Servicing the Target

by Cherise Sinclair

  From behind Ben came the sound of the asshole’s raised voice, then the smack of flesh on flesh.

  Anne can handle him. She can handle him. Ben unclenched his jaw and snapped his fingers for Bronx to jump from the backseat to the front.

  “Stay right here, kiddo,” he said gently, making sure Paige was right beside the car.

  He looked at the mother. “My name’s Ben, Ma’am. I’m helping Anne drive.” He assisted Jane into the backseat and carefully strapped her in.

  One down. “Paige, get on in.”

  The girl shook her head. “We might have to help Anne.” With fists clenched, she planted her feet, going nowhere.

  Well, hell. Stymied, Ben set a light hand on her shoulder so he could keep track of her, then turned to watch the fight.

  If Anne needed help, he intended to be right there. And if the bastard attempted to lay a hand on the kid, he’d draw back a bloody stump.

  Unfortunately, Ben’s assistance wasn’t going to be required, which was a fucking shame.

  The asshole was trying to hit Anne and was missing every time. The woman had some seriously fine footwork. She delivered a perfectly executed snap kick to a knee.

  The bastard went down hard.

  Concrete meets face—face loses. Ben laughed under his breath. And tried to make his woody go away.

  Still in stance, Anne waited, obviously hoping the dumbass would stand up so she could knock him down again.

  Bad Domme. “Ma’am, that was good to watch, but your chariot waits.”

  And the little bit had seen enough.

  Anne frowned at Ben, fury still riding her shoulders, but when he glanced meaningfully down at the munchkin, she caught on immediately. “Right. Let’s get moving then.”

  To Ben’s surprise, Paige still didn’t move. Her eyes held hatred as she stared at her father.

  Fuck, that was just sad.

  Ben cleared his throat. “Paige. Hop in now.”

  Before he could help, she ran around the car, opened the rear door, and stopped.

  “Paige?”

  “A dog.”

  Ben realized Bronx had stuck his head between the front seats, hoping someone would throw him some attention.

  “You have a dog.” The wonder in her voice made the retriever whine.

  Ben smiled. Someone could use comforting, and he had just the dog to do it. “Want to ride in the front with Bronx?”

  If the gates of heaven had opened, the child couldn’t look more ecstatic. “Really?”

  In answer, Ben pulled open the front passenger door, motioned Bronx to the floor, and stepped out of the way.

  After Paige got in, Ben had to hold her back long enough to fasten the seat belt. Then she leaned forward, her arms went around the dog’s neck, and she buried her face in his fur.

  “Well,” Anne said. “I think Bronx could be more popular than the firemen’s beloved teddy bears.”

  Jane whispered, “Will the dog attack her? She’s so upset…”

  Ben squatted down beside the mother. “Bronx has a big heart, and he loves children. They’re fine.”

  To his surprise, Anne handed him the car keys and jumped into the back. “Jane, I need to know how badly you’re hurt.”

  Ah. Ben slid into the driver’s seat, checked the girl, and snorted. She was half-crying and half-laughing as Bronx gave little whines and tried to lick her tears away.

  With Anne’s directing from the back, Ben drove to the shelter and parked in the rear.

  As he assisted Jane from the car, Anne slid out on the other side.

  With an arm around Jane, she said, “Be right back.” She helped Jane to the building and rang the bell. Some women opened the door.

  As Paige gave Bronx a last hug, Ben leaned a hip against the SUV.

  “Mister Ben?”

  Ben looked down into bright blue eyes. “You don’t need the Mister part—Ben is fine. You got a question for me?”

  “You’re a man. Aren’t you supposed to protect Miss Anne?”

  Having expected a question about Bronx, he took a moment to recover. “Yes. I’ll always protect her. But she didn’t need my help with the as—uh, with…today.” He smiled slightly. “Did just fine on her own, didn’t she?”

  The child’s eyes were swollen from crying, but very, very alert. “So even though she knocked my father down, you still like her?”

  Ben simply laughed. “Damn straight.”

  “Paige.” Anne stood a pace away. She gave Ben a glance filled with amusement. “Honey, you need to go on in now.”

  The child kissed Bronx’s nose and hugged Anne. “You’ll come and see me? Please?”

  Ben could only stare as the most sadistic Mistress in the Shadowlands turned into jelly.

  Yeah, he’d found his woman.

  Chapter Nine

  As Ben drove Anne’s vehicle back to Uzuri’s, she regarded him. He seemed unfazed by Jane’s tears and terror, the husband’s anger, or the fight. His attention was on the traffic, his fingers keeping time with the radio’s music.

  Country-western, unfortunately. But, for him, she’d put up with the music.

  For him, she’d put up with a lot.

  She was still trying to get her head around the way he’d watched her take on Jane’s husband. Her brother Travis would have argued and eventually have backed off. Harrison and her father—never.

  But Ben hadn’t tried to throw his weight around at all. He’d let her handle it; damn, he pleased her.

  “You do that stuff often?” he asked. “Picking up women?”

  “Now and then. I spend most of my volunteer time with the girls in the shelter. The teens, especially, are pretty angry and confused.”

  “I saw you with Andrea’s crew. You’re good with kids. But the shelter stuff—why that?” He gave her a concerned glance. “Did you have a violent husband or boyfriend in the past?”

  After a second of feeling insulted, she realized his question arose out of concern. “No. But as a military brat, I saw a fair number of abusive husbands.” Like her best friend’s mama, who’d been married to a captain. The woman had concealed her black eyes and bruises with makeup. Had made excuses to her daughter and everyone else. “I fell down.” “I’m so clumsy.” “I bumped my head on the cupboard.”

  He winced. “Yeah. Seen that. I get you.”

  Anne had hated that captain with all her childish might. Had kicked him one day when he’d hit Tracy…and that had gotten her father involved. The captain had been drummed out of the service, but then Tracy and her mother had moved away.

  The ache of losing someone never disappeared entirely.

  Anne returned to the conversation. “As a police officer, well, I had to handle domestic violence calls.” Those involving children still haunted her dreams. Babies should be protected.

  “I thought you were a fugitive recovery agent. You’re a cop?”

  The surprise in his eyes was delightful. “I was. Olivia thinks that because my father tried so adamantly to shelter me, I naturally joined the Marines and then the police force.”

  “I can see that.” His laughter filled the car, a heartening rough roar. Still grinning, he said, “In that case, I’m glad I stayed out of the fight.”

  She snorted. “Funny man. Really, I think my family has a protect-and-serve gene, even if my male relatives refuse to acknowledge its existence in the women.”

  “But you’re not in law enforcement any longer? What happened?” His voice was casual, but his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

  “Nothing particularly ugly, Ben. I simply didn’t appreciate the bigotry against female officers.” Between the climate there and the domestic violence cases, she’d started to hate everyone with a dick.

  She added, “Later, I discovered my station had a reputation for misogyny, and I should have transferred. Instead, I bailed into bail bonds.”

  He smiled at her feeble pun. “No husbands in the past? Serious men in your life?”

  S
noopy submissive. But under his quiet interest, she didn’t mind sharing. “No husbands. Nothing serious.” She’d had a few guys in her younger days who…maybe…she might have loved. And in college, the man she’d loved had been vanilla, so that relationship had crashed and burned. And hurt.

  She probably just didn’t have it in her to love anyone deeply enough to sustain a real relationship.

  In recent years, although she’d owned longer-term slaves whom she’d loved, she’d never been “in love” with them. “You?”

  “One ex-wife.”

  He’d been married? Feeling the oddest sense of jealousy, Anne studied him. Yes, she could see him as a married man. He would tend to what was important to him with the same seriousness he gave to his other duties. His wife would have been a lucky woman. “What happened?”

  “She divorced me when I was in the service. Couple of girlfriends since, not what I’d call serious-serious. Not sure how to explain that.”

  “There should be a scale of relationship gradients.” When Ben paused for a red light, Anne’s gaze landed on a gun shop. “Something to show how deadly love is.” She considered. “A BB-gun denotes a casual first date. A .22 revolver for the first night of sex. A .38 semi-automatic for reaching the non-serious, exclusive stage.”

  “All right.” He was smiling as he turned the corner. “An M24 SWS ‘sniper weapon’ for locking on to someone—getting engaged. And maybe a Carl Gustav for doing the deed—getting married.”

  She grinned, remembering that the Carl Gustav was an antitank weapon. “There’s a cynical man. So what rating did your past flames get?”

  “One girlfriend would have been a….38. The other a .44 magnum.”

  One step above exclusive, meaning he’d been serious about the woman. “I see.”

  He hesitated and asked, “What was Joey?”

  As her spine stiffened, she bit back her first response—none of your business. But, perhaps it was. “I’d say a .38, because I don’t go over a .38.”

  The tiny muscles beside his eyes tensed as if absorbing a blow. “Got it.”

  “I don’t have typical man/woman relationships, Ben. You could call that a hard limit with me. I have slaves. I care for them—love them even—but never in a man-woman-love kind of way.”

  He nodded.

  Time to change the subject. Past time. “You were good with Paige today.” She turned to give Bronx a pat. “And so were you, baby.”

  Bronx responded with a delighted thumping of the tail and a sneaky finger lick.

  “I’ve had practice with Marcus’s crew,” Ben said. “When he takes his martial arts teens out, he asks for volunteers to herd the pack.”

  “Ah. Well, you gave Paige something to think about.” Thoughtlessly, she laid her hand on his thigh. The way his muscles went taut under her touch shifted the dynamic between them to something more sexual.

  She was afraid that their dating score was rising rapidly from a nice .22 to something with more impact. What was she going to do about this?

  “What do you mean?” he asked, derailing her thoughts.

  “Her parents taught her that women are passive. That a man would never tolerate an assertive woman.” She grinned. “Definitely not an aggressive one.”

  “Fucking stupid.”

  “Exactly. But now Paige has seen a woman fight back and heard a confident man say he enjoyed the show—and still likes said woman.”

  “I did like the show,” he said.

  “I noticed.”

  He snorted. “You did, huh?”

  Paige hadn’t noticed, but Anne had spotted the very large bulge in Ben’s jeans. He deserved to be rewarded for such a lovely reaction, but it wouldn’t be—

  He put his hand over hers and slid it up to his groin. He was still semi-hard. “I get your limit, Ma’am. But lots of people have limits and still manage to have sex. Let’s have sex.”

  Her body stilled at the surge of desire. And yet…“I don’t want you to be hurt, Ben.”

  He glanced at her, his tawny tiger’s eyes intent. “Anne, do you like it when people restrict your life because they’re afraid you’ll get hurt?”

  His words were a light stinging to the face, waking her up.

  His smile appeared…until she cupped his cock. “Well, Benjamin, we wouldn’t want to worry about you getting hurt, now would we? Want to meet at my place?”

  * * * *

  Ben knew for a fact that he was going to have a fucking heart attack—fucking soon—and Mistress Anne would be stuck explaining why she had a naked dead man sprawled on his back in her bed.

  Why there were finger dents in her headboard.

  She nipped his cock.

  “Jesus!” His head rose off the bed, and he glared at her.

  The Mistress raised an eyebrow. “I’d suggest you stop thinking, Benjamin. Or else.” Her fingers cupped one of his balls, then the other in a warm threat. When she squeezed, sweat broke out on his body.

  As her fingernail scraped the sensitive spot just in front of his asshole, lights danced in his vision.

  And when she released his junk, the blood flowed straight to his dick, which was already straining against the leather strands wrapped around it.

  His head fell back on the pillow as every muscle in his body turned rigid.

  He needed to come. So. Fucking. Bad.

  When she smiled at him—hell, that was almost enough to get him off. She was magnificent, all naked, her skin a golden tan. High, full breasts with tight nipples. Heavy-lidded eyes. Mouth swollen from his kisses. She looked like one of those female sex demons—a succubus—the ones no man could resist.

  As she bent closer, her hair spilled over his groin in silky sweetness and her sultry laugh stroked his skin with warmth. And then he felt…

  Oh, Jesus, she wouldn’t…

  She did.

  Her tongue traced over the head of his cock. The wet heat circled the slit and licked over the leather. His erection managed to engorge even further. The laces grew painfully tight as she teased him. Nipped the helmet. Sucked lightly.

  His body started to shake. His clenched hands cramped around the oak spindles. The groan that escaped him couldn’t have come from anything living.

  “All right, Benjamin. I think you’re ready, and I’ll even give you a choice today. Do you want me to ride you or do you want the top?”

  Could he talk without shouting? He breathed out—and swore he could still feel her fingernails on his nipples. “Top. Please. Mistress.”

  Her disconcertingly strong, delicate hands stroked up and down his thighs. “So be it. When I release the last strand and after I put a condom on you, you may let go of the headboard and jump me.”

  Her lips curved in an innocent smile, as if she’d just agreed he could have a cookie rather than permitting him to fuck her senseless. She was screwing with his mind as easily as she’d tormented his body. Sadist.

  And he’d never been so hard in his damned life. What did that make him?

  She, ever so slowly, unwound each leather strip, and he felt the blood rush back into his dick, like the ocean at high tide. His eyes strained as he watched her finally, unhurriedly undo the last strand.

  She rolled a condom onto him, inch-by-fucking-inch.

  Her gaze met his.

  He was on her so fast she didn’t have a chance in hell of resisting.

  Like a mindless barbarian, he tossed her on her back, shoved her legs open, and speared her in one brutal move. As all that heat sheathed him, he froze, teetering on the edge.

  He hadn’t lost control like that since he’d been a teenager.

  Snugged up tight to his groin, his balls throbbed with the pressure of an imminent explosion.

  Sweating, he fought himself back. If she moved—moved at all—he’d go off.

  She didn’t move.

  With a slow inhalation, he backed away from the precipice and opened his eyes.

  Her rich brown hair tumbled gloriously over the pillow. Her fa
ce was flushed with heat. And her eyes were filled with approval as she smiled at him. “I’m impressed, guard dog.”

  “You should be,” he growled. “I may never walk again.”

  At her laugh, her cunt constricted around him, and he sucked in air. Not yet. Please. Jesus, when he started thrusting, he wasn’t going to last long at all. “I want you to come too. First. But—”

  “Benjamin, if you didn’t get off quickly now, I’d consider myself a failure.” She grinned and picked up a remote control box from beside the pillow. “You probably didn’t notice, but I’m going to help out here.”

  A small buzzing started, and he felt the vibration on his pubic bone. He lifted up slightly. Carefully. She wore some triangle thing that covered her clit and vibrated. Fucking awesome…but when had she put it on?

  “Do I get the remote?” he asked hopefully.

  She actually laughed. “No.”

  Damn, he liked a woman who knew her mind. And his.

  As the vibrator worked its magic, he watched a flush creep up her chest, her neck, her face. Propping himself up with one hand, he used the other to enjoy her breasts. She filled his big hand just right—so firm and round. Her nipples were as rigid as small bullets. He plucked them, rolled them, making them lengthen, and enjoying the hell out of her soft sounds of enjoyment.

  Her cunt tightened around him.

  Almost. Almost.

  “Can I get you to put your legs around my waist, Ma’am?” He totally wanted her elegant little heels thumping just above his ass when he started hammering into her.

  She looked up at him in consideration. Still in control—the woman was superhuman.

  Anne had to admit, it was getting difficult to think. She was damned close to coming with the butterfly vibrator on high and all that thickness of him inside her. The man was truly hung like a bull.

  He’d asked her something—to move her legs. Right. She felt herself tightening, the pressure growing. She could give in to his request. To some extent. She cleared her throat. “If you hang onto the headboard with one hand, you may do anything you want with my legs.”

  His answer was a growl of appreciation. He yanked her left leg up to his waist and grabbed the headboard with his right hand. After moving his knees apart for better balance, he put his left arm under her right knee, lifting and spreading her, surging even deeper.