His Wicked Love

by Anya Summers

  “I saw your face, Em. Did you honestly think I was leaving after that?” he asked, pulling her into his arms.

  “Yes,” she murmured against his chest as he cuddled her.

  He tilted her face up to his, his gaze direct, and said, “Not going to happen. You’re stuck with me now.”

  Oh goody.

  She sighed sleepily against his chest and nodded. Contentment settled over her, wrapped up in his arms as she was with his chest acting as her pillow. When he brushed a soft kiss against her forehead, she felt the reverberations of it clear down to her toes.

  Oh yeah, she hadn’t just fallen for the land, she’d fallen for the man too. She was too limbless, too brainless after tonight to worry about the implications. She snuggled, inhaling his spicy masculine scent, and slipped off to sleep.

  Chapter 19

  Emily and Mason eased into a rhythm over the following week. When they weren’t working, they were either at her cabin, but more often than not, at Mason’s house. And more importantly, in Mason’s bed.

  Emily liked his house. She enjoyed cooking in the kitchen. She envisioned herself putting pots with fresh herbs in the window. And Mason and Cole had started joining her for late night dinners. She liked the hominess of it. Loved seeing the delight cross their faces, even from something as simple as chili.

  As the days passed, she found herself falling further in love with Mason, the way he took care of her. Just last night she’d come home from a fourteen hour shift on her feet to a hot bubble bath and spectacular foot massage. Mason had incredible thumbs. And he’d not stopped with her feet, either.

  Emily spent a day in Jackson, visiting businesses. She had sold twenty booths for the Oktoberfest. Hunt Trail Rides was donating pony rides for the kids. Plus they were going to do riding demonstrations. The Teton Cowboy was donating beer kegs, along with a mechanical bull sans the naughty part. And she had been able to get a discount on tables and chairs for their outdoor event from Garrett. Spencer had put her in touch with Jackson Stone, an officer with the Jackson Hole Police Department—and a member of their club. Jackson was going to help out with parking and make sure that they had crowd control.

  Flyers had been put up around town. And tickets were selling—more than she’d thought they would. Enough that they might have to cap the event. She nearly tap danced over it.

  But celebrations would have to wait until after it was a rousing success. There was a ton of work to accomplish between now and then. Emily drew up a menu for Oktoberfest, gathered the recipes she wanted to do and did a trial run with each one, adding and subtracting ingredients until she felt they were perfect. She worked tirelessly with Tibby and Faith to ensure that they overstocked on ingredients. She also taught them the recipes because, starting next week, they were going to start making the dough for the pretzels, forming them and then freezing them until the night before.

  And then there were the cooking classes. She tinkered with the recipes she wanted to teach and made lists of ingredients and cooking tools they would need to have on hand.

  Spencer, bless the man once again, had come through and promised to loan her a few of his line cooks and wait staff to help man the booth and meet the demand on the day of the event.

  Emily was beginning to see the benefits of the club. It was like a country club or church, but naughty. It wasn’t just a place where the members got their rocks off. They did, and then some. But they also came together to help each other out. They were friends and confidants. Now that she was a member, Tibby and Faith had been a font of information about what it meant to be a submissive. Tibby had even given her some things to try with Mason. Emily smiled at the memory. Those tidbits had been so hot, both she and Mason had been limp noodles afterward.

  And she was thrilled at the way Mason showed her something new every night, whether it was a new to her position, some of the different types of bondage—which she had to admit she adored—or some new sex toys he introduced her to. Emily had always thought she was worldly and knew sex. But Mason proved how little she’d known, how sheltered she had been, and how, under his hands, she could experience more pleasure than she had ever thought possible. Her breath caught just thinking about all the wicked ways he loved her. She couldn’t get enough of him. She was enjoying every minute of her training, learning to listen to her body, craving the way Mason touched her.

  She sighed against the hollow of his neck where she’d buried her face. She was straddling his lap, his shaft still penetrating her. His chest was partially bare, enough that her nipples were abraded by the hair covering his chest. Emily didn’t want to move. All she was doing was delaying the inevitable. There was work still to do today. Mounds of it. But she adored the way Mason held her after sex. As hot and as dominatingly alpha as the man acted in every sector of his life, the intimate tenderness from him was unexpected. The way he held her close, his face leaning against hers, a hand splayed over her lower back, holding her in place while the other pressed between her shoulder blades bespoke of softer emotions, of care, and it thrilled her.

  Even though Emily knew she needed to move and get up off his lap, figure out where he had tossed her bra in their haste, she couldn’t seem to find the energy.

  They weren’t fooling anyone at the lodge anymore either. Everyone knew their ‘meetings’ in Mason’s office weren’t really meetings. Yet she didn’t want to move from his lap after their latest bout, even though she knew the registration clerks, along with her sous chef and line cook, were laughing about it.

  It was mainly because her legs were still the consistency of tapioca pudding. Mason, for all his gruffness and pure mule-headed stubbornness at times, seemed disinclined to let her up.

  On Monday, they’d added the information for the week-long cooking excursion up on the website. It was a beginning.

  “Didn’t we have some actual work to get to today?” she asked, her words muffled against his chest.

  He lifted her face up and gave her a heart-stopping grin. “We’ll get around to it eventually.”

  Her body softened. Need hummed in her veins. How could she want him again? How could she need him again so soon after? She’d thought surely by now one of them would start getting tired of the other. But that hadn’t happened. Each day, each time, she fell for him more. As much as she craved the wicked passion when they touched, she loved the way he held her afterward, the way he cared for her. It made her feel important—cherished, even.

  When she shifted to try and move off his lap, his hands cupped her rear, holding her in place.

  “Not leaving so soon.”

  “Mason, we have to get some work done today. With Oktoberfest picking up steam, I have final orders to place on supplies and I want to go over the menu again.”

  “I have complete faith in your abilities. The week-long cooking excursion booked up in forty-eight hours. You’re a genius,” Mason said, kissing her. Her body stirred as she returned his kiss. She couldn’t get enough of him. Always, he kissed her, and she was a goner. Caught up in him.

  “About time you realized that,” she said, running her hands through his hair. She’d knocked off his hat when he’d first pulled her onto his lap.

  “We should go to the club,” he said, leveling his caramel gaze at her. At the thought of being naked in front of people other than Mason, she winced and all the air clogged in her throat.

  His gaze darkening, his hands kneaded her rear. Tendrils of heat re-ignited within her. He stated, “You’re ready, Em. And this is part of my world, part of being my sub. I promise you we will plan our scene beforehand so you will know exactly what to expect. I’d like to claim you here, finally and, I will be there with you every step of the way.”

  His fingers grazed over her back channel and she moaned. Who knew that she’d enjoy anal play? Certainly not her, but he’d been showing her with butt plugs all week just how incredible it was and how hot it got her.

  Although, as much as she was willing to go there, she was worried abo
ut having an audience. “I know. I trust you, it’s just a little daunting. I mean, I’m going to flash everyone my naughty bits.”

  “I happen to love your naughty bits,” he growled, shifting his hips so she could feel him. She bit her lower lip as desire swamped her. It was heady. It flooded her. She wanted him. Again. So soon.

  “We have work to do,” she said feebly. Her mild, half-hearted protest sounded weak, even to her ears.

  Mason stood with her in his arms and laid her down on top of his desk. His hands caressed her form, whispering over her spread thighs as he leaned over her. Nipping at her chin, he said, “We can work later. Much later. I need you, Em. I always fucking need you.”

  Consternation and desire warred on his handsome face, like he was just as perplexed by his constant desire for her as she. Emily didn’t know why but it made her happy to know she wasn’t alone in this quagmire. That what she felt for him, the all-encompassing need that left her flummoxed, was reciprocated. He was right there with her.

  “Well, you’re the boss.” She moaned as he slid deep inside. Her back arched. Pleasure ricocheted as he thrust. Emily wondered if a body could expire from too much pleasure.

  He flashed her a grin suffused with wicked intent. “That I am.”

  And then he proceeded to show her in, exact detail, just how much he was the boss. Again and again.

  Chapter 20

  Mason showered alone that morning. It was the first time that week. But not before Emily had blown his mind, and his dick, before sliding out of his bed. He couldn’t get enough of her. She’d fast become an addiction.

  And she wasn’t having any problems adjusting to the lifestyle. In fact, the more layers he peeled away, the more he began to see that she had the heart of a true submissive. She might be determined, intelligent, and independent, but she also held nothing back from him in the bedroom.

  She was eager to please. Open to experiment. She wasn’t much for pain. Didn’t care for being flogged at all. But she also didn’t shy away from experimentation. She’d met each new challenge head on. And she had been honest with him regarding flogging.

  He smiled at the memory. She’d indicated with her hand vised around his cock that she would break his thing off if he ever did that again. Mason wasn’t a hardcore sadist so it wasn’t a loss in his book. He thoroughly enjoyed disciplining a sub. With her aversion to flogging, he’d just have to get creative with her punishments. Although she didn’t seem to mind spankings. And there had been quite a few, since her mouth always seemed to fly off the handle at him. He gave her freedom outside the bedroom, because with her personality, she’d never take orders or follow his commands well. In the bedroom, that was another matter entirely.

  As he rinsed the suds off his body, he did wonder at times if she mouthed off just to get him to spank her. Their coming together after a spanking always seemed a bit hotter, a bit more out of control, a bit more everything.

  They would see how she did that evening at the club. He’d been working with her all week, doing some anal play, stretching her back channel. Tonight, at the club, he planned to take her there. Claim her that way in front of the other Masters.

  He knew what it meant, even if she didn’t. And he knew she was uncertain about the scene—and, in some respects, about him. That was his fault because of their rocky beginning and the way he had treated her. But after tonight, his claim on her would be rock solid.

  He was so fucking possessive where she was concerned. A part of him wanted to keep her completely to himself. Not show her off to the rest of their little club. But he knew, deep down, he needed to. After everything he’d been through these last few months, he felt parts of himself return with her every gasp, her every moan and every silken flutter of her pussy around his dick. Claiming her like this would be a balm to his soul and soothe his battered pride. It was selfish of him.

  Emily was unlike any sub he’d been with thus far. Mason wanted her, not just in his bed, but his life. He couldn’t seem to go more than a few hours without touching her, without needing her. Even the other night, they had sat on the porch swing and stargazed. Emily had wanted to watch the promised meteor shower and that’s what they did, with her curled at his side, her head on his shoulder. There was a comfort and pleasure in just being with her. She’d fallen asleep against him like that. He’d watched her for a bit, snuggled against him, knowing she taken up residence inside him, and he’d begun to hope.

  It had scared the shit out of him, if truth be told. Not that he was running away from her, because she was the best damn thing to happen to him in a long time, maybe ever.

  He’d been on his own for such a long time, never committing to any one sub. But Emily had fast become the focal point in his world. It was daunting how much she’d come to mean to him in such a short time period.

  Mason shuffled down the stairs. He was impressed with the way she was handling the Oktoberfest event for the following Saturday. The woman had been born to organize events. He truly hadn’t expected it to be successful. That was on him, mainly because he’d been viewing the world rather negatively. But he admired the way Emily had recruited members of the club to donate time and resources, the booths she’d sold to some of the local businesses, the number of tickets already sold for the event that already covered the cost of hosting it. Anything else they brought in was all surplus toward the lodge. Mason breathed easier seeing returns coming in, both for Oktoberfest and for the cooking classes.

  Not that anyone could blame him for his doubt, not after what Claire had done to the lodge. Any time he felt himself almost confessing his feelings for Emily, he remembered the mess his life had become because of Claire and the words stalled on his tongue. He cared for Emily, deeply. She made him smile. And with every throaty moan, she was returning pieces of his soul he’d believed lost back to him.

  Every time he loved her, he saw his feelings reflected in Emily’s eyes. She cared for him too. He believed that, or he wouldn’t be claiming her as his submissive in the club this evening.

  It was a first for him. It was a huge step. That should be enough, for now.

  The hope she engendered in him of creating a permanent bond chased away the darkness that had settled in his soul these last few months, and he understood claiming her tonight was only the first step.

  Cole was at the kitchen table, dressed for the day in his fishing gear, sipping coffee, and munching on one of Emily’s biscuits. They were buttery, flaky, melt in your mouth with a hint of honeyed sweetness, yummy goodness. He and Cole had fought over who got the last one a few times this past week.

  “Morning,” he said to Cole and poured himself a cup of coffee. Again, Emily. Mason didn’t know what she did to it, but the way she made coffee… Hell, he was sunk, and falling further every minute where she was concerned.

  “You and Emily seem to be getting quite cozy. She was here again last night,” Cole murmured.

  Guilt assaulted Mason. He glanced at Cole, regretting that he’d made the promise in the first place. He replied, “I know. And I realized I promised that I wouldn’t get involved with her, but there’s something between us, Cole. Hard to describe, other than I have feelings for her. I’m claiming her at the club this evening.”

  Cole’s eyes widened. “It’s that serious then?”

  “It is. I didn’t expect this, expect her to matter, but she does,” Mason admitted.

  “I get that. Just be careful. I like Emily, quite a bit, in fact. I think she’s great for this place. But you need to be careful, both for your sake and for our business. Jackson messaged me that Claire made bail yesterday,” Cole informed him.

  “She what?” Mason replied. That bitch got to roam free while their business limped along because of her. She should rot in prison, not be given a shred of leniency.

  “Yeah, apparently her family is loaded,” Cole said with a furious shrug.

  Her family had money? Mason tried wrapping his brain around that little factoid. It was yet another it
em she’d hidden from him while she’d been here. What he couldn’t understand was why she had done it. Especially if her family was loaded and could afford the substantial amount for bail.

  With everything they had on tap to bring this place back from the brink of collapse, this was the last thing they needed. “Shit, we don’t need her anywhere near this place. The restraining order is in effect.”

  “I realize that. But we will need to be vigilant, what with the Oktoberfest event a week away,” Cole replied.

  “Fuck. What timing!” Mason muttered, pacing, wanting to punch something. He couldn’t allow himself to blow a gasket.

  “We’ll take it as it comes. She can’t come here without getting arrested. Jackson’s going to try and tail her as much as he can, keep an eye out,” Cole added, his demeanor cool, which only infused Mason’s anger. How could Cole be so calm? Nothing ever seemed to rattle him, whereas Mason had been knocked off his axis and had yet to regain his balance.

  “Jackson can’t be everywhere. We should let Alex know to be on the lookout. The rest of the club too. Just in case,” Mason said. Even with all the fallout and devastation she’d wrought, there was still more Claire could do. If she let it slip that they were part of a secret lifestyle club, posted it on social media, in the review sections on travel websites, or even here in town, the consequences could be utterly disastrous.

  It almost made him want to abort his plans with Emily for that evening. Almost being the proper word. If he caved and acted out of fear of what might happen, that bitch would win. She’d already taken enough from him that he wouldn’t give her the goddamn satisfaction.

  “Tell only those who need to know to keep an eye out,” Mason said.

  “And what about Emily? You going to tell her?” Cole asked, leaning back in his chair.