“You hungry, angel?”
Still struggling for air, her glassy gaze slowly rose to his and she nodded. “Yes, Sir. I’m starving.”
Fuuuck.
The honesty of her words and the sincerity in her tone squeezed his chest so tightly he could barely breathe. Ian had been gone for almost a year—eleven months, twenty-four days—so she was no doubt not only starving to have her physical needs met, but also desperately in need of love and affection. He would stop at nothing to give her two of the three but doubted his ability to pull off love in the way she needed. He only hoped his efforts to meet the other two needs satisfied her, at least for now.
After tossing his clothes over the arm of the desk chair, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and leaned in to brush his cheek against hers. A barely there moan escaped her lips, and she swayed forward, seeking more of his touch. He buried his nose in her thick blond hair and breathed deep, once again trying to absorb as much of her scent as possible. “Will you trust me to take care of you… to make sure you’re well fed?”
She shivered in response, but he never doubted her body would be on board with the plan. He really needed to know if she was willing to give herself over emotionally, especially given his less-than-stellar track record.
He pulled back so she could see his eyes, then lifted the shades that normally hid his thoughts so she could see his determination to do this right. “I’m not going anywhere until you’re satisfied. And then I’ll take care of you until you can drive, or if need be, I’ll take you home myself. I won’t run out on you again.”
As her gaze searched his, presumably trying to gauge his sincerity, a pang of fear slashed through his heart and held his breath hostage. After a moment, she stood on tiptoes, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Yes, Sir. I trust you… with my life.”
Pleasure and pain ripped through him simultaneously. Earning a sub’s trust had never meant more than in this moment. But her words also served as a stark reminder that he wasn’t God or Superman or any other comic strip hero. He was just a man, and when it came to saving someone’s life, he was fucking worthless.
As heat grew around his neck and his chest compressed with the beginnings of a panic attack, he drew in a quick breath and reached into a deep well of strength and resolve to beat the motherfucker down. He gave Muriel his word. Her needs came first, and he refused to allow a fucking panic attack to mess with those plans, to stop him from seeing through on the promise he just made to this amazing, beautiful woman.
With another deep breath and a swift kick in the ass for his body and psyche to get on board with the damn plan, he nodded and said, “Thank you.” Figuring it would be impossible to lie facedown right now, he sat on the edge of the table, swung his feet up, then stretched out to get comfy.
With trembling hands, she arranged a pillow under his knees, then reached for the folded sheet to pull over him. He put up a hand to stop her and shook his head no. “I want you looking at me… all of me… while you’re touching.”
He might be playing dirty, but he’d caught her ravenous stare the week before, and he wanted that same reaction today. Multiplied by ten.
With a shaky nod, she let go of the sheet and said, “Yes, Sir. But as you relax, your body temperature will drop and you may get chilled. If that happens, please let me know so I can adjust the heat on the table or turn on the little space heater under my desk.”
“I doubt I’ll get cold.” Especially with the smoldering current flowing through his veins. “But you might, so go ahead and turn it on.”
Her brow crinkled with confusion, but she did as he instructed without hesitation, then stepped to the head of the table to begin.
Grinning, he said, “One more thing. Move to the end of the table so I can see you.” He waited until she moved into position, then said, “Take off your dress.”
She gasped and her eyes flared wide, but the rest of her body froze.
He waited a beat… two… three… “Why are you hesitating? I gave you an order.”
“Yes, Sir.” She swallowed and bit her lip. “I apologize. I was just caught off guard.”
There was still the slightest hint of hesitation as she leaned over, grabbed the bottom of her skirt, and slowly began to lift. As her bare pussy and then her bare breasts came into view, he understood her hesitation.
After she tossed the dress aside, he crooked his finger to draw her closer so he could stroke the back of his knuckle over the tight peak of her nipple. “Why aren’t you wearing panties or a bra?” He had his suspicions, but he needed to hear the answer from her lips.
As she dipped her head and glanced away, he pinched her nipple and said, “Look at me and answer.” Yeah, he was aware of the double standard, since he wouldn’t always allow her to see the truth of an answer in his eyes, but hey… given his heritage, it was a wonder he even recognized the hypocrisy of his actions.
A blush swept across her checks as she lifted her gaze and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “As a Dominant, I thought you might like me to go without, Sir.”
As he worked to maintain a steady breath, he rewarded her honesty by gentling the pull on her nipple, then massaging her breast in his palm. “Do you normally wear panties and a bra to work?”
“Panties, yes. The outfit determines whether I wear a bra or not.”
He moved to the other breast and teased that nipple into a hard peak before giving another teasing tug. “Do you normally wear a bra with that dress?”
Her eyes had drifted shut with his ministrations, but she opened them and reestablished eye contact before answering. “I haven’t worn that dress before. I bought it just for you.”
His ego, pride, and chest puffed up like a fucking peacock in full spectacle at having her buy something special for him. Cracks had been forming since the previous week at the club, but having her care enough to not only offer a massage, but to go out of her way to buy a special dress, then go the extra step to try and please him by not wearing a bra and panties… The frozen tundra of his heart dissolved into a tropical oasis, and she dove right in to claim the waters as hers.
He was neck deep in trouble but couldn’t bring himself to care if he drowned. And he sure as shit wasn’t stopping the course of events tonight because—here went the logical workings of his mind again—he promised her he wasn’t running out, and by God, he wasn’t leaving her.
Ever.
The loud, terrifyingly crystal-clear thought rang with warning of the impending danger, but his hearing had become selective and the sirens weren’t getting through.
He dropped his hand to her hip and drew her closer. “Thank you. It’s a beautiful dress and looked fantastic. But you’re more stunning without it. Now, spread your legs for me.”
The candlelight flickering off her creamy pale skin reflected a streak of arousal running down her inner thigh. He ran a finger through the slick juice, then smeared it across her leg before stroking her swollen folds. She jerked at his touch, then trembled and grabbed the edge of the table again. After another stroke across her clit, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.
His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as her sweet taste hit his tongue, and it took everything in him not to pull her up on top of him and feast on her at that very moment. “I’m looking forward to having my hunger satisfied as well. But first… you have work to do.”
Chapter 12
Since Ian wasn’t a fan of massage, Muriel had never tried working while aroused. The task was more difficult than she would’ve imagined, and as her desire continued to flow between her legs, she grew increasingly self-conscious.
Her breasts were heavy, her nipples puckered into tight points as she cradled his neck in her hands and slowly rotated his head back and forth. Her concentration, however, shattered when he reached up and pinched one of the tight peaks between his finger and thumb. She jumped with shock, then moaned with pleasure and clenched her legs to dull the throb settling
in as the sharp sting dissolved into a slow burn.
“Keep your legs shoulder width apart, angel.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and stifled her huff of frustration. There wasn’t any way he could see her squeezing her thighs together, so he must’ve instinctively known that’s how she would react. And that didn’t bode well for her—provided they had a future—because nothing would get past him.
Grudgingly, she shuffled her feet sideways, which spread her legs and allowed the air circulating the room to brush across her swollen lips, intensifying the aching need for him to touch her again.
“Open your eyes. I want you watching my cock as it strains for you… thinking about how good it’ll be when I feed you.”
She nearly moaned at the images his words created but somehow managed to keep from choking on the banked sound. “Sir, may I speak freely?”
He tilted his head to the side and looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “Of course.”
“I’m really looking forward to being fed. But that’s creating problems for me and the reason I need to close my eyes. If I don’t concentrate on what I’m doing, I’m afraid I’ll accidentally injure you. I don’t want to manipulate a muscle in the wrong direction because I’m distracted by your amazing body and not paying attention to what I’m doing.”
Tenderness, as well as something she couldn’t identify, swam in his dark-brown eyes as he stroked a finger down her cheek and smiled. “Thank you for explaining your concern. And for wanting to take such good care of me. I understand, and it’s fine for you to close your eyes if you need to.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
While he got repositioned and straightened out on the table, she closed her eyes to block his body but was immediately assaulted by an image of his massive erection stretching toward her, calling her name. God, he was glorious, and her mouth watered with anticipation of running her tongue from base to tip while his head fell back on his shoulders and his thighs tensed with the pleasure rolling through him.
“Your breathing got awfully choppy, angel.” Humor filled his voice, but chagrin had her cheeks warming with embarrassment. “Are you thinking about my massage?”
A shaky laugh, tinged with mild hysteria, jumped from her throat. “No, Sir. Not at all. But I’m trying damned hard to get my head on straight and do this right.”
White teeth flashed and his laughter rang through the room, catching her off guard. She hadn’t spent a tremendous amount of time with him over the years, but she was surprised to realize this was the first time she’d ever heard him really laugh. Warmth at being able to bring him joy filled her, and she made a conscious decision to work at bringing more joy and laughter to his life—provided he allowed her to be a part of it beyond tonight.
“Sir…” She released her grip on his head and stepped to the side of the table. “Please let me cover you so I don’t lose my mind. As soon as I’ve finished with your upper body, I’ll uncover your legs and feet so I can work on them.”
“I think we should skip the massage altoge—”
“No, Sir.”
His eyebrows rose and he propped himself up on his elbows. “Did you just cut me off and tell me no?”
Her initial reaction was to shrink back from his harsh tone, but they were in her office, he was on her table, and she was the massage therapist in charge of his well-being. Straightening her shoulders so she stood perfectly straight, she said, “Yes, Sir. I did. Can I ask how you felt after your brief massage last week? Did you sleep better the first few nights? Were you more relaxed during the day?”
His eyes narrowed as he studied her, almost as if he suspected a trap might lie in wait. “Yes.”
“I…” She drew in a grounding breath. “I want to serve as your submissive.” He’d never know how much she wanted that. “But I also want to take care of you as a massage therapist. Please let me work out some of the kinks for you.”
She held her breath and waited as his brows drew together in thought. After a moment, he nodded once and lay flat on the table again. Taking the nod as permission, she flipped the sheet over him before he changed his mind, then resumed her position at the head of the table.
With most of his body covered, she was able to concentrate on her job and get into the zone much easier. She loved giving clients a brief respite from their crazy, stressful lives, but the soul-deep satisfaction filling her from taking care of Mathew was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
Once the sexual heat reduced to a slow boil, he also relaxed and the tissue responded amazingly well. While she moved from his head and neck down to his shoulders, arms, and chest, he grew so still she wondered if he’d fallen asleep.
When the time came to work on his legs, she chewed the inside of her cheek and considered moving the sheet just enough to work on specific areas while keeping the rest of him modestly covered, as she would any other client. But she’d promised to remove it completely, so she gripped the cool fabric in her fingertips and slowly eased it down his long legs and off the end of the table.
His cock was soft but still impressive resting against his leg, and she couldn’t help but admire and appreciate him for a moment before getting to work. After several seconds of drinking him up with a thirsty gaze, it began to thicken and harden, and she licked her lips in anticipation of tasting him.
She nearly jumped out of her skin as Mathew said, “Go ahead, angel.”
Heat infused her cheeks and neck as she snapped her attention to his face. “Sir?”
“We’ve both suffered long enough. Suck my cock.”
Scorching heat crashed over her, her nipples hardened into painful buds, and her pussy wept with joy as she moistened her lips in preparation for taking him. She loved oral sex—giving and receiving—and she wasn’t kidding when she told Mathew she was starving. He was large, and she doubted she’d be able to take all of him, but giddy pleasure rippled through her as she gratefully accepted the challenge.
He tucked an arm under his head as a pillow, then threaded the fingers of his free hand through her hair. He swept it aside so he could see better as she ran her tongue along his velvety length, then opened wide and wrapped her lips around him. “Fuck, yeah. I’ve never seen anything hotter in my life.”
As a low, garbled curse followed his words of praise, joy erupted inside her. She drew back, circled her tongue around the tip, and teased the sensitive underside before drizzling spit over the head for added lubrication.
His hips surged upward and his grip on her hair tightened as he fed her, just as he promised. She wanted to watch his eyes as she worked him, but the angle was too harsh. So with priority and order of importance being a no-brainer, she closed her eyes, imagined heat and desire pouring from him, and continued to work him with her lips, mouth, and tongue.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot and rubbed her thighs together, trying to squelch the intense fire burning her from the inside out as his thrusts grew stronger, more demanding. She desperately wanted him inside her, but this was about his pleasure. Pushing her needs to the back burner, she cupped his balls in her palm and gently massaged while working to drive him closer to the edge.
“Nothing has ever felt better than fucking your mouth.” The words were ground out as if his jaws were tightly clenched. “But fucking your pussy will be even better.”
He gave a harsh tug on her hair, forcing her to release him with a pop as her mouth slid free. She wanted to cry out in protest, but he was the one who decided if she continued or not, so she beat back her starvation and complied with his wish.
“Are you on the pill?”
She blinked a few times, trying to understand his question. What did that have to do with anything? “Yes, Sir.”
“Per the club’s rules, I’m regularly tested, and I’ve never had sex with anyone without a condom. I’m clean, so if you give your consent, I’m not using one with you.”
As her train of thought caught up to his, her pulse tripled its speed and a sh
iver of excitement rippled down her spine. “I trust you, Mathew… Sir.”
A smile lifted his lips as his eyes drifted closed. “Climb up here and take what you need, Muriel.”
Take what you need?
As a long-time submissive, taking what she needed was a foreign concept. A Dom was supposed to give her what he thought she needed, and her addled mind struggled to understand. Tilting her head questioningly, she said, “What do you mean?”
He wrapped his hand around the side of her hip and lifted as he pulled her toward the table. “Come up here and fuck me.”
Oh… holy shit…
Her breath left in a whoosh and dizziness caused her to sway side to side as a rush of excitement shot through her system. With shaky hands and legs, she put one rubbery knee on the table and swung her other leg around to straddle his thighs.
She was sure she’d been on top before, but she couldn’t remember anything that came before this moment and felt incredibly inept at figuring out what to do next. When Mathew wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked once, her brain short-circuited and nature took over. She crawled up his body until she hovered over his straining erection.
He stroked her slick folds a few times, gathering moisture and smearing it around, then aligned them so all she had to do was sink onto him. She sucked in a breath, then released it on a slow moan as she planted her hands on his chest, let her head fall back on her shoulders, and took him in a slow, languorous press. The way he stretched and filled her was sweet agony.
“I’ve waited a fucking lifetime for this. You’re even more perfect than I imagined.”
As his confession filtered through her lust-filled haze, dizzying delight filled her, and not even the muttered curse that immediately followed his declaration—making her believe he hadn’t meant to speak out loud—doused her euphoria. He might not have meant to let her in on that secret, but he had, and any lingering doubts about his feelings drifted away on the breeze.
Coveted (Pandora's Playground #1) Page 13
