Master of Mine: Masters of Haven Book One

by Dark, Raven

  Saturday morning, Gwen’s phone awoke her too soon. She groaned looking at the clock. Archer had left earlier for his class, and the bed felt too big without him there after all night in his arms.

  The ringing stopped. Then it started up again and she sat up. The first flicker of alarm slithered through her. Only the stalker called in quick succession, usually when he didn’t get an answer.

  Gwen snatched up the phone. “Hello.” She hated the tremor in her voice.

  Nothing but air.

  “Hello.”

  Faint breathing reached her ear. Frustration coiled in her and she bit back the urge to give the creep a piece of her mind. No need to antagonize the psychopath. She hung up.

  The phone didn’t ring again, but she knew better than to think he had left her alone. She hadn’t heard from the stalker since the letter he’d sent after her breakup with Archer. Considering how closely he’d watched her then, he had to know they were together again. Archer had only left an hour ago. It couldn’t be a coincidence he was calling now.

  Gwen picked up the phone to call Archer’s number but put the phone down. It would only worry him. But she wouldn’t break off her relationship with him because of the stalker either. She wouldn’t let him win that way.

  The phone’s shrill ring filled the room and she tensed, closing her eyes. When would this end?

  One thing was clear. He knew she and Archer were together, and the creep would make sure she paid for it.

  * * *

  Sunday night, while Archer was at an evening class, Gwen opened her computer, half expecting to find a nasty letter from the stalker. Instead, an email from Archer popped up in her inbox.

  Her heart lifted. The heading made her grin.

  Friday night’s scene. Memories of the way he controlled every moment of the scene, the way he made her feel both ravished and cherished all at once sent ripples of heat dancing along her nerves. She’d thought Archer was built for ravishment, and she was right.

  She opened the message and read.

  Couldn’t resist checking on my victim. Had a fabulous time inside you, sweet thing. Can’t wait to do it again. I’ll think about you when I jack off tonight.

  A.

  A huge grin spread across Gwen’s face. The last line sent desire licking at her core. Archer wouldn’t spend the night with her every second week when he had Sunday classes, but they’d remain in extended scene until Monday morning.

  Victim. She snorted. The message probably wasn’t sent with the intent for her to reply, but she couldn’t resist.

  I had a good time too, Sir. Wish it hadn’t gone by so fast. You really know how to make a girl scream.

  She wished she could have made it sexier, told him what she liked, what she wanted him to do to her, but Gwen had never been good with dirty talk.

  Biting her lip, she hit send.

  Seconds ticked by, and she wondered if he’d already signed off.

  Her inbox dinged. Gwen’s heart quickened. She opened the reply.

  I’ll show you an even better time next week, little one. Won’t be so nice this time. Would you like that?

  Would she? God, he had to ask? Images of all the cruel, dark things he could do to her raced through her thoughts. She tapped her fingers on the keys, contemplating how to reply. This time, sexier, naughtier.

  What will you do to me next time, Sir? Are you going to make me do things to you?

  Whoa. She blinked at her own response. Archer must have triggered some dirty gene in her.

  Is that what you want, Gwen? You want me to make you do things?

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  Yes please. Sir.

  Her hands shook as she hit send. She’d never engaged in sexting. Would she sound silly or lame?

  A few seconds passed before his reply popped up, a single line.

  Take off your panties.

  Gwen’s muscles coiled deliciously. He didn’t waste any time, did he?

  Wait, Sir, aren’t you suppose to be in class? This is highly inappropriate, Master Archer.

  I don’t give a shit, Gwen. And you know better than to use my name. Panties off, or the next time I take your ass.

  An image of him in that dark gi and black belt filled her mind. She imagined him waiting in his back office for his students and sneaking in a little nasty talk with her while he got hard as a rock. A mixture of concern and arousal swirled in her, confusing and intense.

  She sighed and stood up, slipping off her skirt and panties. Then she sat back down, squirming on the cold leather chair.

  They’re off, Sir.

  Good girl. I almost wish you’d kept pushing, though.

  Spread your legs.

  Gwen smiled. He had to work for it.

  We can do this when I see you again. Have fun in class.

  Seconds ticked by. Had she pushed too far?

  Ding.

  Go ahead, sweetness. Be a brat. See if you don’t end up across your table with my cock up that sweet ass the next time I see you.

  Gwen bit her cheek. Somehow without seeing him or hearing his voice she could feel she was wearing on his patience. If she pushed again…

  She moved forward on the chair, leaned back and spread her knees.

  Done, Sir.

  Good girl. I only have a few more minutes, so I want you to do what I say.

  Yes, Sir.

  Touch yourself. Stroke your pussy, nice and slow. I want you to work yourself up, but you’re not going to come.

  Oh, Christ. Raging lust filled her. The need to please him was so intense it seared her blood.

  She slipped her hand between her legs, dragging her fingers through her folds. So wet, she was soaked. Part of her wanted to rub herself to a quick and heady climax, but she didn’t dare. This was for him.

  Are you touching yourself, Gwen?

  Yes. Nice and slow, like you said.

  Good girl. Very nice. Are you wet for me?

  Fuck, yes.

  She quickened her strokes a little, unable to resist intensifying the pleasure.

  Slow down, sweetness. I want to enjoy this.

  How did he know she she’d sped up? Damn him. Her whole body tensed with the need to thrust two fingers inside herself and drill herself to heaven. Instead, she dragged her fingers slower over her clit, circling her entrance. Keeping her eyes on the screen for his response, she imagined it was Archer’s hot tongue there, flicking and swirling, taking her higher. She bit her tongue around a moan.

  Can I come yet, Sir?

  No. Ask again, and you won’t come at all.

  Oh, the bastard. Gwen put her head back, forcing herself to keep a painfully slow pace. The ripples of pleasure were almost unbearable.

  Good girl. You’re lack of response tells me how hard this is for you, but I know you wouldn’t defy me again. Fuck Gwen, I wish those fingers were my cock.

  She panted, and her thighs trembled.

  Mr to, Sir.

  Getting hot, Gwen? You seem to have forgotten how to spell. :D

  Yes, Sir.

  If she didn’t come now…

  Good. Fuck your fingers. Fuck them like I’d drill you with my cock until you come.

  Gwen slid her fingers in, savoring the first stretch, but the need was too intense to put off. She drilled herself hard, angling her hand so that her palm hit her clit on each thrust. She shoved them in and out hard and fast like she knew Archer would pound her, panting.

  The climax exploded through her, hot, hard, and intense. She rocked her hips and cried out.

  For a moment, she half sat, half lay back in the chair, breathing ragged, wishing Archer was there. Wishing she could devour the cock she knew had to be hard to the point of pain now, and suck him to a violent release.

  When she had the presence of mind to type a coherent message, she sat up, wiped her fingers on a tissue from her desk, and typed.

  Wow, Sir. I’ve never done anything like that before. Now I see why Zoe likes sexting with Nick.


  I haven’t done this before either. Shit, Gwen, the whole time you were getting off, I was sitting here imagining what you looked like, finger fucking yourself. Wishing it was my cock inside you.

  Me too, Sir. I can’t wait to see you again.

  Next week. I gotta go. Class. Sleep well and dream of me, sweet thing.

  A.

  Smiling, Gwen sent a goodbye. For a long while, she sat thinking of Archer, wishing it was Saturday.

  A ding pulled her out of her thoughts and she sat up. Archer should have been in class now. She looked at the screen.

  Secret Admirer.

  “Shit.” Heart in her throat, she opened the email.

  Angel,

  You disappoint me.

  No proper woman would dare allow a man to talk to her in such a manner. Talking like a whore over the interwebs where who knows who can read it. Your wickedness will not go unpunished.

  And since that brute talked you into this, he’ll pay, too. He will not corrupt you further. I’ll not allow it.

  Expect something from me soon.

  Horror bolted through her. He’d read the emails between her and Archer, but how? Her blood turned to ice as she reread the letter.

  This was the first time he’d threatened Archer like that. The thought of what he might do to punish Archer for his actions made her gut clench.

  Gwen’s hands balled into fists. The cops wouldn’t do anything to help her, but she couldn’t let Archer end up hurt because of her negligence. And she had to warn him, class or not.

  She snatched up her phone.

  19

  Infraction

  Archer couldn’t get to Gwen’s apartment fast enough. As soon as she’d called him and he’d heard the trembling in her voice as she told him about the message, he’d cancelled his class and sped over. He knew that kind of fear, had heard it before from Kimiko in the weeks before her death.

  The urge to find the man mixed with a bone chilling alarm for Gwen. No. He wouldn’t lose her…

  He raced upstairs and used the key to let himself in.

  “Archer?” Gwen stood at the end of her hall, visibly shaking. Fuck, he wanted to wrap her in his warmth and strength until her fears abated. And then he wanted to find this freak and beat him to a bloody pulp.

  “Yeah, Gwen, it’s me.”

  He swallowed at the sight of her. He’d only seen a woman’s face look that white once.

  He slid his hands around her shoulders, forcing himself not to grab her. “I’m here. Are you all right?”

  She nodded, but her teeth chattered like someone had pulled her out of a snow bank. “S…sorry to pull you out of class, but you… you had to know. He… he threatened you too.”

  He drew her to him, rubbing her back. “What happened? You said on the phone he sent you a message about our emails, but how did he know? How did he read them?”

  “I dunno. He must have gotten into my emails somehow.” She showed him her computer.

  Archer sat on her couch and read the email. His brows climbed with every word. He looked at her. “Proper woman? Really? He talks like this?”

  “Yes. He always writes like that.”

  Her words jumped out at him. “Always?” He knifed to his feet. “You mean this isn’t the first letter he’s sent you?” He barely recognized his own growl. She tensed and he sighed, taking her hands in his. “What else has he done?”

  She looked away.

  “Gwen. Why the hell didn’t you tell me it had gotten this bad?”

  She rolled her eyes, but they were too bright. “Because it wasn’t your responsibility. You’re my sensei. There was only one call since we got back together, and it was just a hang up.”

  “You should have told me he was getting this bad.” He spun away and raked a hand through his hair.

  “Why? Archer, there’s nothing you could have done.”

  He sighed, turning back to her. She was right. He wasn’t a cop, and this guy probably knew how to get around the law. Still, she was his. He should have been there for her. The idea that this wacko might do something to her in the moments he wasn’t there filled him with a bone deep horror. He massaged his nape.

  “All right. We’re calling the police now.”

  The words were like a bucket of ice poured over her. Gwen shook her head. “Archer, no. I told you what happened when I went to them before. They dismissed it. Blamed it on my work. They’ll just do the same thing.”

  “Ace. Let me call Ace.”

  The memory of what Ace had said washed over her. You work at a BDSM club. What do you expect?

  “No way, Archer.”

  He reached for her and she twisted free, pacing across the apartment. Archer dropped his arms.

  “He’s your brother, Gwen. He’ll help you.”

  “He already tried.” She wasn’t about to tell him what Ace had initially said before she pushed him into investigating. “He didn’t find any proof of wrongdoing.” She slapped the laptop shut, as if that ended the subject.

  Archer made an angry noise. “Gwen, we have to do something.”

  “Just stop, I’m not talking to any cops. Leave it alone. I’ll handle it myself.”

  The blood drained from Archer’s face. He marched over to her, taking her arms. “Oh no you won’t. I am not letting you go looking for this guy on your own. Fuck that.”

  She twisted out of his hold. “Who said anything about looking for him? I meant I’ll delete the email and figure out how to protect myself.”

  She narrowed her eyes on him when his shoulders dropped and he looked relieved.

  “Do you honestly think I’m crazy enough to go after this wacko on my own?”

  He opened his mouth with what looked like a retort, but closed it and looked away. “I want to find this guy.” He opened her laptop and scanned the email.

  “Archer, you can’t. What is it they say in karate? Someone always knows more.” He sighed and rubbed her arm, then sat on her couch. “I know. Gwen, sit down a minute.”

  She gave him a questioning look, but lowered herself down beside him. He closed his huge hand over hers.

  “I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  “I have a friend. He’s FBI now, but he used to be a cop here, years ago. I was his sensei. I want to get him out here to look into this.”

  New dread filled her. “No, Archer. I said no cops.”

  Archer gave a patient sigh and squeezed her hands. “Gwen, just listen to me. Quinn’s not like the cops here. That’s why he left. He hated the way the police in Haven behave.”

  She shook her head and pushed to her feet. “I don’t know.”

  Archer followed her and turned her gently to him. “Look, I promise you. Quinn’s a hard ass, but he will help. Any guy who’d invade your privacy like this and threaten you is extremely dangerous. Like it or not, we need Quinn’s help.”

  Gwen couldn’t help but smile at the way he’d said “we”. It made her feel so much calmer, knowing she wasn’t alone in this. And Archer’s faith in his friend was hard to ignore.

  She glanced at the stalker’s email. Then she closed her eyes. How much worse would this get?

  “Ok.” She nodded, clasping his hand. “Make the call.”

  * * *

  An hour after Archer hung up the phone, the buzzer in Gwen’s apartment sounded. She tensed in Archer’s embrace and he rubbed her arms.

  “That’s probably just Quinn.” He released her and got up, going to the intercom, waving her off when she followed to answer it.

  Right, safer if a man answered, just in case. His protectiveness warmed her. He pressed the talk button.

  “Yeah.”

  “Master Archer?” A gruff voice crackled over the speaker.

  He nodded reassurance to Gwen. “Quinn.”

  “Is the victim with you?”

  Matter of fact, almost terse. Victim. Gwen couldn’t help bristling.

  “She’s here. Come on up.”

  A few minu
tes later a knock on the door echoed in the hall. Archer opened it but left the latch on. Someone stuck a badge in the opening, and Archer took the latch off. “Hi, Quinn. Come on in.”

  A disheveled man strode in. Almost a half a head taller than Archer’s already huge frame and nearly a quarter again as wide in the shoulders, he took up the whole width of the doorway. He took a pair of black leather gloves off of his large hands and stuck them in one of the many pockets of his black leather jacket. Against the black, the streaks of vivid silver-white in his thick dark hair stood out like snow in the night.

  Halfway down the hall, he glanced behind him at the door, assessing something there. When he entered the room behind Archer, he glanced around again.

  “There’s no peep hole in the door.” He jerked his thumb back down the hall. Narrowed his eyes at the computer, then at Archer and Gwen as both sat down in front of it. Archer scrolled through the email.

  “Why are you going through that?” The agent stalked over to them and slapped the laptop shut. “Master Archer, haven’t I taught you anything? Why are you touching my evidence? Up, both of you.”

  Archer’s face split into a big grin. “Fuck you, Agent.” He looked at Gwen, jerked his thumb at the taller man. “Gwen Stanton, Special Agent Quinn Lassiter. Quinn, Gwen.”

  Lassiter grunted a greeting and pushed his way into a place on the couch before both she and Archer were fully off it. He set a leather bag down, and opened it, drawing out a lot of strange, high-tech looking equipment, which he hooked up to her laptop.