Ever so slowly, she lifted her head, sliding upward, her lips squeezing his shaft like a narrow fist.
When she sucked on the tip, small explosions lit the area behind his eyes.
“Breathe, Benjamin. If you come, I’ll be displeased. I want you to finish in me.”
She’d promised him rough sex. A blowjob and rough sex—birthday and Christmas combined.
Although…he might not live that long.
Her hands curled around his balls, rolling the nuts, even as she sucked his cock in, hard and fast, right down into her throat. Then out again. Bobbing up and down. She let him go and sent a puff of cool air over his wet skin—and she tugged on his balls.
His hips rose at the jolt of sensation.
Her teeth nipped a trail down his shaft, sending sharp zings up his spine, then she bathed him in heat when she took him back in her mouth.
The pleasure was purely fucking enormous.
She worked him, giving generously, taking him deeper than anyone ever had. Abandoning his rocks, her hand slid down to toy with the anal plug until the entire area from cock to anus merged into one sensitive nerve, shrieking for release.
Pressure built, searing in intensity, drawing his balls upward.
Even as he approached the point of no return, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his dick and squeezed. Backing him off.
He let out a groan of both relief and serious fucking frustration and met her amused…and very heated gaze.
His cock throbbed, the plug throbbed; he needed to come, but damned if he’d give up one moment of his chance to enjoy her with no restraints. With an effort, he cleared his throat. “Thank you, Ma’am. My turn? Please?”
She angled her head in agreement. “Your turn.”
Before Anne’s next heartbeat, her slave was off the lounge and on her like a savage. One second she was sitting; the next, she was flat on her back.
“Finally,” he growled, running his callused hands up and down, from her hips to her shoulders, from her pussy to her breasts.
Zeroing right in, he licked and kissed one breast before moving to the other, leaving a hot throbbing in his wake. His lips were firm, his tongue wet—and her breasts already felt overly sensitive and swollen. She must have put on weight; no more sharing his sweets.
When he drew one nipple into his mouth and sucked strongly, she closed her eyes under the inferno of desire. He was rough, his usual I’m-a-big-man restraint shattered by how deep he’d gone into subspace—and his ravenousness hit her like a hammerblow.
Feeling her control sliding away, she put her arms around him, pulled him down, and opened her legs.
Burning tiger’s eyes met hers with raw determination. “You said as I want.”
She had.
Rather than taking her, he firmly set her hands onto the cushions…and moved down her body. A nip on her stomach was soothed by the caress of his tongue.
When he nuzzled her mound, the muscles drew taut in her belly.
His breath stroked her pussy with a waft of warm air before he licked slowly over her clit with unerring precision.
The full, hot sensation lit every nerve in her lower half, and she moaned.
His head rose, and his cautious, tawny eyes regarded her for long seconds.
She could see the moment he decided she wasn’t taking back her gift—that he really could do as he wished.
He forcefully pushed her legs apart. Curling his big hands under her ass, he ran his thumbs up and separated her labia. Opened her widely. A second later, he began to…feast. His tongue was everywhere, tracing her folds, dipping in, teasing her clit, sending pleasure rioting around her system.
He sucked her, licked her. As the clawing need grew within her, her hips rose, demanding more.
“Uh-uh.” He lifted, propping himself up with a hand on her pelvis and holding her down in the process. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid a thick finger in her pussy.
Lovely new nerves wakened to life under the slow stretch and friction. More. Need more. She reached for his hair…then pulled her hands back. This was his reward—and she sure couldn’t complain of his skills.
When he added another finger, the sensuous slide of his thrusting made her breathing hitch. And then his tongue lashed her clit, top and side, as he plunged his fingers in and out in a demanding rhythm.
Up, up, everything tightened inside her. The tension built, and her legs trembled, her muscles turned taut.
His laugh rumbled against her skin and then his lips closed tightly around her clit and he sucked. Sucked hard.
Her breathing stopped completely as the pressure peaked and then an upsurge of sensation rolled over her, through her—drowning her in pleasure.
Wave after wave.
Even as she gasped for air, he flipped her onto her hands and knees, and came down on her. One iron arm curved around her waist as he fit himself to her entrance.
“Brace yourself, Mistress. I’m so fucking going to take you.”
“Be—”
He slammed into her.
She was so swollen that his penetration shocked her with the force of a blow. He felt huge, filling her to the point of pain—and yet his second violent thrust pitched her right over into an unstoppable, shocking orgasm. Her head swam as the blinding release shuddered up her center.
“Fuck, woman, yes.” His low, harsh voice rumbled against her like a landslide. Pressed deep within her, he palmed her breasts and pulled on her nipples, drawing out the waves impossibly.
God. Her fingers curled around the lounge frame. Her arms gave out, dropping her head to the cushions as her whole body sang with delight.
“Anne.” At the strained sound, she realized he’d held himself in check. Worrying about her.
From somewhere, she managed one tiny breath. “Take me, Benjamin. Hard.”
“Thank fucking Christ.” His hands seized her hips as he pulled out fast, and then he hauled her back onto his cock. Growling his pleasure, he controlled her, pushing her off his shaft and yanking her on in a rhythmic impalement. Again and again. The slapping sounds of flesh on flesh echoed in the room along with the wet noises and his grunts of enjoyment.
With each breath, she drew in the scents of sex, his clean, earthy aftershave, and tantalizing musk.
His fingers gripped her hips fiercely enough to bruise, adding the kind of erotic pain she’d given him, like a high note in the song that was sex.
And then he drove painfully deep, holding there as his thick shaft pulsed. His guttural groan was born in the depths of the earth.
God, she loved him.
He stayed still a moment, frozen in place, as the tides of pleasure flowed between them.
With a low sigh, he curved his arms around her and rolled them onto their sides, her back to his chest. Her head rested on his arm and his other hand settled over her breast. Still intimately deep inside her, he shaped himself as closely to her as he could.
He kissed her hair, rumbling something unintelligible, and then simply held her as if she was the most precious thing he had.
Her hand covered his, holding him to her, feeling his warmth all along her back, feeling the strength in his arms.
No one had ever held her like this.
With tears burning her eyes, she lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. I love you, love you, love you so, so much.
The rush of emotion was overwhelming.
Terrifying. Where were they going with this? She breathed out slowly. This was the time she was supposed to talk with him and find out what was bothering him. To learn how to make things better for him.
He curved his hand under her cheek; his thumb stroked her lips.
How did women handle such emotions? A tremor shook her as her happiness mingled with the fear of losing him.
Already, he was so inextricably connected to her that they were practically living together. She’d never allowed her slaves to become such a daily part of her life. If nothing else, she’d withdrawn from t
hem before and during her period, because, Lord knew, she turned into a bit of a grump. Although Ben hadn’t ever compl—
Between one breath and the next, her head got light. A roaring in her ears drowned out the music.
Her period.
How long since she had a period? Her heart started to thud painfully.
For sure, she’d menstruated on St. Patrick’s Day in March. Harrison had thrown a party, but she’d been flowing so heavily she’d foregone wearing her favorite white slacks.
Had she had one since? Being on birth control pills, she was always on time. She visualized the packet…she was days into the blank pills. Days late. Dismay seized her.
No…no. The lateness must be due to stress. Or something. Anything.
She’d made a sound for Ben’s arms tightened. “Anne? Was I too rough?”
Rough? She tried a laugh and succeeded. He hadn’t been too forceful, but perhaps too potent? Oh God. “No. No, you were amazing. Wonderful.” She rubbed her cheek on his palm, feeling the structure of her life start to shred.
Pushing her worries away was similar to rolling a boulder uphill, but she managed. She’d figure out what was…going on…later. Ben had been amazing. And she’d taken him pretty deep during the flogging. He needed her full attention and some pampering.
Her own concerns would have to wait.
As Anne led the way out of the private rooms upstairs, Ben’s back burned from the flogger. His asshole was tender, although the plug was gone. He shook his head. He’d hated having to admit that the anal jobbie had ignited every fucking nerve he had.
The good Mistress had known exactly what it would do.
He’d come so violently, it was a wonder his head hadn’t blown off.
Anne stopped at the head of the spiral stairs and tucked an arm around his waist. “Are you all right, my tiger?” Her heavy-lidded eyes assessed him, tallying his resources in the way he’d done with his team before taking them into enemy territory.
Although she was unusually quiet, her smile showed her pleasure in him. She’d enjoyed getting him off and didn’t hesitate to let him know.
“I’m more than good.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair was still damp from her shower—which she’d needed. She’d come as hard as he had, another thing he loved about her. No pretenses, no bullshit. She liked sex and wasn’t afraid to show it.
Smiling, he put an arm around her shoulders, needing her close. He’d never felt so much for a woman before, as if more than his body and emotions were bound to her.
“So. Did you enjoy your rough sex or…?” She lifted an eyebrow.
Or did he prefer her in charge? “I liked grabbing and taking over—as a change of pace.” He grinned. “I’m a guy; we live to hammer things. But…” The notion of her not ruling in the bedroom, not giving him orders in her throaty voice, not putting her stilettoed heel on his chest or even his balls, made him uncomfortable. As if he’d dropped his compass and GPS unit and had no stars with which to navigate. “I’m yours to command, Ma’am, and I prefer it that way.”
“I’m pleased as well.”
“And thank you, Mistress, for the treat today.” He kissed the top of her head and murmured, “All of the treats.”
Her smile held tenderness and enough caring that his heart seemed to expand within the confines of his ribcage. And yet…her eyes were vulnerable. Almost confused. His protective instincts surged to the fore.
“What’s wrong?” He started to step back.
She didn’t answer, just pulled his head down and took his mouth right there on the stairs. Her kiss was so abso-fucking-loving, her Mistress rep might well be endangered.
Or enhanced.
Fuck, he didn’t think he could fall for her further, but apparently so.
When she released him, he didn’t straighten, but smiled into her eyes. “I could use a drink if the Mistress would permit?”
“Of course. Let’s see what Cullen can round up.”
Something else he enjoyed. She didn’t deny him something just to be bitchy. Although she sure pushed that protocol shit.
The trouble was she didn’t change when she left the Shadowlands or the bedroom. When the sex was over and done, she still held the reins, and he wasn’t so sure he liked that.
Out in the field, when in reach of the enemy, he’d always wanted the chain of command clear. Wanted no questions as to who was in charge. But back at base or on leave? No.
“Uzuri,” Anne said as they walked past the trainee. “Can you bring us drinks, please? A beer for Ben, water for me. And some of the less messy finger foods?”
“Of course, Mistress Anne.”
As Uzuri glided toward the bar, Ben lifted his eyebrows. “No alcohol for you, Ma’am?”
“Since you hit subspace, I’m designated driver,” she said quietly. “And I’m tired enough that alcohol wouldn’t be wise.” One dimple dented her cheek. “You have so many muscles that it takes a long time to flog them all.”
She knew just how to make a man feel fucking pumped up.
As he chuckled, he noticed a raised hand near the center of the room at the same time she did.
Galen was motioning for them to join him.
Anne nodded and headed that direction, her arm around Ben’s waist as if she wanted to be sure he was with her. Or didn’t trust him to walk in a straight line.
As they passed through the room, she greeted various members. Ben caught a wave from Rainie, spotted Z and Cullen watching from the bar, and smiled at Linda, who sat with her Dom, Sam.
Beth stopped Anne with news that the latest addition to the shelter was doing well, although her abusive husband and all his cohorts were raising a ruckus with the woman’s family and friends as they hunted for her.
Damn good thing the shelter was well hidden.
Galen and Vance rose as they approached. “Anne. Can you join us?” Galen asked. “I had a question about skip tracing.”
“Of course.”
The men resumed their chairs with their submissive Sally kneeling on the floor between them.
Anne took the chair across from them.
Ben figured he was probably supposed to go to his knees too. As he hesitated, he noticed Raoul nearby, supervising a scene with Kim kneeling beside him.
“Benjamin,” Anne murmured and glanced at her feet.
As he settled there, he decided he was good with the position. Here. In many ways, the Shadowlands felt like an erotic war zone with the same kind of power shifts, and aside from his knees expressing their annoyance, he liked kneeling for her.
Liked her hand in his hair.
When she shifted to trap him between her legs, he felt only satisfaction.
He turned so he could slide an arm around her hips. Her split skirt had fallen open, and he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, inhaling the fragrance of freshly clean skin and the lotion she used on her legs.
Instant turn-on since these scents marked his favorite erotic path. Starting here, he could travel upward and reach journey’s end. Or the beginning. He kissed an inch higher and caught the scent of her delicate musk.
When he tried for another inch, the Mistress smacked the back of his head and gave him a reprimanding look.
He could only grin. After any scene when she’d combined pain and pleasure, he’d noticed the strangest contentment, as if the bond between them would grow to encompass more than just hearts and souls. “Sorry, Ma’am.”
She huffed a laugh. “Such a bad subbie.” As she stroked his hair, he tilted his cheek into her hand as Bronx would. Hell, he’d be happy to be her pet.
Here, at least.
What did she think, though? What did she want? She was so bloody reserved. Fucking honest, yes, but getting past her defenses was akin to assaulting a medieval castle.
They needed to talk. Soon. But right now, his head was still on the fuzzy side. Discussions could wait. With a sigh, Ben contented himself with being close.
After a m
inute, he realized Raoul was watching them and frowning. Probably because he saw one well-used guy wearing only jeans, hair loose, with a bite mark on his neck. In contrast, Anne was perfectly made up and clean.
It undoubtedly looked as if she’d worked him over good without breaking a sweat. Without getting involved in the least.
He laughed silently. She looked so put together because she’d popped into the shower and cleaned up. In fact, she’d given him a half-smile as she did so, saying, “I have to uphold the honor of all Mistresses everywhere.”
He could have joined her, but his legs had felt like over-stretched rubberbands. And when she’d run her hands over his damp chest and said she’d enjoy showing off her sweaty submissive, he’d have denied her nothing.
Uzuri returned with their drinks.
Anne took the beer—a Brooklyn Lager—put it into Ben’s hand and accepted the water. “Thank you, Uzuri.”
As Anne fed him the food, taking only a few bites for herself, she, Galen, and Vance discussed search techniques, software she preferred for skip tracing, and tricks used in changing identities.
In a comfortable haze, Ben drank his beer. At some point, he realized he was leaning with all his weight against her legs—strong woman—while her fingertips traced patterns on his shoulders.
Yeah, he liked right where he was. And he’d think about the rest when his head was on straight.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Anne stood in her bathroom the next morning, counting off seconds as she watched the strip from the pregnancy kit.
Misery burned in her gut when she thought of the way she’d left Ben earlier.
He’d still been half-asleep when she’d slid out of his bed, kissed him, and told him she needed some quiet “alone” time. And that she’d see him on Monday.
“What the fuck?” he’d said. Waking completely, he’d tried to grab her hand, but she stepped away and firmed her resolve. Pulled on her Domme armor.
“Tomorrow, Benjamin,” she’d said firmly. The unhappiness in his eyes had hurt her heart. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Servicing the Target Page 27
