Her Master at Last

Leaving her bag until she could get away without being seen, she padded down the hall toward Jack and Marc’s voices coming from the kitchen. Pausing to take a deep, fortifying breath and put on a fake face, she stepped into the great room on shaky legs.

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Marc greeted her with a smile.

Morgan gave him her best smile, praying she fooled them as they each looked at her with worry. With hope, they’d put her reticence down to embarrassment over their threesome last night and not question her.

Jack noticed the change in Morgan as soon as he saw her. Since she was fine when he left the bedroom earlier, he could only surmise she felt uncomfortable around Marc. Remembering what happened between Marc and Cassie, he hoped he hadn’t pushed her too far too fast. She had seemed to enjoy including Marc last night and had embraced the whole encounter with as much enthusiasm as she has everything else he introduced her to. Not that he intended to share her often. Maybe she needed to be reassured of that, and of his feelings for her.

“We saved you some banana pancakes. Come help yourself.” Setting a plate in front of her as she took a seat at the counter, he then poured her a cup of coffee. “Marc and I have to go back to town to pick up supplies at the post office. Want to come?” He hoped having her accompany them with no sexual overtures would help put her at ease.

“No, thanks. I’d rather draw some more,” she replied, thankful they were making her getaway easy. She needed to leave as soon as possible before she broke down and selfishly put her own happiness ahead of his.

“Morgan,” Marc chided. “If you don’t want me to go, I’ll understand.”

“No! I mean, that’s not the reason. I really want to come up with some better sketches for Stephanie.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Kissing her, Jack knew something was bothering her. Vowing he’d get it out of her when they returned, he said, “We won’t be long.”

Morgan listened to them joke as they went downstairs and knew she couldn’t leave him without saying one more thing. Running to the balcony overlooking the lobby and foyer, she called down to him as he opened the front doors. “Jack, I love you.”

He smiled up at her. “I know you do, princess. I love you too.”

It wasn’t the first time they had said those words to each other, but it was the first time they meant more than as a friend. She prayed it wasn’t the last time she heard them.

* * *

Jack sat in the unlit club room and downed another whiskey. He and Marc had returned from Bear Creek by midafternoon and he’d known as soon as he’d stepped foot into the loft she was gone. A quick search had told him she hadn’t left anything behind except a short note stating she had changed her mind and wanted to return home. His first thought had been to go after her, demand an explanation and that she give him another chance. But he hadn’t been able to do it. He had only ever asked one thing of Morgan and that was for her to trust him. Apparently it was the one thing she hadn’t been willing to give.

With a bleak stare at the empty room, he remembered how the little minx had been brave enough to sneak in and spy on the activities she was unaccustomed to seeing, brave enough to risk his wrath and punishment. And then, much to his

surprise and pleasure, she had been brave enough to accept her punishment and embrace him and his lifestyle with all the enthusiasm she had always shown for new adventures, especially when they included him. In just a few short days he had put her through a sexual marathon, wasting no time introducing her to the pleasure/pain of sexual domination. And she had taken to each new experience with wholehearted enthusiasm, her multiple orgasms proof of her acceptance. So, why in the hell had she run instead of coming to him with her insecurities? Was it the threesome with Marc that sent her fleeing back home or was it something else? The only thing she had left him was a single sketch of his mountainside with her signature, that and heartache.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Marc joined Jack at the bar.

“Sorry, Marc.” Pouring another drink, he offered the bottle to him. “Care to join me or are you here to try to convince me I didn’t fuck up?”

Taking the bottle, Marc capped it and put it out of his friend’s reach. “You didn’t fuck up, Jack. Think about it for a minute.”

“You’d think we both would have learned our lesson with Cassie, wouldn’t you?” Jack asked, his voice laced with sympathy because now he knew firsthand how Marc had felt this past year.

“What happened with Cassie wasn’t the same. I screwed up big time with her and I admit it. I was so fucking obsessed I let that blind me to her youth and inexperience. Hell, Jack, I was an experienced dom assigned to a newbie. We had no relationship before I railroaded her into letting me top her on beginner’s night, and the few nights after. When I wanted to share her with you, I didn’t consider her innocence. I wanted that experience so bad for her, I never considered she would look at it as a betrayal. We both knew how easily new subs mistake their desire for submission as desire for just that dom. If you’d quit wallowing in self-pity, you’d see the difference.”

“If it wasn’t the sharing that made her leave, then what was it?” he demanded, having no clue why Morgan would take off without at least speaking to him first.

“That’s what you need to figure out. Have you tried calling her?”

“No, and I’m not going to. I asked her to trust me, Marc, and she didn’t. That girl isn’t shy, not with me. You’re right, we’ve known each other for twenty years, told each other everything, nothing was off limits. There is nothing she couldn’t talk to me about, nothing we couldn’t work out together. She chose not to and I refuse to chase after her like a lovesick puppy. This is exactly why I didn’t want to cross that line from friendship to lovers,” he finished with all the bitterness eating at him before downing his drink.

Marc’s grin was rueful as he pointed out the obvious. “But you are a lovesick puppy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nah, you’re not my type.” Sighing, Marc rose and returned the whiskey under the bar. “When you sober up, think about something. All her life, she’s run to you, thrown herself at you, risking her heart in the process. If I were to guess, her leaving probably had something to do with protecting you rather than herself. Maybe, for once, you ought to be the one who runs to her.”

Jack cleaned out his glass and then stumbled upstairs. Without bothering to change, he fell into bed and cursed when he automatically reached for her and she wasn’t there. God damn it. Tomorrow, he would chase that girl down, demand an explanation, and then beat her ass for pulling this latest stunt.

* * *

The next evening, he was just finishing packing a bag for his flight the following morning, when his phone rang. Recognizing Agatha’s number, he snatched it up, hoping she had news of Morgan. He had tried all day to call her, but she either wasn’t answering or she had packed her phone where she couldn’t grab it while driving. It took over fifteen hours to drive from Denver to Chicago, and now he had to worry about her being on the road alone, which just pissed him off more.