’d given her one of those frowns and then…

“Oooo, Missy Red-Face. Tell us what happened,” Lindsey demanded.

“He simply said he liked my ass.” Abby gave in to the expectant expressions. “And if I called it fat again, he’d turn it a pretty pink.” Then he’d stripped off her jeans and shown her exactly what he meant. The feeling of being over his knees, of his hard hand on her bare bottom, had been so humiliating and so…intimate…that she’d never be able to explain it. “He seems to think he needs to help me overcome stuff. Like I have some horrible background.”

“Did he really put it like that?” Rona asked.

“Well. No.”

Rona gave her a smug look. “I didn’t think so. He obviously likes the way you look—and who you are. Honey, he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

Really? Abby realized Blackie had squirmed out of her arms and was exploring. Tiny and defenseless…yet so brave. His ears were forward, his body eager for what experiences the world had to offer.

When did I turn into such a coward that I’m scared to leave my own wading pool?

XAVIER OPENED THE door to the sound of laughter and had to smile. Simon had mentioned Abby’d invited Rona over, and that Rona had been delighted. Now he knew why she’d been nervous today.

But the little professor hadn’t told him. That was a disappointment. Anything that affected her emotionally should be shared with her Dom, but she kept herself so guarded that it worried him.

Then again, neither of them had been in this kind of awkward situation before. The slaves he brought home had always known there was a time limit and they’d leave once he found them the right Master.

He and Abby had set no time limits. Neither of them wanted anything serious. Not at this point. She was learning how to please him; he was learning her vulnerabilities and where he could help her become stronger. That was enough for now.

The door to the patio was open, and the women and puppies were outside in the patchy sunshine. As he headed past the living room toward his study, he saw the iced tea glasses on the coffee table and a plate with éclairs. The rope the pups used for tug-of-war lay on the floor next to Abby’s sandals. Not clutter, but signs that someone lived here.

He turned in a circle, realizing the house felt alive.

Catherine had loved the Old West and had decorated with rugged, dark furniture, rough tables, Western paintings, and crafts. The style hadn’t quite matched the building’s elegant lines, but neither of them had cared. When she’d died, he couldn’t stand seeing her favorite furniture, and a decorator had changed everything over to a light, contemporary look.

He hadn’t realized how cold the house was until pieces from Abby’s home appeared. Her plants had been rescued when she found she didn’t get back often enough to water them. A giant schefflera in a hand-painted ceramic pot brightened one corner. Ferns in wrought iron stands softened the foyer. Parsley, chives, and thyme were in small terra-cotta pots on a kitchen windowsill.

Now every time she went to her duplex she returned with touches of convenience and beauty. A glazed earthenware bowl was on the dining room table, filled with fruit. A dark-red porcelain stand held umbrellas by the front door.

Apparently her archeologist father had taken his family with him on digs, and after graduating, she’d used his life insurance money to travel overseas every summer, shipping home whatever delighted her. Tapestry pillows from Belgium, as comfortable as they were bright, were in the corners of the sofa and chairs. An Italian cashmere throw lay over the back of a chair.

He walked into his study and smiled at the rounded lines of the Middle Eastern leather ottoman she’d brought over, hoping he’d keep his ankle up on it.

She was quite the traveler. Would she enjoy having company this year?

Abby tried to snuggle down into the covers, but Xavier’s hands ran up her body. Firm, confident, and unstoppable. A hard cock pressed against her stomach. He was awake.

“Don’t want to get up.” It couldn’t be much past dawn. All weekend she’d frantically worked to finish analyzing her observations. She still had more literature searches to do and only ten days until she had to submit the article. And now her time would be filled with end-of-term school matters—exams, essays, projects—and handing in the students’ grades.

A low chuckle sounded in her ear as he stroked her breasts. “But you’re going to anyway.”

Her nipples tightened to hard peaks; warmth flowed downward. She looked up into his molten dark eyes, saw the line of his determined jaw, and went from sleepy to wet and aroused. How did he do that?

He kissed her shoulder and bit it.

The sharp pain woke her completely. Excited her completely. At least until he set her onto her hands and knees and slid into her from the rear.

My liege’s favorite position. Because he didn’t want to see her face. Because he didn’t want to remember she wasn’t his beloved Catherine. Her resentment was followed by a wave of unhappiness, and her hands clenched. She buried her face in the pillow…so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

He stopped moving. “What’s wrong, Abby?”

Not a thing except I’m not your dead wife. “Nothing.” She kept her hips up and available to him, even though her interest had died the minute he’d flipped her over. “Keep going.”

“Nothing?” His voice had turned to clipped ice.

Her body stiffened. He was angry.

As if to prove the point he pulled out and rolled her over. His mouth was tight, his face cold. “I dislike lies, pet.”

She flinched. Her hands made an abortive gesture toward covering her ears, to keep her from hearing him yell. Only…she’d never heard him yell.

He swung a leg over her, straddling her—an appallingly efficient way to pin her down. “Look at me, Abby.” Although the hardness was gone from his expression, the displeasure remained. His long black hair swung loose as he leaned over her.

As she met his shadowed eyes, her heartbeat echoed through her hollow chest. The Tin Man should have been grateful for the emptiness; hearts only caused pain.

“In vanilla relationships, honesty is important. In BDSM, it’s essential. Even with as much experience as I have, I’m not a mind reader.” His accent came through clearly, making him sound almost like a stranger. He touched her chin with one finger. “What are you feeling?”

“Nothing.” She felt her emotions trying to pull back inside to safety.

Another sigh. “What does your stomach feel like?”

Didn’t he ever give up? “Tight.”

“Chest?”

“Tighter.”

He lifted her hand to show her the fist she’d made and then ran a finger over her compressed lips. “One more time, what are you feeling?”

“I’m mad.” Everything inside her flinched in anticipation of his response.

“There we go. Was that so difficult?” He eyed her and answered his own question. “Apparently it was. How do you manage if you can’t tell someone you’re upset? Say it again—like you mean it—and add who you’re mad at.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me. Now.” No anger in his voice. No expression: not warm, not cold. The emotions here were all hers.

Her stomach churned. Considering he was sitting on her, she wasn’t going to be able to run. “I’m angry.” She managed to add a little force…enough to terrify a mouse. What was wrong with her?

He lifted his eyebrows.

“At you.” It came out just past a whisper.

No yelling. “Again.”

“I’m angry at you.”

“You sound as if you’re giving me month-old stock market news. Again.”

Insulted, she scowled at him. “I’m angry at you.”

A smile flickered on his lips. “Very good, pet. Again—and this time tell me why.”

No. She felt herself try to retreat into the mattress.

“It doesn’t help to know you’re mad at me if you don’t say why.” He had a jaw like granite to go with his obstinate nature. “Now, Abby.”

“I’m angry at you.” Okay, those words came easier. Louder. The next, not so much. “For…for…” Her fingernails dug into her palms. “For turning me over.”

His brows drew together not in anger, but confusion. “You don’t like that position? I thought…” His eyes narrowed. “You have no trouble saying when I go too deep. Or if nipple clamps are too tight. That you hate the cane. Why would you have a problem telling me this? What am I missing?”

She felt an embarrassed flush rise into her cheeks. “It’s nothing.”

He pried her hand open and kissed the knuckles. “If you knew I was unhappy, how would you react if I wouldn’t tell you why?”

Her mouth opened. Closed. She’d feel horrible. Her imagination would offer up every possible thing she might have done wrong. She’d be afraid to do anything for fear of making his unhappiness worse.

She had discovered a heady freedom with Xavier because he didn’t hide his feelings. If he disliked a movie or a food or…anything, really…he’d tell her. Or he’d bargain with her, trading something he didn’t enjoy—a chick flick—for equal time doing something he preferred and she didn’t, which was how she’d ended up playing pool last night.

He wanted the same honesty from her. Deserved it. Her lips quivered. “I… It hurts that you don’t want to look at my face. That you see hers. And—”

“Hers?” He looked utterly baffled. “Catherine’s? You think I turned you over because of that?”

He was making her sound stupid. Furious, she yanked her hand away from his and pushed at his shoulders. Shoving her hips up, she tried to buck him off.

He leaned forward and pinned her wrists beside her head.

“Tu es stultior quam asinus.” Oh, she didn’t have words to say how she loathed him.

“I’m dumber than an ass?” Laughter lit his eyes before disappearing. “Perhaps so, since I imagined everything except this reason.” He kissed her gently. “That first night with you—the reason I left so quickly was because I didn’t see her face, just yours, and it worried me how much pleasure I received from watching you. That has never changed, little fluff.”

Oh. Her eyes stung with tears.

“I still have things to work through from losing her, but I don’t think of Catherine when I’m with you, Abby.” He frowned. “You still need work on vocalizing your emotions, though.”

She shook her head. “Nothing like getting yourself a damaged submissive. Maybe you should—”

“Damaged?” He stroked her cheek, his calloused hand strong. Dependable. “Hardly. You’re an incredibly strong woman, Professor. But no one grows up without collecting some emotional wounds and then creating defenses around them. At this point in time, yours mostly focus on anger and mine on losing Catherine.”

She lay still beneath him. He’d called her strong. Not damaged. “You Doms love to fix things, don’t you? Even people.”

“Ah, you’ve figured us out.” His fingers laced with hers, although he still kept her pinned against the mattress. “Doms have defenses too, you know.” He considered. “A scene for you—a sub—is like lancing an abscess. Opening it. Applying healing ointment.”

Painful example, but…yes, she could see that. “And Doms?”

He rubbed his beard-roughened cheek against hers. “Tending a sub’s needs fills something in a Dom, balances him so he is able to look deeper into himself. You’re the crutches after spraining an ankle.”

The thought of helping Xavier, of being his balance, felt good. The relationship wasn’t all one-sided, and he wasn’t perfect. “Then why did you want to have sex like…”

“Why did I turn you over?” His eyes crinkled. “We both have to go to work today, and I plan to fuck you first.” He released her hands and cupped her breasts. “And I really want to play with all my favorite pieces at the same time. Doggy style allows that.” He gave her a lethal smile. “You, pet, get off much quicker when I can reach your clit.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Well.”

“It’s that simple, but I’m glad we talked.” He moved down to lick her breast, then sucked on the nipple hard enough to make her toes curl. “However, if you want face-to-face, and I want my hands free, you’ll have to do the work this morning.” Gripping her waist, he rolled them over in bed, positioning her to straddle his hips. Her pussy rubbed against his cock.

She leaned forward to run her hands over his chest. So smooth with hard, contoured muscles beneath the skin. His flat nipples were dark and tantalizing. His stomach was like a washboard where she could travel the ridges. Moving back onto his thighs, she delighted in how the skin strained over his erection. Tracing a fat vein with her finger made his cock bob. He wanted her. She cupped his balls, always surprised at how heavy they were.

Wiggling her way back up, she rose to take him in, but he shook his head. Uh-oh. His face had taken on that Dom look. How could he be on his back and still radiate enough authority to make her insides quake? She swallowed.

“Lift up and off of me.”

She obeyed.

When her pussy was off his cock and in the air, he pushed her legs farther apart, opening her. “Hands locked behind your back. Eyes on mine. Don’t move. Don’t speak.”

With his gaze fixed on her face, he reached down and touched her, sliding his finger over her clit. His touch was enough to send heat rushing through her. Eyes half-lidded, he watched her as he pushed his finger into her vagina, then slid it up to the nub of nerves. Circling, teasing. She felt herself swell and harden as the pressure grew inside her.

He traced lines up and down her labia and around her entrance before returning to her clit.

As she trembled, his hard finger rubbed her, demanding her response. He brought her to the edge, over and over, until his intent eyes and touch blurred the surroundings, until her need filled her world.

Finally…finally, when her legs were shaking uncontrollably, he held his cock up to her pussy. His finger never stopped circling her clit, drawing her to the very point and holding her there. “Down. Now.”

Her trembling legs gave out, and she dropped onto his shaft even as he pushed up with his hips, sliding in with one hard thrust.

Swollen tissues stretched; nerves fired. Her back arched as everything—everything—gathered inside. His calloused fingers bracketed her swollen clit, teasing both sides at once. The cascade burst, flowing in massive waves outward, shaking her convulsively and flooding her with pleasure.

While he was deep inside her, joined in the most intimate way possible, he reached up and cupped her cheek. Even as she realized his gaze hadn’t once moved from her face, he said softly, “I see you, Abby. Never think otherwise.”