Masterful 2 (An Erotic Dark Romance) Read online

  MASTERFUL

  Part 2

  Jesse Joren

  Copyright © 2015 Jesse Joren

  ISBN-10: 1514834855

  ISBN-13: 978-1514834855

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission from the author. Brief quotations for critical articles and reviews are excepted.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, etc. are either created by the author or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real-life persons, situations, etc. is purely coincidental.

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  JUNE 5

  CHAPTER 1

  Short, steep pants echoed from the exposed wooden beams overhead, interlaced with garbled sounds that weren't quite words. My body writhed as it sought release, unable to catch my breath or even to think.

  It sounded like the heated throes of passion. All that ragged breathing, those pants and groans, were like the song of someone riding her lover for all she was worth, heading for fireworks at the finish line.

  The reality? Not even close.

  The only thing under me was a high-tech stationary bike. My legs worked as though they were possessed. Sweat sheeted off my skin in a fine rain, and the digital screen wavered at 49.8 MILES in front of my fevered eyes.

  To the casual eye, it looked like I was in one hell of a hurry to reach that fifty-mile goal. But like so many things over the past six weeks, nothing was what it seemed.

  It would be natural to overlook the black leather bike seat. Easy to miss how hard it pressed up between my legs, not to hear the strong, soundless vibration that was driving me crazy.

  Hex called this motivation. No…that wasn't exactly the word he'd used.

  Engaged, was what he'd said at supper last night. I want to keep you engaged.

  There was a string attached, of course. My captivity at his hands came with lots of strings, and sometimes ropes, chains and cuffs.

  If the bike dropped below a certain speed for fifteen seconds, all the distance I'd logged would be wiped away, meaning I had to start over. Like the bastard he could sometimes be, Hex hadn't actually revealed what that speed was.

  "It makes things more interesting," he'd offered with a grave face, laughter hidden in his eyes and voice.

  For almost three hours my mind and body had been focused on this grueling ride, blotting out everything else in my fear of making a costly mistake. Maybe I was going faster than I needed, but there was no way to know.

  Was I exhausted? Hell to the yes.

  Meanwhile, the leather seat hummed along at its devilish pace. It moved just enough to arouse me, but not quite enough to provide release. No way that was an accident.

  In theory, I could slide my hands down inside my soaked shorts, rubbing hard between my legs to find relief. Instead they were firmly on the bike's handles, monitored by unseen sensors.

  Hex had anticipated this loophole too. He had a particular genius for being a step ahead of me.

  Hands leave the handles, distance goes to zero, and no clothes for tomorrow.

  Bitterly I remembered the casual online remark that led to this hellish ride. Just one of many mistakes that were coming back to haunt me.

  What someone needs to invent is a sexercise machine. One that makes you cum as the reward. Not too easy. Something you have to earn. I'd buy the first one!

  Now here I was. Customer numero uno.

  Lucky me.

  The exercise shorts were pasted to my ass and thighs, soaked with sweat. I pushed hard against the seat, everything down there drenched and quivering.

  Close. I was so damn close...

  50.0 MILES

  The numbers flashed in lurid red on the screen, and the seat went still. The ache between my legs remained. I grabbed the handles harder for balance, fighting both arousal and exhaustion.

  COOLDOWN, the screen flashed.

  That was new. Usually it just went blank, but Hex could go to hell. This ride was over.

  When he'd kidnapped me in Atlanta six weeks ago, that out-of-shape gal would have laughed herself silly at the idea of a fifty-mile ride like this.

  Not laughing now, huh, Eva?

  For all my efforts, I never gained ground, never earned a break. Every day I had to earn my clothes, food, and any other extras through a never-ending stream of challenges.

  The first clothes he brought to the cabin were a tight 18/20. Now a 14/16 was starting to feel comfortable.

  My body still ached at the end of each day, but a new strength was blooming under my softness. He'd mentioned that just last night, his eyes lingering on me until I felt light-headed and too warm.

  Hex. Serious and sexy. Dangerous and devious. Sometimes playful, but always watching me with brilliant gray eyes that never gave much away.

  Whatever he wanted from me, he must want it badly. He'd watched me for months, laying his plans in secret before bringing me to this isolated cabin.

  On the first night of my captivity, he told me we were close to Savannah. I tended to believe him. There was a strange sense of honor in him, even though only he seemed to know the rules.

  Somewhere outside these walls, my life was going on without me. I had friends, family, a job, an apartment. But if anyone was looking for me, there were no signs.

  Each day flowed into the next, as if I belonged here now. Sometimes a sad, scary thought broke through in spite of all my attempts to suppress it.

  Maybe I wasn't missed after all. Maybe no one even cared that I was gone.

  The more reasonable part of me knew that was stupid. This whole crazy situation had a way of making any rational arguments lose their value.

  Right now I had more pressing problems. That sweet, awful ache wasn't subsiding, and I was exhausted. Soon it would be time for supper and verbal sparring, an exchange where I almost never came out ahead.

  As if hearing my thoughts, faint footsteps sounded on the secret staircase in the pantry. From what I could tell, those stairs were the only way in and out of this strange prison.

  That sound meant only one thing. I might not be coming…but Hex was.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Nice ride. You look flushed," was the greeting my captor threw my way.

  Fucker.

  I could have killed him for the wicked smile he flashed at me. No one so damaged should be allowed to look that good.

  It wasn't fair that he was so tall and powerful, with long, taut muscles that gave him a sleek greyhound grace. His face was lean and tanned, set off by short, dark-honey hair and those ice-gray eyes that always left me feeling stripped.

  A large box was tucked under his arm. Clothes for me and dinner for us both, I guessed. Even across the room I caught a sweet, savory whiff of curry and cloves.

  He set the box on the rough wooden table and began to unpack. That little grin stayed around the beautiful edges of his mouth as he worked.

  Let it go, Eva. Let it go.

  The hell with that. I could never let anything go. That was part of all my problems.

  "You think you're pretty smart, don't you?" I said, my voice shaking. "What did you do, write down everything we ever talked about?"

  "I saved all the conversations, yes," he said, "but the sexercise bike was memorable on its own. Great idea. How did it work?"

  The man simply had no shame.

  "It sucked," I snapped. "It leaves the customer frustrated."

  "The design needed a modification," he said. "The goal isn't to satisfy, but to distract until the goal is met. You made fifty miles. Con
gratulations. A huge win."

  I didn't feel like a winner. Unsatisfied, sweaty, and manipulated was more like it.

  But you did it. Face it, he won. Again.

  Hex was watching me, smiling as though he heard this treacherous thought cross my mind.

  "You didn't cool down," he said. "I'd ask why, but I know already. Pure stubbornness."

  "I've had enough, alright?"

  He made me nervous. His rhythm was off tonight. Usually there was a quiet window after I finished my challenge, a brief time to myself.

  Why was he here so early?

  Hex set the box aside, then carried what looked like a small silver bucket into the kitchen. There was a soft metallic chink as he set it next to the sink, then he turned and came toward me.

  He was wearing his usual dark T-shirt and jeans, even though it was summer somewhere outside. As always he looked cool and collected, radiating sexiness with every casual gesture.

  "You haven't had enough," he said, stopping near me. "You're going to cool off before we eat. That's important after a ride like this."

  "I'm not getting back on that bike tonight," I said, crossing my arms over my sweaty pink sports bra.

  Oh my god. You're standing here and challenging him in his own lair? Are you out of your mind?

  No, but it was getting old having him calling all the shots. He hadn't hurt me so far. I was willing to bet that he wouldn't now.

  "Fair enough," he said.

  His agreeable tone should have warned me. The next instant he had me in his arms, sweeping me up like…well, like I wasn't a chunky size 14/16.

  All of my sweaty squirming did nothing as he hauled me into the kitchen. Instead of putting me on the countertop, he dumped me ass-first into the wide stone sink. My legs flailed, but I couldn't right myself.

  He reached for the container beside the sink.

  "I had other plans for this," he said, "but headstrong Eva makes me improvise yet again."

  My position in the sink was humiliating. It was too deep to fling myself out, and I wasn't going to beg him to help me.

  Bet that bike is looking pretty good right now.

  There was a muffled rattle as Hex dug his hand into the bucket. I hadn't heard that sound since being here, but there was no mistaking the clink of…

  "Ice, meet Eva," he said. "You have your work cut out for you. She's a firecracker. Let's see if you can cool her off."

  My breath hitched as he looked down at me. I hadn't seen him look like that since he'd brought me to a shattering climax in the bathtub, almost six weeks ago. Since then he'd never touched me, his attitude sometimes intense, sometimes amused, but always controlled.

  There was nothing distant about the hot gray heat in his eyes that raked over me. Cool me off? What a joke. Right or wrong, that look set me on fire.

  The handful of ice was already starting to drip down his wrist. He maneuvered inside my forced-apart legs, pressing his palm against the fevered heat between my thighs.

  "When someone is overheated," he said, a husky note creeping into his voice, "it's important to cool off their core as fast as possible."

  The cold, wet shock of the ice went right through my thin shorts and panties as if they weren't there. A deep shiver shook me, hardening my nipples to stiff peaks through the exercise bra.

  "That's too cold." My voice sounded small, nothing like me, stuttering and breathless. "I…I…"

  "You seem to be melting it pretty fast," he said, rubbing the diminishing handful back and forth between my legs.

  He was right. I was shivering, but the ice was no match for my heat. All of me was shuddering from the cold, but it didn't cool me. The arousal inside me ratcheted higher with each cold pass of his palm.

  Hex dropped the small remaining ice slivers into the sink under me with a soft series of plinks. He took up fresh ice in each hand, cupping them around the hard little stones of my nipples.

  My teeth were chattering, and my whole body was tight and coiled. It was too much, he was making me too cold…

  Bull. Shit. He gets within ten feet and you practically cum. You need help, and plenty of it.

  Whatever twisted buttons made me tick, Hex pushed them all without even seeming to try. Embarrassment, anger, sweatiness – none of it could stop the effect he had on me.

  And it wasn't just since he brought me to this cabin. That spark had been between us online for two years before he decided to come calling and kidnap me. Now it only burned hotter.

  "You're still wound up," he said. His hands slid away, leaving the fabric over my nipples wet and clinging. "You need one more dose, I think."

  He dipped into the bucket for one small chip of ice, hard and frosted white. With a quick motion he popped it into his mouth, then pressed between my thighs as he leaned in to kiss me.

  The shock of his warm lips and cold tongue exploring my mouth was gentle and insistent at the same time. He had kissed me once, just before that steamy, sensual bath. The memory of the kiss had kept me awake more nights than the bath itself.

  No question that I should hate him, push him away. Instead my hands came up to pull him close, relishing the feel of his hair, the dizzying scent of him that wrapped around me.

  For an endless moment the cabin disappeared, There was only the two of us, fused together in that hot-and-cold kiss, the thrilling promise of even darker delights that could be explored if only…

  Then Hex was pulling away, his fingertips trailing down my fevered cheek.

  "Maybe next time you'll mind me about the cool down," he said, his voice not quite so controlled. "If not, no problem. I have plenty of ice."

  All at once the real world came rushing back at me. I was still sweaty, still tired, still a mess, pressed against Hex as I sprawled in the sink.

  Then I became aware of something else: the hard bulge of his cock rubbing against me. Even through his jeans and my soaked shorts and panties, I could feel the throbbing heat.

  Against my better judgment, I dared a glance up at his face, and his eyes caught mine like a magnet. The sheer intensity of his gaze made it hard to catch my breath.

  "You look too fucking sexy for your own good. Or mine," he said without a trace of a smile.

  Funny, that was exactly what I was thinking about him. In his case, it was true, but those words applied to me? Ridiculous. Too well I knew what I really was: overweight, awkward, and now soaked in melted ice.

  Then a sudden flash of raw instinct made me pause. Hex was telling the truth. This wasn't a joke at my expense, or a case of delusion. He honestly saw me as sexy, desirable, beautiful.

  And for just an instant, seeing myself reflected in his eyes, I almost believed it too.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Have you recovered from my surprise?" Hex asked me an hour later over supper.

  By then I was mostly composed. He'd left clean clothes and disappeared long enough for me to sponge off at the kitchen sink and brush my hair.

  The ache between my legs was still hanging around, like a drunk friend who won't leave when the party's over. Since there was nothing I could do about it, distraction seemed like the best plan.

  "Did you make all this?" I asked, gesturing at the Indian feast spread out on the table.

  His cooking skills didn't interest me at all. Ever since he'd brought me here, I'd been fishing for clues about how close we might be to other people. If he wasn't making all this food, someone else was.

  "Is that one of your official questions for tonight?" he asked, taking more thin, delicious rumali bread to mop up the chicken tandoori.

  This was another of the maddening "rewards" from my exercise. Each night I was allowed to ask three questions…but there was no guarantee that Hex would answer in a way that wasn't a riddle. Twice now I'd slipped and lost my chance on a technicality.

  "Just curious." I hoped my tone was nonchalant. "You can burn water for all I care."

  Hex snorted as he took a long drink of the white wine he'd brought with the fo
od. "You've never had an idle thought since I've known you," he said.

  That made me focus on the little bread rounds, filled with something that tasted like spicy potatoes. "What are these, again?"

  "Pani puri. Very easy to make," he said, although he didn't say by who.

  "They're good," I admitted, even though my mouth was burning. "I do have a question."

  "What a surprise," Hex said. "Hit me."

  Sure. Hand me a brick.

  "When am I done?"

  "What do you mean?" he asked. When I hesitated, he added, "Don't worry. It won't count against your questions."

  "When will I have lost enough weight that you'll think your job is done, and you'll let me go?"

  He leaned back to study me. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

  "I've had six weeks to think about it, and yes, I do," I said. "It obviously bothers you, and it would be nice to know when—"

  "Really. Do you think I give a flying fuck about how much you weigh?" he asked.

  This was getting into uneasy territory. I tried to back off and evade his question.

  "There's no other logical reason for the bike rides. Hanging on ropes. Using that damn squatty potty in the basement instead of a real toilet."

  "If that was my intent, there would be no logical reason to provide dinners like this one," he said, jerking his head at the table. "You'd get to my so-called goal much faster on salad and water."

  No arguing with that. He fed me very well, but the grueling exercise sessions melted me faster than the food could keep up. The shrinking sizes didn't lie.

  "The only one who cares about that is you," he said. "Your mind races around and around, looking for answers in the wrong places. I'm trying to take you off that track, Eva."

  My mind didn't make the connection.

  "Then why –" I began.

  Hex held up two fingers. "This is a new question," he said. "Just so you know.

  I didn't feel like he'd even answered the first one to my satisfaction. It was always like that, and it made me furious.