by Marie Harte
Maggie stared at it, in awe of what it represented. “So you’re good with me being your sub…forever?”
He nodded.
“Just our little secret,” she whispered. “And you’re sure it doesn’t bother you about what I need? Like, the spankings and the bondage sometimes? The submission? I mean, it turns me on,” she said while blushing, needing him to truly understand this meant everything to her.
Mac fit his hand around her throat and squeezed, and she shivered, in lust and in love. “I need the same things only you can give me. This isn’t a game for me, Maggie. I need you in my life. In my bed. Telling me what to do at the gym.” He swallowed and took his hand away. “Ian finally offered to give me full control.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I wanted to talk to you about it first. Oh, and he and Mimi are a thing now. I ran into them one morning at my place. The morning after.”
Maggie grinned. “You poor thing. I bet Mimi scared you.”
“You have no idea.” He paused. “But about Ian’s offer. What do you think?”
“You need to boss people around. It suits you.”
“You suit me.” Mac picked up the collar. “Will you accept this?”
“I do.” The words made her shiver. “So are you trying to get out of an engagement ring?”
He chuckled as he fastened the silver chain around her throat. It fit perfectly. “No. I figured we’d take it slow. If I don’t drive you insane with my bad habits, and I can handle you being perky in the morning, I figure we could make a go of it.”
“Make a go of it?”
He shrugged. “Get married, have kids, everything.” He stared down at the choker. “I’ve never asked anyone for so much before, Maggie. But I’m asking you.”
“Mac.” She smiled through tears.
He smiled with her, relief there in his deep blue eyes. “It looks right on you, baby. My little sub.”
She touched the choker, and a huge ball of joy filled her. “My Master.”
“We have this room. A big bed, all to ourselves for”…Mac squinted at the clock…”another four hours until your surprise party.”
“Surprise party?”
“Act surprised.”
“I will. But we have so much time right now. What shall we do?” She stripped naked.
“That’s a very good start.”
“Can I give my master a suggestion?”
“As long as it involves me coming in your mouth, pussy or ass, sure thing.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I saw that. Oh yeah, you’re in sore need of some discipline.”
“Take the job at the gym. I’ll move into your place.” Was she rushing them?
“You can use the garage for your art studio.” Apparently not. He stared at her breasts. “I measured. It has plenty of room to store your equipment, and I could seal it in and heat the place to make it more comfortable for you.”
He wants me with him. Maggie knelt before him and took him out of his pants. She licked the underside of his shaft.
“Fuck.”
“Yes, Master. We need to fuck. I’ve been empty without you.” She licked and sucked on his cock while he rocked into her mouth.
“No,” he rasped and drew her to her feet, then tossed her on the bed as if she weighed nothing.
She loved when he did that.
“We do this my way.” He shucked out of his clothes then mounted her and thrust deep. “That’s it. Right there. Yeah. We come together, sub. I love you, Maggie.”
“I love you too, Sir.”
“Even though you have yet to beat me at anything, I love you,” he taunted between thrusts.
Maggie clenched him tightly between her legs. Then she turned her attention to his chest and gave in to the urge to suck and bite his nipples.
She noticed his reaction and sucked his nipples harder.
Mac’s thrusts grew wilder, his breaths faster. He grazed her clit with each pass, and she rode the passion between them, conscious that his pleasure made everything better.
“Yes, Master. Let me pleasure you, Sir,” she begged, on fire to have him. “Come in your willing sub.”
“My dirty little sub,” he growled and came hard, just before she did.
After some time, she roused to feel him stroking her hair. “Dirty, huh?”
“Well, it sounded nicer than naughty slut.” He grabbed her hand before she could slap his chest, and chuckled. “Whatever you are, you belong to me, so it’s all okay,” he said softly. “Fuck, but I missed you, Maggie.”
She nodded. “Me too.” Then she grinned as something dawned on her. “I won.”
“What?”
She rolled him onto his back and sat over him. “Ha! You came first. I won. I beat you.”
He shook his head. “I beat you, Sir. Now I have to spank that ass, because how can my sub look so fine wearing her collar if Master doesn’t give her the discipline and love she needs?”
She blinked down at him and lowered her head. But her smile bloomed bright. “Yes, Master. I love you too.”
***
And don’t miss the book that first introduced Mac and Maggie, the story that drew Shane and Shelby together—Bodywork.
An excerpt from BODYWORK
By six thirty, Shelby had finished with her last client of the day and waved as the kind woman departed. Arching her back, she tried to rub away some of her own tension, knowing her night was far from over. She returned to the front desk to catch up on paperwork.
Massage therapy helped rid the body of contaminants and generally relieved stress. Yet more times than not, Shelby found herself mired in bills and the business side of things rather than dealing with the healing nature of her profession.
The phone rang, breaking into her thoughts. After taking the message, she frowned at the closed door of her massage room, wishing like hell the contractor would finish patching up the wall in Denise’s room. She checked the appointment book and noted Shane Collins scrawled in Denise’s barely legible handwriting. The appointment listed at six o’clock, so Denise more than likely had another half hour to go. Damn, she hated to interrupt the massage, but she knew Denise would need to act on the message right away.
Shelby knocked quietly on the closed door and heard a low murmur from the room. Denise opened the door an inch and peered out.
“What’s up?”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got a message for you that’s urgent.”
“No problem.” Denise called over her shoulder, “Shane? I’m sorry. I have to take this call, but I’ll be right back.” A low male voice answered before she left the room and closed the door behind her, then moved to the desk. “So who called?”
“Sorry, but it’s the man in your life. I’m afraid he’s broken his leg.” Shelby waited for the worried explosion sure to follow. Denise was fanatical about her man.
“Oh my God! Cupcake! What happened? Was that my mother?”
“Yeah. Your mom said he must have gotten loose somehow and ran out of the yard. A car driving at the speed limit hit him, so he’s not too roughed up. I know you’ll want to see how he’s doing. Why don’t you go, and I’ll finish up your client?”
Denise had tears in her eyes. Cupcake meant the world to her. A scrawny mutt she’d picked up at the pound, he’d been with her through thick and thin. “Are you sure?” Denise wiped her eyes.
Shelby handed Denise her car keys from the desk and nodded. “Go on home. Give me a call later and let me know how he’s doing.”
Denise flew out the door, and Shelby shook her head. She prayed, for Denise’s peace of mind, that the dog would make it.
Realizing she now had a client to pacify, she quickly moved into the bathroom to wash her hands and returned to her room. She entered to the soothing sounds of new age music and the slight aroma of jasmine from the burning candles in the corner. Dim yet peaceful, the room radiated serenity and relaxation.
“I’m sorry about the interrupt
ion,” she said quietly to the man lying on his stomach with his head down and resting in the doughnut-shaped pillow which allowed for ease of breathing. He appeared almost asleep, his back rising and falling evenly, but he mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear. Before she could say anything more, he turned his head to the side, his eyes still closed.
Shelby barely contained her dismay. Upon her table lay the half-naked form of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rude from this morning, his upper body bare, a sheet draped over his lower back, buttocks, and legs. She glanced at the clothing rack on the wall to confirm his identity. The same black jacket and dark trousers hung from a hook, along with a blue shirt.
She stared back down at him and resisted the urge to lean into his ear and yell at him to get the hell out of her clinic. That would scare the impoliteness out of him. But her professionalism wouldn’t let her. Word of mouth traveled fast, and this guy already didn’t like her. She frowned at the thought of him telling people bad things about her clinic and could almost see the dollar signs flying away.
Grimacing at his unfairly handsome face, she wondered why he’d ventured into her clinic, of all places. Seattle had more than fifty massage clinics open at any given time, yet Mr. Rude managed to pick hers. Some cosmic joke at work, surely. She swore under her breath.
“I’m going to turn your head so you don’t strain your neck.” She turned his face back into the doughnut-shaped pillow. Frowning at the feel of his skin under her palms, she felt uncomfortable with the heat that raced up her arms. She shook off the strangeness and focused on the rest of the massage.
As she continued to work on his back, she couldn’t help noticing the smooth muscles and power in his build. He had a very nice body, she thought with objectivity. As a person comfortable and familiar with human physiology, she was a good judge of such things. And a person would need to be blind and plain oblivious not to see that this man kept in very good shape. He had wonderful tone and definition. Working on him was actually very easy due to his fluidity.
As she brought clinical detachment to the forefront of her thoughts, she scrambled to bury the needy woman inside her screaming to see how his ass might feel under her hands.
“Does that feel all right?” she asked softly. She didn’t want him to know she wasn’t Denise. He needed to get his money’s worth and at the same time think positively about Bodyworks. If she gave him a great massage, he’d be too relaxed to be angry with her when he paid her at the session’s end and recognized her. She hoped.
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “That feels great.”
The sexy rasp of his voice made her belly flutter. Her massage wasn’t in the least bit sexual, but she couldn’t help feeling arousal at contact with his body. God, I am not getting turned on by this guy. He’s a lump of clay, something I can mold into healthy muscles.
She continued to work on his back. Then she changed position to work on his legs, keeping the sheet in place over his firm, tight ass. Buttocks, not ass. Ass is sexy. Buttocks is professional. She felt like a mental patient at odds with herself. Not the best time for slutty Shelby to make an appearance.
“I need to move the sheet so I can get to your legs.” Even as she said it she hesitated, waiting for his assent, half hoping he’d insist he didn’t need any more of her time, half wishing he’d tell her to get rid of the sheet and hop on.
“Go ahead,” he rumbled. “I’m half asleep as it is.”
Shelby gritted her teeth and moved the sheet. Then she worked on the muscles of his legs, moving over his hamstrings and calves. They were rock hard and incredibly sexy—firm, athletic. Not sexy. Clients were never sexy. Rule number one of massage.
“Are you a runner?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Mmm, hmm. Every day I can.”
“Your legs are very toned.” She worked a rough section of his upper thigh. Smoothing over the fascia, the connective tissue covering the muscle, she released a build-up of toxins in his body. He sighed, and she moved down toward his calves, then to his feet.
He shifted a bit, and she stopped.
“Does it tickle?”
He mumbled a yes, and she grinned. Maybe she could torture him by tying him down and tickling his feet, demanding an apology for her ruined coffee. Or better yet, she could tie him up and blindfold him, then have her wicked way with him with none the wiser.
Oh hell. Her sexual hiatus had come to a crashing halt. For some stupid reason, this jerk had jumped her libido but good. She hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind all day, and she’d tried. Now, after touching him… She glanced down at her nipples, horrified to see them through her shirt, standing at attention.
She’d blame her obvious arousal on the air conditioner if she had to. She might be able to ignore that, but the tingling between her legs and her racing pulse? Not so much.
Why did Mr. Rude have to have the best ass she’d ever not seen, the sexiest legs she’d ever felt, and the smoothest skin she’d ever touched?
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, calling on every ounce of professionalism and neutrality she could muster. It really wouldn’t do to have her client catch her ogling his body. She could lose her license for less.
Shelby opened her eyes and reined in her crazy impulses, determined to give him what he paid for. But she needed him to turn over to finish. Good God, she could all too easily imagine giving him a “happy ending” and turning into the cliché from hell.
Let it go, woman. Finish the massage, then go find a man.
“Okay Shane. Now I need you to turn over so I can do your front.” Ignore the innuendo. Ignore the innuendo.
He visibly tensed, and she held her breath, praying.
Other Contemporary Romance by Marie Harte
Bodywork
Enjoying the Show
Closing the Deal
Tied and True
Reaper’s Reward
Satyr’s Myst
Willa’s Wish
And for paranormal and futuristic romance by Marie, visit her website, where she has more than sixty titles to choose from. www.marieharte.com
About the Author
Marie Harte is an avid reader who loves all things romantic. Reading romances since she was twelve, she fell in love with happy endings and knew writing was her calling. Over twenty years later, the Marine Corps, a foray through Information Technology, and children, her dream has finally come true. Marie lives in Oregon with her family and loves hearing from readers.
To read more about Marie, visit http://www.marieharte.com
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