Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am (20 page)

He leaned his hip against the car door. “Nope. You’re here. Now you stay.”

“You didn’t… I didn’t mean to just barge in.”

He gave her a hard look. “Be quiet. You’re staying.”

Her unhappiness drifted back a few feet. Being with Sam would be nice. Her house was empty. Silent. “I… Okay.”

“Good answer.”

“How about I cook you dinner to make up for my being an idiot?” What kind of extra-special dessert could she concoct for him?

“Works for me.” He nodded at the dog. “That’s Connagher. Conn”—he slapped Linda’s leg—“this is Linda. Linda. Linda.”

The dog rose, sniffed her leg, and wagged its tail.

Sam glanced at Linda. “He keeps track of people. Comes in handy when I want to find a field hand.” He tugged on the dog’s ears. “Now, say hello to Linda.”

The dog barked once, then gave her a canine grin. She bent to pet him. Interesting appearance. Medium-short, rough fur, stocky body, ears that drooped at the tip. His frame was smaller than a lab’s but similar. “What kind of dog is this?”

“Basic hound. Called a mountain cur.” He ruffled the fur on the dog’s neck affectionately. “They’re working and hunting dogs. Helped settle the Appalachians.”

“Huh.” She smiled as she straightened. Conn was like Sam: hard body, no frills, no particular charm, but tough enough to do whatever he had to do.

Sam put his hand on the small of her back, a circle of warmth in the cooling night, and guided her around the side of the house. In the front, the drive made a circle, enclosing a splashing fountain and landscaping plants. Through the twilight, she could see the shapes of farm buildings. Farther out, white fencing divided up dark pastures and ended at a line of trees.

The white, two-story farmhouse was probably mid-last century but well kept. A wide porch held a hanging swing and Adirondack chairs. He took her up the steps, across the porch, and through a heavy front door with an arched stained-glass window.

In the small entry, he helped her off with her white wool coat and hung it up. As he tossed his jean jacket onto a hook, then pulled off his boots, she had to shake her head. As a teen, she’d adored cowboy movies. Sam Davies was like a fantasy come true.

When he jerked his chin toward her high heels, she removed them before following him into the family room.

“Oh, this is nice.” An interior wall had been removed, letting the huge room flow into the dining area. The pale cream paneling lightened the heaviness of the brown suede sectional couch and chairs. A dark hardwood floor gleamed under a faded Oriental carpet. The entire room was designed for comfort, right down to the small fire crackling in the massive stone fireplace on the right.

When Conn flopped down on the hearth with a sigh as if he’d battled all day, Linda grinned.

Sam ran his hand up her back. “You’ve had dogs?”

“Oh, always, until… Well, the last one died a few months ago.” Her heart wrenched. “He was old. And it was good that he didn’t…he wasn’t…” Wasn’t there to be left alone after she’d been abducted.

Sam squeezed her shoulder in wordless comfort, then left her to walk into the kitchen.

Unsure what to do, she curled into a corner of the oversize couch. “I can’t stay long.”

“Don’t you have tomorrow off?” He reappeared with a glass of wine for her and a beer for himself.

“Um.” She took a tiny sip of wine, pleased he’d paid attention to her schedule. But she couldn’t stay…could she?

He dropped down beside her and put his arm along the back of the couch. Just as when they watched movies at her place, his fingers curled over her shoulder, pulling her closer. “Relax. You don’t have anything or anyone to worry about here.”

No neighbors, no spray painter, no newspapers or rude reporters. Paradise. She took a bigger drink. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I feel as if I pushed my way in.”

“If I didn’t want you here, I’d say so.”

Bluntly instruct someone to go home? Yes, he’d probably do just that. She stared at him.

“What?” He curled her hair around his finger.

“I just realized how honest you are. Even to the point of being rude.”

“What’s the point in lying?”

Note to self: never ask this man if a dress makes me look fat
. But such honesty was oddly freeing. She could relax, knowing she really was welcome. And she’d never have to wonder if he had agreed to something just to be nice.

His hand curved over her shoulder, and he frowned. “You’re knotted up.”

“Bad day.”

“I’ll trade you back rubs.”

A back rub? She really could use one.

“Hang on a minute.” He walked out of the room, returning with a jar of coconut oil.

“You had a bad day too?”

“Not like yours. Got in a hay delivery, and the bales are heavy.” His eyes crinkled. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“I’ve heard that happens.” All too soon. At least redheads didn’t go gray as quickly as brunettes. Her sister had colored her hair for over a decade now.

Sam motioned to Conn. “Move, dog.”

With a disgruntled look, Conn trotted off to lie in the entryway.

Sam tossed a quilt from the back of the couch onto the floor, then pulled Linda to her feet. Efficiently, he stripped off her blouse and bra, taking a moment to fondle her.

Arousal speared downward so quickly she made a sound. Who knew that standing in a room half-naked and having her breasts handled could be so hot?

Smiling, he gave her a slow, thorough kiss. “You’re goddamned tempting, you know. Especially these.” Her breasts sat comfortably cupped in his palms.

She liked her body, but compliments like that made her feel all warm and fuzzy. After taking another kiss, he pushed her to lie facedown on the quilt.

On his knees, he straddled her, resting his jean-covered butt on hers. After warming the oil, he started off with long, easy strokes up and down her back. Her eyes slid shut as his greased hands moved over her shoulders. “Ooooohhhh. More.”

He huffed a laugh and continued. When she’d melted right into the blanket, his fingers started to massage each muscle, one by one, working their way up her back. When he reached her tight shoulders, he traced around a taut place. His thumb came down on the knot…and kept pressing harder. She squeaked as the hurting grew.

“Breathe through it, girl.”

Ow, ow, ow
. More of his weight settled on her butt, pinning her to the blanket. She fought for a breath, took another slower one, before his thumb lifted. As blood rushed into the area with a flood of warmth, she realized the knot was gone. But still… She glared over her shoulder. “That hurt.”

He winked. “Best part of giving a massage.”

Damn sadist.

He found three more places to torture her with, but by the time he was through, she was incredibly relaxed and turned on as well. Whenever he forced her to take pain—more than she wanted—it had the same effect as if she’d swallowed an instant arousal pill.

Before she could move, he reached under her, unzipped her slacks, and dragged them and her thong right off.

“Hey!”

“I prefer my masseuses to be naked.” He stripped off his shirt, set her to one side, and took her place on the quilt.

She could only laugh and take a perch on his very hard ass. After the coconut oil warmed and liquefied in her palm, she rubbed it over his back. Heavens, just look at him. Broad shoulders, lean musculature, and a tan that showed he sometimes didn’t wear a shirt outside. After massaging his shoulders, she worked her way down. To make any impression in his rock-hard flesh, she had to really work at it.
Massage, the newest aerobic exercise
. When she reached his low spine, the muscles on each side were like concrete. “Here’s where it hurts, huh?”

“Yep. Push as hard as you can.”

She edged her bottom back, put all her weight on her palms, and pressed slowly upward. His pleased rumble made her glow inside. She repeated the movement, over and over, but all too soon, her arms tired.

“Up you go, girl,” he said, obviously feeling her weakening strokes.

She rose.

He followed and stretched. “Much better. You’re good at that, missy.”

The compliment warmed her. “Thank you. You too.”

With a light laugh, he pulled her forward, rubbing his chest on her breasts and taking her lips in a hard, hard kiss.

“Now for the more enjoyable part.” He pointed to the quilt. “Lie down.”

“More?” She gave him a puzzled look, then dropped to her knees.

“Uh-uh. On your back.”

Feeling uncomfortably exposed in the bright firelight, she complied. But how come she was naked and he got to keep his pants on?

As his gaze wandered over her, he smiled, probably enjoying her flush as much as her nakedness. But when he said, “You’re a beautiful woman,” the temptation to smack him one disappeared.

He straddled her again, planting himself on her upper thighs, and scooped up more coconut oil. First, he worked on the small muscles in front of her shoulders, in the hollow under her collarbones, and her upper arms. She hadn’t realized those areas could get so tense until he’d turned those muscles to happy noodles.

Then his eyes grew half-lidded when his hands started to oil her breasts. He massaged the underlying pectoral muscles and started to play. With his gaze on her face, he pulled at her nipples, then pinched lightly. Harder. He rolled each peak between his thumb and forefinger, increasing the pressure until she made a sound.

“Hurts?”

“Yes, darn you.”

“Good.” He squeezed harder.

As the pain grew and heat bloomed in her core, she moaned.

Delight lit his eyes. He didn’t stop.

“That’s too hard.” She reached up to push him away.

“Did I hear your safe word?” He grabbed her wrists, set them above her head, and anchored them in his fist, then continued torturing her breasts with his other hand.

His grip was too tight, hurting her, and he was pinching her nipples too hard. When she started to squirm—half with pain, half with arousal—he only laughed, continuing until her breasts felt incredibly swollen and throbbed.

As he rose to his feet, he gave her a stern look. “Don’t move from where I put you.”

Needing to rub the ache, she lowered her arms, and received a stinging slap on one breast.
Ow ow ow
. Tears filled her eyes as she hastily put her arms back in place.

His eyebrows lifted. “Safe word?”

Pain was rolling through her, yet…despite her tears, she loved it. Her body flamed with arousal. The very roughness he showed her created shivers deep in her belly.

His lips quirked. “Guess not.” He stripped out of his remaining clothes, and she was mesmerized by how the firelight flickered over his body. He had the tight, flat butt and great legs of a horseman. His shoulders rippled with muscle—from lifting hay bales? He sure didn’t get his physique from a gym. It was a treat to see him in the light.

His cock was fully erect and seemed just like the rest of Sam—straight, solid, potent. Veins curved around the rigid shaft, inviting a tongue to trace them. Her fingers twitched, wanting to touch.

He pulled her legs apart and knelt between them. After positioning square cushions on each side of her hips, he bent and pressed her knees to the pillows, opening her to his gaze. With his hands on her thighs to keep her in place, he looked down, studying her private areas with a slight smile.

Maybe all this light wasn’t so wonderful. He was embarrassing the heck out of her, and she squirmed in response.

His grip tightened on her knees. “Stay put.”

She froze obediently, but his frown continued. After a second, he took two coasters from the end table and balanced one on each knee. “If one of these falls because you move, I’ll whip that pretty pussy.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” A crease deepened in his cheek as he ran a finger from her knee down to her groin, making her muscles quiver. He nodded to a wooden crate beside the couch. “I just finished making a short, softer flogger. A coaster hits the ground, and I get to try it out.”

“You wouldn’t.” She really, really remembered the paddle he’d used. But a flogger?

“Oh, I would.” He slid down until his mouth hovered over her, and his breath wafted against her mound. “I like blindfolds on submissives, but I think you might not enjoy that.”

After being a slave? “No, Sir.”

“Then you’ll blindfold yourself.” He lifted his chin, his voice darkening. “Put an arm over your eyes, girl.”

A shiver ran through her, but she closed her eyes and buried her face in the angle of her elbow.

“That’ll do.” He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Gave her nothing to listen to.

In the silent room with only the sounds of the crackling fire—and her pulse in her ears—she waited. With each second, the air grew thicker, her skin more sensitive. Her nipples had bunched so tightly that they throbbed with each beat of her heart. “Sam?”

“No talking, moaning, screaming. Use your safe word if you need it. Otherwise no noise. Got it?”

Afraid to say anything, she stayed silent, and his chuckle was low and definitely sadistic.

But despite—because of?—his rules, she felt liberated. During sex, she always worried she wasn’t responsive enough, that she should moan or wiggle or talk more. But Sam had removed that worry. She wasn’t to do
anything
.

His hands curved under her bottom, the palms hard, the thumbs stroking in the crease between her hip and pussy.

Her instinctive jump made the coasters wobble, and she stilled immediately.
Don’t move
. When he squeezed her ass cheeks mercilessly, his strength was frightening—and shockingly erotic. He shifted his weight and pulled back, leaving her buttocks aching.

Don’t move. Don’t speak
. Her thoughts fragmented until only anticipation remained. When his breath warmed her flesh, her stomach muscles tightened.

He licked up and over her pussy, and as his velvety, wet tongue curled around her clit, she barely smothered a whimper. She was so, so ready. He focused there, licking and teasing, until every slide of his tongue brought her closer. Heat streamed through her, hotter than the warmth from the fireplace.