Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson
K
urt Jarrett stood naked in his bedroom in Anchorage, listening to the TV weather report and muttering to himself.
“Come on, Kurt, baby.” Vivian walked in front of him in full dominatrix gear, her boobs sticking out of their leather harness, her long legs encased in thigh-high boots with a four-inch heel. She wore a studded belt, but her crotch and ass were conveniently bare.
He wasn’t interested. “I don’t wanna.”
“But you will.” She jingled a bit and bridle. “Time to give mama a ride.”
“I don’t feel like it, Viv. This blizzard’s ruining everything.”
“Not ruining, Kurt. Delaying. Now quit whining and get on the floor.”
“What if Ally loses interest? I want to call her up at that lodge. Why can’t I call her?”
“We’ve been through all that.” Vivian tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder. “We don’t know how this will shake out, whether we go with Plan A or Plan B. If it turns out to be Plan B, we don’t want a bunch of phone logs showing up someday, now do we?”
“Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right. But if I can’t call her, then I need to drive up to Porcupine right away, while she’s still in the mood to let me help her with this photography thing.”
“Let’s talk about my mood.” Vivian flicked the tip of the reins sharply across his butt.
“Ouch!”
“I’m in the mood for a ride.” She snapped the tip of the rein, catching him again, but harder this time.
“That hurts, Viv!”
She laughed. “That’s the idea. You know you want it.”
“No I don’t.” But he did, and nobody knew that better than Vivian. “I can’t lose out on this money. She’s vulnerable right now. I can probably talk her into anything. But I need to strike while the iron is hot.”
“What a concept.” Vivian whipped both reins across his stinging butt. “On your knees, now!”
“I want it to stop snowing.” He slowly lowered himself to all fours. “My knees hurt. I’m too old for this.”
“Shut up and arch your back.” She stepped astride and settled herself. Then she forced the bit into his mouth and adjusted the bridle around his head.
He tried to act like none of that affected him, but the taste of metal made him hard. She was everything he wanted in a woman—tough, unshockable, insatiable… and refined. No matter what things she did to him, she never talked dirty. Kurt hated a foul-mouthed woman almost as much as he hated his dear departed stepmother, Madeline Jarrett.
Vivian pulled back sharply on the reins, stretching his mouth. Then she brought the reins down hard on his butt. “Buck, you wild stallion! And make it good or no treat for you!”
As she continued to whip him, he took her around the bedroom, bucking and arching his back while she rocked back and forth, whooping and hollering, getting her jollies until his backbone was slippery from all the fun she was having up there. The harder she whipped him, the more he felt like coming.
But after two years of playing these games with him, she knew right when to stop. Although she could come all she wanted, he wasn’t allowed until she told him he could. Sometimes she’d forbid him to come at all. Then he had to masturbate in secret and hope she didn’t find out. Once she’d caught him at it and he’d had to spend two days with his hands cuffed behind his back.
This time he thought she’d let him come, if only to cheer him up on account of the blizzard. Standing, she took off her studded belt and wrapped it around his neck with the studs pressing against his throat. Then she pulled the bit roughly from his mouth and tossed the bridle aside while she kept a firm grip on the belt around his neck.
Sitting on a leather ottoman, she spread her legs and used the belt to jerk his head into position. Her voice was harsh. “Do me!”
Her juices made the cuts on his mouth sting, but he knew better than to complain. If he did this part well, she might give him a treat. He set to work.
She tightened the belt around his neck. “Faster!”
He could barely breathe, but he licked faster, and she started to holler. He thought she might choke him to death, but finally she loosened her hold on the belt.
With a sigh, she stood. “We’re done. Get dressed.”
“Done? Vivian, please!”
“Why should I? You’re not rich yet.”
“I will be!” He lifted his face, looking up that long, tight body. Only she understood him. He needed her more than air and water. “Please, Viv. Oh, please.”
She glanced down, her gaze haughty. “It’s extra trouble.”
“I know, I know, but I need it, Viv. Don’t stop now. Please don’t.”
“You’re such a baby.”
“Please!”
“Crawl over and bring it back in your teeth.”
Desperate, he crawled to the chair where she’d left the dildo hanging carelessly by its strap. He had to open his mouth wide and bite down hard, but he managed to get a good hold on it. He crawled back to her, the strap dragging against the carpet.
“Good doggie.” She ran her fingers through his hair before tightening her grip and yanking his head up. “You want that?”
He nodded frantically.
“You’d better pray you’ll be rich soon, buster.” With a weary sigh, she released her grip on his hair and strapped on the dildo. She made him stand up, lean over and brace his hands against the dresser, so she wouldn’t have to work too hard.
But at least she was willing to pick up the bridle again and whip him good first. She even oiled the dildo. He was practically weeping with gratitude by the time his orgasm arrived. He would do anything for this woman. Anything.
* * *
As Ally took a seat at Betsy’s kitchen table, she wondered how she’d come so close to kissing Mitchell. Kissing Mitchell would be a very bad idea, and yet if Betsy hadn’t called them to supper, Ally might be in a liplock with him right this very minute. She still had the urge.
Betsy put a steaming plate in front of each of them. Then she set down two bottles of beer with a clunk. “Enjoy. And if you’re hungry after you finish this, feel free to have anything you can find. There’s some leftover blackberry pie in the refrigerator. I’m going back to the Top Hat.”
Ally couldn’t imagine anyone going back out into that deep freeze except for an emergency. Besides, a chaperone might be a good idea. “You don’t have to leave, Betsy.”
“Yes I do. I have to go back and set that Clyde Hammacher straight. I don’t know what he’s talking about, raving on about that caribou steak. If I don’t go over there and convince him that as usual he’s mistaken, he’ll continue to insist that I’m the one with the poor memory. I can’t let some scrawny little pipsqueak get the better of me.”
Ally smiled to herself. Betsy was definitely intrigued by the scrawny little pipsqueak.
“We’ll clean up the kitchen when we’re finished,” Mitchell said.
“Yes, definitely,” Ally added.
“No problem.” Betsy picked up her red coat from the back of a chair and shoved her arms into it. “In bear season, we can’t leave any dirty plates in the sink or the grizzlies might smell the food and break into the kitchen to get it. They make a helluva mess, too.”
Mitchell’s eyes widened. “Bears are right here in town?”
Ally put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Mitchell. The bears have gone nighty-night until spring.”
“Yeah, but still… bears in the kitchen?”
“It’s happened,” Betsy said. “See, the Loose Moose straddles two worlds.” She shoved her feet into her boots and leaned over with a grunt to snap the metal fastenings. “The front part of the lodge is in town, and the back is on the outskirts.” She straightened up and grappled with the bottom pieces of her coat’s zipper. “My back porch butts right up against the forest. I’ve had all manner of critters peering in my kitchen window.”
“Is that right?” Mitchell glanced nervously at the window, but between the frost coating the outside and the steam fogging the inside, the glass was in no shape for viewing from either side.
“You betcha.” Betsy zipped her coat. “We used to have a regular around here we called ‘the Peeping Caribou.’ If God had given that animal the gift of speech, he’d have told some X-rated stories, guaranteed.”
“And that,” Ally said, “is why I chose Porcupine as my headquarters, Mitchell.”
“X-rated stories?”
“Ha, ha. No, because it’s Critter City. I talked to Betsy on the phone and knew this would be the perfect place.”
“And I thought it was real gutsy of you to come up in the winter,” Betsy said.
Ally glanced at Mitchell. “Some people thought it was pretty stupid.”
Looking testy, he gestured toward the window. “Okay, now tell me, do you see a Peeking Caribou out there?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Betsy said. “There’s still stuff to take pictures of. Wolves in the snow would make a dandy picture. Once the storm’s over, you’ll find plenty to do.”
“Wolves are on the top of my list.”
“Not mine,” Mitchell muttered under his breath.
She couldn’t blame him for feeling grouchy. He hadn’t had the best of circumstances so far on this trip. First the blizzard, and then she’d embarrassed him in public, and now his only hot meal was something that smelled okay but probably tasted disgusting. On top of that, Mitchell had more disappointment coming in the form of rejection, once Betsy left the kitchen.
Betsy pulled up her hood. “I’m off, then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She laughed. “And that means your options are wide open. Don’t wait up for me, either. When Clyde and me get to fighting, it can go on a long time. He’s one stubborn idiot.” Betsy started out of the kitchen, her boots landing heavily on the wooden floorboards.
Mitchell leaned toward Ally. “Listen, before this charade goes any further, I want you to know that this business about me being interested in you has been—”
“I forgot something!” Betsy clomped back into the kitchen. “If you should need ‘em, I keep condoms in my bathroom medicine cabinet.”
Ally’s jaw dropped. She didn’t dare look at Mitchell, who was making a choking sound, as if he’d just swallowed his tongue. From the corner of her eye she saw him reach for his beer.
With her hood up, Betsy was probably oblivious to their reaction. “My bathroom’s through there.” She pointed to a door beside the stove. “It’s open, so help yourselves. I have plenty. Now I’m
really
leaving.”
Ally held her breath until she heard the front door open and close. Then she let it out in a rush. “Whew.” She sneaked a glance at Mitchell. “You okay?”
“Um, sure.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. He was gripping his fork so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Ally, things are getting way out of control, here. I want you to know—”
“No, let me go first.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ve wasted your trip. I’m so sorry that you came all the way up here. I wish you’d mentioned this before I left, and we could have cleared it up then.”
“Ally, let me say something. I—”
“Don’t say it, Mitchell. It will make no difference. Although I appreciate everything you’ve done for Grammy and for me, I don’t think you and I are destined to be… I mean, you have wonderful qualities, and I’m sure that someone else would be honored if you—”
He put down his fork. “I’m not interested in you, Ally.”
She blinked, taken aback. To her surprise, she felt a little disappointed. Having him charge up here out of lovesickness had given her a bigger ego boost than she’d thought. But now he’d claimed he wasn’t interested, so that was the end of that. She couldn’t call him a liar.
Then she figured out what was going on. He was rejecting her before she could reject him, to save his pride. Fine with her. Let him take whatever way out suited him.
“I must have misunderstood,” she said. “Jet lag messes everyone up, doesn’t it?” She gave him a big smile to show that they could move on and forget all about this awkward situation. At least now that he realized there was no hope, he would leave once the blizzard was over.
“I told Betsy I was interested in you in order to sidetrack her. She seemed determined to get me into that Murphy bed.”
“She sure did!” Ally managed a hearty laugh, although she felt sort of depressed that he could so easily come up with a cover story to explain away his obvious infatuation. “That Betsy’s hot to trot, isn’t she? Okay, time for one of us to test this moose-meat pie!” She stuck her fork into the mixture on her plate, which looked a lot like beef pot pie.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Of course I believe you, Mitchell.” She took a tiny taste of what she had on her fork. “You know, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Forget where it came from and try it.”
He left his fork on the table. “You don’t believe me. I can tell. But I grabbed the first excuse that came my way. Then when I was worried that you might be getting involved with Rudy, I decided to use the same tactic to get him to back off.”
“Wait a minute.” She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She’d been willing to cut him some slack, but he’d just managed to hang himself with all that extra rope. “Are you telling me that you
disapprove
of Rudy?”
“Not in general. He’s a great guy, but if you’re talking about hooking up permanently with him, then—”
“Hey! Time out!” Now that she’d sobered up, she didn’t think Rudy was an appropriate boyfriend, either, but she’d defend to the death her right to make that decision for herself. “I don’t know if you’re interested in me or not. You say you’re not, but I can’t think of any other reason why you’re here.”
“I’m here because—”
“But whether you’re interested is not the issue on the table.” She barreled on, pointing her fork full of moose meat at him for emphasis. “You are my grandmother’s personal assistant. You are not in charge of choosing which men are appropriate for me and which are not. End of discussion. If I want to date Rudy—hell, if I want to
marry
Rudy—I will!”
He gazed at her, his expression unreadable. “Are you finished?”
An adrenaline rush made her long to toss the moose-meat pie in his face. But she was sober now, and she couldn’t override years of training in the social graces in order to do it. Besides, the food was actually pretty good. The onions, potatoes, and carrots added a lot to the mix.