Uncharted Territory (The Compass Series Book 3)

by Tamsen Parker

  When Ben pulls away, Rey offers him a short nod, and Ben retreats. Rey draws me in closer. “Mr. Vaughn has requested the pleasure of your company in the library.”

  Holy shit. My annoyance has turned to weak-kneed breathlessness and then panic. I can’t go see Hunter by myself. I’ll never come back.

  “Don’t worry. He knows you’ll be chaperoned.”

  A mix of relief, disappointment, but mostly anticipation settles in my stomach. I’m getting called up to the big leagues. Hunter Vaughn wants to see me.

  After saying a quick hello to a man I don’t recognize, Rey excuses us and leads me down a dark wood paneled hallway. He’s been to the library before. He doesn’t bother knocking before pushing open the heavy door, and I find myself in a beautiful room full of more dark wood, the smell of well-loved leather, and books. Lots of books. Walls of books. I could spend days in here.

  But my attention is drawn to a figure rising from a leather couch in front of a sizable fireplace. It’s Hunter. I was worried my memory of him was faulty—that I’d imagined him to be more attractive than he really is—but I erred in the wrong direction. He’s even better looking than I remembered, and my lips part when I lay eyes on him. Since our last encounter, Rey’s told me Hunter is thirty-two, not the mid-twenties I’d thought. Not only is he handsome, but he exudes this raw confidence, arrogance, almost entitlement, that turns my insides to molten lava.

  It doesn’t help that his clothes are just what I like. I can’t get enough of men in suits. I’ve never liked bad boys. Screw the leather jackets and ripped jeans—give me the prep school guys who wear ties and blazers. I wish I could live in the 1940s when the suit was the default. But this…this is not a default. He’s wearing a charcoal grey suit, another spotless white shirt, and a green tie. The tie is a nice color on him, but I’m distracted from my sartorial reveries by the boys starting to speak.

  “Rey.” Hunter greets him coolly, extending a hand that Rey takes while responding. “Hunter.”

  They look to be having a stand-off. It entertains me, but I don’t dare show it. I’m on my very best behavior because I not only want to impress Hunter, I don’t want to embarrass Rey. After a few more seconds, they release their grip and Hunter eyes me. “I hear she’s coming along nicely.”

  “I think so.”

  “I wanted to offer my services. I know there are some elements of her training that you may be unable or at least…reluctant to provide yourself. I thought I might be able to help you out with that.”

  “That’s very considerate of you, but there’s nothing she needs that I can’t give her.” It’s true that Rey doesn’t like women. Well, not like that. He adores women otherwise, but so far his lack of interest hasn’t been a problem. Rey knows his way around a woman’s body better than any straight man I know. And Hunter’s insulted Rey, which I don’t take kindly to. “I don’t remember you finding any fault with Melissa.”

  “Was she one of yours?” Hunter’s tone is casual, although he knows the answer. “She turned out nicely. I didn’t mean to imply…”

  “I think you did, so why don’t we just cut to the chase. What do you want?”

  “You know what I want.”

  “Why don’t you spell it out for me, Hunter? I can be quite dim sometimes.”

  Hunter looks annoyed, but volunteers, “I want first crack at your little pet.”

  “And what makes you think I’d give it to you?”

  “She likes me.” Hunter shrugs, the casual gesture at odds with his formal dress but spot on with his easy imperiousness. “And you have a habit of spoiling your charges. You’ll let her have whoever she wants. I’d be good to her. You don’t have to worry about me being too rough, I can be civilized. When it suits me.”

  “And it suits you now?”

  “It does.”

  “Why?”

  “Look at her. I know you can’t entirely appreciate what you’ve got here, but really, even you can’t be oblivious to her charms.”

  “I’m fully aware of her charms. All of them.”

  A vein running alongside Hunter’s temple becomes more prominent. Dammit, Rey, I thought we were going for inflamed, not enraged. Please, please, please don’t screw this up for me. Please.

  Rey must have some kind of bizarre ESP because he looks contrite. “I’m sorry, that was rude. And distinctly unchivalrous. Give us a minute?”

  “Take all the time you need.” Hunter slides a hand into his pocket and walks to a wet bar in the corner, keeping his back to us although I don’t doubt he’ll be listening for every single syllable.

  “It’s up to you. Do you want to play?”

  “Is he safe?”

  “Meticulous. I promise you wouldn’t be here if he weren’t.”

  I hesitate. My next question has the potential for a great deal of awkwardness, but after everything I’ve talked about with Rey, done with Rey, I can’t imagine he’ll blink an eye.

  “Can you stay?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s not weird?”

  “No. That’s part of the deal. You tell me what you need, and I give it to you. Anything you don’t want to do?”

  “I don’t want to have sex.”

  It’s prudish of me, but I can’t shake the notion it’s supposed to be special. Not that I’m a virgin, but I’d like for my first time as this new India to mean something since the three minutes in Eric Buchanan’s linen closet didn’t. Or the five in Nate Clarendon’s boat house or the… Never mind. This is hot—like really, ridiculously, unimaginably hot—but I wouldn’t call it special. Rey doesn’t so much as blink.

  “Anything else?”

  “Just what we’ve talked about before.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that tonight.”

  I press my lips together. “Then, yes, I’d like to play.”

  “I’ll let him know. Go stand in front of the fireplace, you’ll look divine. Do as you’re told, use your safewords if you need to. I know you like him, but don’t forget rule number one.”

  “I never have to do anything I don’t want to do.”

  “That’s right. Now, be a good pet, and run along.” Rey cups my face in one hand and pulls me in to kiss my forehead.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I take up my spot in front of the fireplace, cast my eyes down, and wait.

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  Year One

  “Look at me.”

  I raise my eyes to Hunter’s warm brown ones. I’m glad he’s letting me look at him. I find the no-eye-contact thing disconcerting.

  “Take off your dress.”

  I do as I’m told, without hesitation, and when I’ve peeled myself out of it, I lay the dress over the arm of a nearby chair. The warmth of the fire licks at my naked skin as I stand before him in my collar, barely there undies, and high shoes, clasping my hands behind my back. He looks relaxed, sitting on the brown leather couch with an ankle crossed over a knee, one arm draped over the back. As if telling someone to take off their clothes and having them do it is something that happens to him every day. It probably is. I’m not sure if that excites or disappoints me.

  “Come here.”

  I start to walk, but he holds up a finger. I freeze, placing my hands once again behind my back.

  “On your knees.”

  Pleasure as visceral as electricity sizzles through me and it makes it hard to breathe. I drop to my hands and knees and start toward him. The sizzle has deepened into a throb of neediness in my core. Not only do I want this—badly—I need it. I need him. Rey’s had me crawl before—it brought me more pleasure than I’d like to admit—but there’s an added dimension because Hunter isn’t my teacher. Knowing that this is making him want me, crave me—it’s transcendent.

  By the time I reach him, I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been, more than I thought was humanly possible. Until he says “Good girl,” and then I might expire from wanting.

  “Turn toward the win
dows.”

  This leaves me on hands and knees with him gazing at me from the side. His eyes run over me from head to toe, and I can practically feel them catch on the jagged scar on my lower back but he doesn’t say anything about it. I hope he’s not finding me lacking. He uncrosses his leg, lays a single finger just below my collar, and trails it down my spine to the waistband of my undies and then back up before gathering my hair that falls nearly to the floor and draping it over my far shoulder.

  “You’re very pretty, baby.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He runs the back of his knuckles over my cheek, and my lids sink, heavy with the pleasure of his praise.

  “Eyes open until I tell you otherwise, unless you want to be punished.”

  My eyes fly open and my lips part.

  “And mouth closed. I see Mr. Walter still has some work to do with you.” He nudges my chin with a knuckle. “You’re just brand-new, aren’t you? It’s almost sweet. But don’t let it happen again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  My heart is pounding hard and my breathing is heavy, although I’m trying to keep as quiet as possible. He lays two fingers on me this time, running them once again down my back. When he gets to my waistband, he taps his fingertips twice. I’ve started studying a series of cues with Rey, but this hasn’t come up. Who’s to say they’d be the same even if it had? So I guess and slide my knees wider. He taps me again, so I repeat, spreading my legs still further apart. I feel open and exposed and my breath comes faster. He slides my underwear over my hips and leaves them there. What is he going to do?

  I don’t have to wonder long. He slips a finger inside of me, and I gasp. It’s quickly withdrawn, followed by a hard slap to my ass.

  “I said mouth closed. Next time it’ll be two. Behave yourself.”

  “Yes, sir.” I’m barely keeping my voice steady. I’m not hurt—although there’s a warm stinging sensation where he’s hit me—just…scattered. I’m feeling so many things, and it’s difficult to process while it’s all still happening. Like Hunter sliding his finger into me again. This time I’m not surprised, only desperate. I keep still and silent as he slides in and out and am rewarded.

  “Much better.”

  I keep my cool until he adds a second finger. A small moan escapes my lips followed inexorably by the withdrawal of his fingers and two sharp smacks to my behind.

  “One step forward and two steps back? I don’t mind playing that way, although you’re going to be quite sore awfully quickly. It’ll be three next time. I expect you to be still and quiet. Can you manage that?”

  His tone contains impatience, as do his fingers as they push back into me. It makes me want more than anything to please him, to give him what he wants, to not disappoint.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  He continues his delicious torment in silence, making me desperate to keep the noises I want to make at bay. “Do you like this, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I thought so. I’ve never had anyone be so aroused so quickly. You’re soaking wet, and I’ve barely touched you. It’s delightful.”

  I nearly swoon under his approval, but manage to keep myself under control because Hunter doesn’t seem like one to tolerate swooning. He works at me for another minute before he withdraws. I see out of the corner of my eye that he brings his fingers to just below his nose before taking them into his mouth. Holy shit—did he just do that? But the answer is yes, yes, he did. I barely have time to recover myself before he’s thrusting into me again. It takes every ounce of willpower I have to not meet his forays with my hips. It’s another minute before he stops, slides my underwear back up.

  “Sit on your heels facing me. Hands behind your back, eyes on me.” When I do, he commands, “Open your mouth.”

  I blink at him. What?

  “That’s three. But first I want to watch you taste yourself.”

  His hand comes to my jaw and he squeezes, forcing my mouth open, pushing the fingers that have just been inside of me between my teeth. At the pressure, the potency of an invasion so intimate, something inside me liquefies, and I struggle to keep my lids from sinking.

  “Suck. You taste good, I promise.” I hesitate, and he tsks at me. “That’s four more. I’m going to enjoy this, but I’m not sure you will. Now suck. I won’t tell you again.”

  I run my tongue over and around his fingers. While I don’t know I’d agree with him wholeheartedly that I taste good, it’s not an objectionable flavor: salty and slick. His fingers underneath my wetness have their own distinct taste that I prefer, and altogether, this is oh so hot. I want desperately to close my eyes, but I won’t. I’m already up to seven, and I don’t relish the idea of getting twelve. Or do I? I like the heat left in the wake of his last scoldings. But I’m sure I’ll screw up again before this is over. No need to pad my stats.

  “Stop.”

  I release his fingers and his hands leave my face. I note with pleasure that I have, absentmindedly, kept my hands clasped behind my back. He takes my chin between his fingers and turns my head from side to side, studying me.

  “Your eyes are two different colors.”

  “Yes, sir,” I confirm, blinking, doing my utmost not to look away.

  “They used to say that was a sign of being a witch, did you know that?”

  “Yes, sir.” I did know that. I’ve heard them all. This one in particular trips my fight-or-flight reflex. Despite my efforts, my breath is coming hard, and it’s not because I’m turned on.

  “I’d never believed that before now.”

  I’m not sure how to respond to that so I stay silent, on high alert, my muscles tensed until my brain makes the call. I don’t like where this is heading and I’m right to be suspicious.

  “Are you a witch, baby?”

  “Hunter!”

  I’d forgotten Rey was here, and now I’m glad I asked him to stay. Tears are pooling in my eyes. My insides are being crushed by panic. I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s not that this never happens—it happens more often than you might think and I’ve learned how to laugh it off while screaming inside—but I’m nearly naked and I’m overwhelmed.

  “Red.”

  *

  Several things happen in quick succession when I safeword. Hunter yanks his hand away like he’s been burned, and his face falls into baffled alarm. Rey appears from the back wall he’s been leaning against, taking his jacket off as he hurries toward me. In seconds, he’s by my side, laying his coat over my shoulders. I start to cry.

  “Get out.”

  “Rey, I—”

  “I said get out.”

  “I’m sorry, Kit.”

  “Hunter, please,” Rey says more mildly, holding me tight and starting to stroke my hair.

  “Of course. Take as long as you like, no one will bother you. I—” he starts, but thinks better of it. Instead, he leaves, shutting the heavy door behind him.

  “You’re all right, kitten. He wasn’t going to hurt you.”

  Now that Hunter is gone, I’m covered up, and Rey is holding me, murmuring comforting words into my hair, I know that’s true. Nothing other than Hunter’s words had set off alarm bells, and there’s no way Rey would ever let anyone harm a hair on my head. But it didn’t feel that way a minute ago.

  “I should’ve stopped him sooner, I’m sorry.” Rey continues his soothing prattle until I’ve stopped sobbing. “Do you want to go home?”

  “Yes.” I’m too raw to go back out to the party, and my private audience with Hunter is clearly over. Not that I could look him in the face right now. Or ever again.

  “Will you be okay if I get your coat? There’s a door in the back we can leave through so we don’t have to walk through the main room.”

  “Yes, that’s fine.” I pull away from him to see that I’ve made a mess of his white shirt. It’s streaked with eye makeup, lipstick, and tears. “Oh, jeez, Rey, I’m sorry.”

  �
�No worries.” His tone is casual, but I know people will be staring when he goes out. He always looks flawless and having bawling wannabe submissive smeared all over his pristine shirt doesn’t make the grade.

  He stands up and offers me a hand. Rey gives me one last hug and, when he lets go, smooths some hair out of my face and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

  I collect my dress, slipping Rey’s coat off and tugging the scrap of fabric over my head. To my surprise, he’s back in a minute flat. There’s no way he had enough time to get my coat, but there it is in his hands along with what looks like a white dress shirt.

  “Hunter is the consummate host.” Rey unbuttons his soiled shirt and slips into the crisp clean one. It’s the slightest bit too small for him, but it’ll do. He holds my coat out for me to shrug into. When I’ve cinched the belt tight around me, he takes my hand.

  The driveway seems longer than it did on the way in. It takes forever to get back to the car. Humiliation has a way of stretching out distances, and I’m glad that at least my walk of shame gets to be played out in private. The debauchery in the house is still in full force, and I doubt anyone will be leaving for hours.

  When we’re on our way back to school, I say, “Well, that was an unqualified disaster.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I thought you did beautifully for your first time out.”

  “He punished me, Rey.” And that was before I had a nuclear meltdown.

  “Because he wanted to. He was being awfully picky with you. Did you mind?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. And a good thing, too, because he’s always going to find some fault with you. But the quiet and still—that will come with practice.”

  “Yeah, he’s never going to want to practice with me again.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  I roll my eyes and sink into the soft leather of my seat. Yeah, a newbie who safewords and bursts into tears when you call her a witch is everyone’s idea of a dream sub. I stare out the window, watching the white and yellow lines of the road disappear as we coast over backroads. Maybe Rey is like those delusional pageant parents on reality TV, so enamored of his creation he can’t see the hot mess everyone else does.