Servicing the Target

by Cherise Sinclair

  Lovely. Her body was humming with need, the hot shower cooler than the blaze of her skin.

  In the bed, she had him stretch out, his poor reddened cock standing straight as a flagpole. “You want me to climb on, don’t you?” she asked, smearing the pre-cum on the head.

  Oh, the joys of having the control in her hands, to have the fun of teasing and taunting the guard dog.

  And how she loved him. Unable to resist, she bent to take his lips. He gave to her so freely, even as his hands rubbed her shoulders, stroked her arms, fondled her breasts.

  When she lifted her head, his glowing eyes were the color of old amber. “More, please.”

  “Don’t worry, my tiger. I’m going to give you more.” She opened her bedside table. The first thing to come out was the lube.

  He tensed slightly.

  “I have a desire to possess all of my domain.” She chose a toy he hadn’t experienced before. It formed a long curve, made up of a combination of cock and ball rings that terminated in an anal plug.

  Tonight, as their previous behaviors were being altered, she needed to prove to herself that here in bed, he was happy as her submissive. “Bend your knees Benjamin.”

  She loved the rush of color into his face, the conflict in his gaze. She could almost read the battles going on in his mind. He hated having anything in his ass, even as he craved how powerfully he got off with anal play. And the act of being penetrated was both humiliating— which he hated—and submissive, which he desired.

  But when it came down to it, he’d do as she requested because he was hers. He loved to please her. Did he have any idea how much she felt the same?

  He hadn’t moved. “Bend.” Gripping his cock, she tugged a warning.

  His muscled legs lifted.

  “Very good.” Smiling, she applied cool lube to his asshole in preparation. Then she started attaching the device. Modified to her specifications—with him in mind—the stretchy ring fastened around the base of his cock.

  His shaft seemed to enjoy the attention.

  Farther down the curve was the adjustable ring that wrapped around high on his ball sac, forcing his heavy testicles downward. Preventing them from drawing up against his groin. His gaze was on her face, so hot, so intent…with a lovely edge of worry.

  The front half of the device was for the cock and balls. The rest of the arc was all about the prostate and made of firmer material.

  Right after the ball ring was a vibrating bump that would press against the taint—the outer prostate area located between his balls and anus.

  He made a faint sound when the vibrations hit there.

  And for the grand finale… With a wicked smile, she slowly eased the anal plug in. Longer than two inches, the rounded end was perfectly designed to stimulate the prostate from the inside.

  “Fuck.” His head lifted from the bed, the cords in his neck straining.

  Perfect. If a cock could be considered similar to a clitoris, she figured the prostate was much like a woman’s G-spot.

  “Please tell me you’re planning to climb on and ride,” he gritted.

  “Soon, guard dog, soon.” She’d like nothing better.

  But if she could get him off without ejaculating, he’d be able to come again. Multiple orgasms for her tiger—it seemed the least she could do.

  First, she’d rev him up a bit further.

  She pumped some lotion from the bottle on the bedside stand and rubbed it into her arms. “A woman should keep her skin moisturized for the enjoyment of her man.”

  His eyes on her were hot enough to sear.

  Another pump. She lotioned her shoulders.

  “Seems as if the man should help out—since all that soft skin is for him,” he offered.

  “That does sound logical,” she agreed amiably.

  “Yes.” He tried to sit up and froze as everything she’d put on him pulled and tugged. With a growl, he continued out of the bed, moving carefully.

  Excitement simmered within her as she looked at him. His body was tense from head to toes, already well stimulated. He certainly wasn’t thinking of anything except the moment…and her.

  She took his place on the bed and opened her legs, letting him kneel between them. His hands were huge and hot, the lotion disconcertingly cool as he stroked it down over her front before returning to concentrate on her nipples.

  And another gift of pregnancy, she was not only slightly larger, but also very sensitive. He grinned when she squirmed under his usual pressure, then lightened his touch. “I get the impression you’re as turned on as I am, Mistress.”

  His hair brushed her breasts as he spread the lotion over her stomach, following with kisses.

  He reached her mound.

  Oh. Yes.

  His tongue found her clit, circled. When he started to use his fingers, she ordered, “Tongue and lips only, please,” and gripped his hair to enforce her will.

  The vibration of his laugh teased her nerve endings. He ran his tongue over her clit, wiggled it against the sides, descended to circle and probe her entrance, then returned to suck lightly.

  His hips rocked slightly as the stimulation to his prostate began to provoke a reaction.

  When his hand moved toward his cock, she laughed. “Take hold of me, please.”

  With a huff of surprise, he snatched his hand away. Brow furrowed with concentration, he gripped her hips and gave her his full attention. Sucking and licking. Such a beautifully hot tongue—and he was uncannily clever at reading her reactions.

  Because he loved her.

  And God, she loved him. Her hand stroked his head before she fisted his hair again, making him laugh.

  Heat grew inside her, the gathering of pressure focused high and in her clit, tightening, tightening.

  As it did, she could feel his grip on her hips become painful as his own climax approached.

  And then he closed his mouth over her clit and sucked, flickering his tongue over the top between each vigorous pull. The ribbons of sensation flowing through her system gathered into a tight, colorful ball. More…

  Between one breath and another, she exploded, her core pulsing and sending bright streams of pleasure surging outward.

  His breath was hot on her pussy, the whine of his own approaching climax almost audible, as she clasped his hair. “Benjamin, look at me.”

  His head lifted, his eyes dark with lust.

  She held his gaze, fingertips of one hand stroking his cheek.

  The scent of her cinnamon lotion, of her juices, filled him with every breath. Her hand in his hair clamped down almost painfully as she stroked his face sweetly.

  And that fucking thing she’d put on him hummed and vibrated against an incredibly sensitive place on his groin.

  Her clear blue-gray eyes were the most beautiful eyes in the universe, all framed by those thick, dark lashes, and she watched him as the pressure built at the base of his spine and in his cock and low inside him, somewhere deep in his core. Tighter and tighter.

  He stared into her eyes, unable to look away, held by her hand, her voice, her eyes.

  “Come, Benjamin,” she said softly. “Let it happen.”

  And fuck, fuck, fuck, it did. The climax was nothing he’d ever felt before, shaking his body, an impossible brilliant orgasm that somehow happened without him shooting his wad.

  His back arched, pulling his hair against her grip. And then it was over. His heart was hammering, fit to destroy him.

  Her gaze dropped to his groin.

  She smiled. “Let’s see if you can still perform, guard dog.”

  Seriously? He looked down. His impossibly erect dick was straining toward her. He pulled in a breath. The fucking vibrations were still hitting him and each time he moved, the rings on his cock and his balls tugged and dragged like squeezing fingers.

  Perform. Her pussy was wet and slick and her legs were open and…

  She was going to kill him dead.

  He lifted his gaze to see if she reali
zed what would happen if she let him loose to…

  Her eyes were soft and the look in them hit his heart like a Ma Deuce round, knocking him back, filling his chest as her love went singing through every cell in his body.

  “I love you,” he grated.

  Her eyes filled with tears, shocking him, terrifying him.

  “Anne.”

  And then she’d blinked them away. “I love you, too. But if you don’t take me right now, I’ll still beat your ass.”

  “Now there’s the Mistress I adore,” he muttered—and sheathed himself in her wet heat with one forceful thrust.

  She gasped.

  A second later, his cock felt as if it’d been submerged in a boiling tub of sheer fucking pleasure.

  “Fuuuuck!” His roar echoed off the walls. Her and that damned abrasive bath mitt. He fought for control as the vibrating devil’s device started bringing him back up.

  And she was laughing.

  Sweat slicked his chest and back. His entire lower half was one massive exposed nerve. His dick burned with each movement in her incredibly tight, hot cunt—and all he could think about was how much he’d missed her husky laugh.

  He grinned at her and palmed her breasts. How could anything be so soft and firm at the same time? “You’re an evil Mistress.”

  Every laugh contracted her cunt around him. “Move, Benjamin,” she suggested.

  “Fucking happy to oblige.” He planted an arm beside her shoulder and lifted her ass with his other hand, surging in even deeper.

  Her right leg wrapped around his waist, her left around his hips, and her arms clasped his shoulders.

  He felt surrounded with her scent, her strength, her body.

  “Let go, my tiger,” she whispered. “I don’t break.”

  He knew that. No matter what life handed her, she didn’t break.

  She’d be beside him as they moved forward, supporting him as he guarded her in turn. Yeah, they were going to make it.

  Growling, he held her hips to him and pulled out, pressed in. God, the feeling of wet heat was too fucking much. With a low groan, he totally lost control, hammering into her, hard and fast.

  As his cock swelled further, the ring at the base grew tighter, keeping the pressure inside him rising and rising. Jesus, he needed to come. The other ring pulled his balls downward. The thing in his ass zinged with every movement, the vibrations behind his junk kept shifting with every thrust.

  Fuck.

  Her trembling legs gripped him as she reached her own moment. Her body arched backward, and he felt her cunt squeezing him in spasms as she came. Sheer beauty.

  Shaking, he held himself back, reveling in the sight. She was so fucking gorgeous when she climaxed.

  As she sagged back on the bed, her eyes opened, almost completely blue, and clear as after a tropical storm. Her smile said it was his turn.

  Yeah, he loved her.

  He let the sensations engulf him as he thrust hard, harder, harder, pressing deep.

  And then she tilted her hips and deliberately squeezed her pussy around him—and nothing in the world could have kept him from shooting off.

  Jesus, he could feel the molten heat flooding from his rocks, the pleasure searing as it worked past the ring on his balls that forced it to travel so fucking, fucking far, all the way to his cock, through his cock, and blazing out in violent, ball-squeezing glory until his entire body was shuddering and each separate cell sang with his climax.

  * * * *

  Sometime later, Anne lay with her head on Ben’s shoulder, tucked against his side, still shimmering with pleasure. The man had incredible control.

  How she loved him.

  And now…she needed to muster her courage. With a sigh of effort, she moved up onto one elbow. The moonlight shone through the balcony doors, illuminating the bed like a fairy tale. Lighting the stern, tanned face of her prince.

  At her movement, he opened his eyes. His lips twitched. “Mistress, if you want more, you’re going to have a dead body in this bed.”

  She laughed and loved the way a grin transformed his features. “You’re safe, guard dog.” With one finger, she traced over his thick eyebrows, the lines beside his eyes. There was the bump where his nose had been broken. His lower lip was slightly fuller than the top. A scar made a thin line on his right jaw. “Ben, are you truly comfortable with being submissive in the bedroom?”

  Under her fingers, his brows drew together. “You still worried about that?” He took her hand and kissed the fingertips. “Been looking for this all my life and not knowing what was missing. My Mistress reigns in the bedroom, and that’s just the way I want it.”

  Well, that was firm enough.

  He ran his hand through her hair, pushing the long strands out of her face. His brows drew together. “What’s wrong, Anne?”

  She flattened her hand on his chest, feeling the slow thud of his heart under the thick pectorals. Her pulse had increased as fear slowly unraveled her assumed composure. “I need to talk with you about something else.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Let’s discuss children,” she said in an even voice. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice her hand was trembling.

  He blinked. “You move fast, Mistress.” His lips curved as he ran his hand down her waist, over her hip, to squeeze her ass. “Guess that’s one way to keep us equal. You rule the bedroom. Outside of it, I’ll keep you barefoot and pregnant.”

  “You might well get punished for making jokes like that.” Her lips curved. The oaf.

  He grinned, then sobered. “Anne, I love you. I’ll give you as many babies as you want if that’s what you’re asking.”

  She could only stare at him. His statement was…more…than she’d dreamed of.

  “Mistress, this is when you say the words back,” he prompted. And his gaze deepened, his grip on her growing painful. “I love you, Anne,” he said slowly again.

  Of course he’d worry, what with her saying they had to talk. His insecurity snapped her out of her paralysis and gave her the right path.

  Still on one elbow, she stroked his cheek, feeling the dense bone structure like an outward representation of his solid character. She indulged herself with a slow, sweet kiss before whispering, “I love you, Benjamin. More than I can possibly tell you…but I’ll keep trying.”

  The rising moon lit his face, showed the warmth in his amber eyes.

  Oh, she really, really did love him.

  The next sentence required all her courage.

  “As to giving me babies?” She took his hand and flattened it on her stomach. “You already did that.”

  Fuck, she was cute sometimes. Ben grinned at his woman. “Right.”

  She didn’t laugh.

  “What?” The import of her words circled inside his head, buzzing faintly, like an insect that couldn’t quite be seen. No, no fucking way could she mean…

  She was still holding his hand on her belly.

  His voice came out higher, not his at all. Maybe one of those rings had emasculated him. “A baby?”

  “Mmmhmm. I’m pregnant.” She sighed. “This wasn’t exactly in my plans.”

  “But, you’re on the pill.” He stopped, knowing he was stuttering.

  “That first day we were together? I’d spent the previous three days sick with the stomach flu. Throwing up everything, including my pills.”

  That was the night he’d started to fuck her without a condom. His fault. “God, I’m sorry, Anne.”

  “Not all your fault. Not all mine.” Her hand was still over his. “I’m going to call this the forces of the universe coming together to create a child.”

  A baby.

  A little tiny life like…like Sophia.

  A baby.

  His baby.

  He’d be a father. The thoughts spun in his head, a whirlwind of shock and…sheer glory.

  “Jesus, Anne.” He pulled her down, wrapped his arms around her, tried to express how he felt with his embrace. He laid his cheek
on the top of her head. “We’re going to have a baby.”

  Her laugh was soft. No, she wasn’t angry with him. Wasn’t unhappy about the baby. She’d had time to get past the shock.

  He remembered how she’d held Sophia. How she’d talked to the child at the shelter. How she snuggled with Bronx. Her big heart would easily expand to loving another.

  And him? He already loved it—whoever the little one turned out to be. My child. “We need to get married.”

  Her shoulders shook with her laugh. “And now who’s moving fast?”

  “But…she…he can’t be born without my name. We have to get married. Tomorrow.”

  Silence.

  He sighed. “All right. Too fast. You want to live together first?”

  “I think that might be wise.”

  “Got it.” He pulled her closer, if that was even possible. Fuck, he loved this woman. “We’ll get married in two weeks then.”

  She smacked the top of his head with her open palm.

  Fine. A month.

  Chapter Thirty

  Anne leaned against the railing of her deck. The day after the storm held a gloriously blue sky and sparkly clean, brine-scented air. Downed palm fronds and piles of seaweed littered the beach, creating challenging obstacles for Harrison’s children as they chased Bronx.

  Her niece and nephew thought Ben’s dog was a marvelous toy. Anne knew that Bronx thought exactly the same thing about human children.

  Sipping after-dinner wine, Harrison and his wife had positioned themselves near the edge of the deck where they could keep an eye on their offspring.

  Both chowing down on seconds of Anne’s chocolate cake, Ben and Travis sat at the adjacent table with her mom and dad.

  Her family was a unit, once again.

  After talking—and making love—through the night and Sunday morning, she and Ben had invited them over for a Memorial Day gathering.

  The late afternoon barbecue would be the perfect venue in which to make her announcement…which she hadn’t managed yet, much to Ben’s amusement.

  Well, honestly, she just hadn’t found the right time to introduce a whole new topic of dissension. She studied the group around the table.