My Liege of Dark Haven (31 page)

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.”

Chapter Twenty-One

On Tuesday afternoon Abby hugged her mother and Grace and motioned them into Xavier’s house.

“What a beautiful home,” her mother said, turning in a circle. “I love the stonework everywhere.”

“It’s pretty, isn’t it? Grace, the puppies are outside.” Unsettled at having her family in Xavier’s place, Abby led the way to the long stretch of patio in the back.

“Hey, you can see the Golden Gate and Angel Island.” Grace slowed long enough to check out the bay before making a quick dash to the puppies.

“It’s a spectacular view at night.” Abby followed her sister to the small “kennel” that Xavier had contrived on the side lawn. The babies liked being outside when the weather was nice.

The fog had cleared, and sunlight sparkled off the waves far below. The scent of the dark-red roses mingled with the brine in the air and charged Abby with energy. Or maybe it was the way Xavier had woken her early in the morning, with sweet kisses and slow sex.

He’d told her that “rough sex” was for other times and places, and mornings should be loving. Of course, he wasn’t prepared to let her sleep either. Sex might be leisurely, but it was also determined. Burrowing back into the covers sure hadn’t worked. A shiver of heat ran through her at the memory of his firm grip as he’d clipped her wrist cuffs to the headboard. Now she knew why he made her wear cuffs to bed.

When she’d demanded that he leave her alone, he’d tilted her chin up, staring into her eyes as he thrust—
slid
—into her easily. Smiling, he murmured that if he ever found her not aroused, then he’d let her sleep. Since just the sound of his voice made her wet, she had a feeling that sexless mornings were a thing of the past.

“This place is amazing. I didn’t realize a professor made this kind of money,” her mother said.

Abby winced. Today—or soon—she needed to tell Mom that she and Nathan had broken up. And that the house belonged to Xavier.

Thank goodness, he wasn’t home today.

Her mother settled on the edge of the patio and picked a happy puppy out of the pen. As it wiggled and licked to express its delight, she laughed and looked at Abby. “You and Nathan must be getting along very well if he’s keeping your puppies. Or are you living here?”

“Ah…”

“She’s living here—but not with Nathan.”

Abby spun.

Xavier stood in the doorway. He’d taken his suit coat off and loosened his tie, looking fully at home as he walked outside.

“You must be Abby’s mother.” He leaned down to shake hands. “Xavier Leduc.”

Even her mother wasn’t immune to his devastating smile, and she smiled back. “Carolyn.”

“Leduc Industries?” Grace asked. When Xavier nodded, she gave him a wide grin. “I invested in your company in my economics class. You made me a lot of fake money.”

Xavier laughed. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

Her mother shot Abby a look that said she had some major explaining to do.

I should have hauled the puppies over to Mom’s
. Her parents and Grace had—thankfully—been on vacation since the Fourth of July. How was she supposed to explain what had happened? Let alone how she’d ended up living with Xavier?

She glanced at him and realized he was watching her, his eyes slightly narrowed. She pulled on her professorial cloak of confidence and told him, “Grace talked my parents into letting her have a puppy. After doing research on cockapoos, she thinks she wants one.”

His smile was a caress. “Sounds like intelligence runs in your family.”

“Well, just the half that came from Mom,” Grace said. “Good manners too, for that matter.”

“Grace!” Her mother straightened.

Scowling, Grace walked away.

But Abby had seen the tears. She made a motion to her mother to stay put and followed.

Holding a puppy, Grace stood with her back to the patio and stared at the bay.

Abby put an arm around her. “What’s up, sweetie?”

“Janae. She’s such a bitch.”

Not good. Grace never swore. “What did she do?”

“I’m dating Matthew.” Grace flushed. “You met him last year when you came to the basketball game. He brought you a soda, right?”

Long and lanky with an attempted mustache, he’d been both smart and courteous. “I remember.”

“Well, I asked him over when we got back yesterday. We were going to watch the new
Men in Black
. Only, Janae came over.” The scornful, hurt expression looked wrong on Grace’s freckled face. “She…she made a play for Matthew.”

Abby stared, an ugly feeling arising. “She’s thirteen years older than you two.”

“Yeah, well, that didn’t seem to matter.” Grace nuzzled the top of the puppy’s head. “Matthew was, like, weirded out. She was all over him, touching and everything.” Grace batted her eyes in one of Janae’s flirtatious mannerisms and said in Janae’s coo, “
Oh, Matthew, does basketball give you shoulders like that?
”

Abby closed her eyes. She remembered too well how effective her stepsister’s techniques were. Abby’s few boyfriends had fallen quickly. “Where were Mom and Dad?”

“Outside on the deck.” Grace sighed. “I thought about telling them, but Mom wouldn’t do anything. And Dad thinks Janae’s his sweet little girl, and she’d make it look like I was just jealous.”

“I’m not sure what to tell you.” Abby’s method of hiding her head in the sand hadn’t solved anything. Yet the thought of confronting Janae—or anyone—made her insides shrivel into a hard ball.