She glanced at the windows and realized the sun was well up. “I had no idea. Thank you, Ben.” When she took the first bite, her hunger wakened, and she finished it all.
Smiling, he took the plate and glass, set it on the coffee table. “I checked on the roads. Everything is open again.” He pulled Anne’s legs onto his lap and started kneading her bare feet.
Heaven. She’d had her feet massaged by her slaves, sometimes one male per foot, but this was the first time a man had simply done it without being directed. He used firm, powerful pressure, nothing like the tentative touch of the boys.
And she was turning into a happy puddle. She slid down farther on the couch. “You’ll never know how good that feels.”
In the bright morning light, his forbidding features softened. Her approval apparently meant something to him, even outside of the dungeon. “Don’t know why you women wear fucked-up shoes that make your feet hurt.”
Not the words she usually heard from her slaves. Head on the armrest, Anne smiled at the ceiling. “Perhaps it’s because we enjoy the way you males stare at us when we do.” Her smile widened. “Considering Z gave you charge of determining whether a submissive’s footwear is sexy enough for the club or she goes barefoot, I’d say you already lost this argument.”
He snorted. “Point to you, Ma’am. And you do walk in them more gracefully than anyone I’ve ever seen.” His fingers pulled gently on her toes, a plucking motion that sang along her nerves all the way to her breasts. Those big hands of his were incredibly sexy. “You wore boots today though.”
“Can’t chase a fugitive if I’m wearing stilettos, although the heels do make an excellent weapon.”
He squeezed her foot painfully. “You go out to round up crooks at night?”
Z’s overprotective guard dog. “Yes, Ben. Picking up fugitives is easier when there are less people around and more people in bed.”
“Jesus,” he muttered. His measuring gaze was much like that of her parents, her brothers, and the cops at her station. All considered her too delicate, too pretty, too…female to deal with anything physically dangerous.
With a sour taste in her mouth, she swung her feet down and sat up. As she pulled on her boots, she let her disgusted silence fill the room, a talent that any Domme worth her whip could employ.
“Stepped in it, didn’t I,” he said. “I’m sorry, Anne. It’s a knee-jerk reaction.”
“Of course.” He was only being protective. He hadn’t said anything rude, simply acted like a typical male. Normally, she could ignore other peoples’ opinions, but Ben’s disapproval had hurt. “No problem.”
Her boots were on. She rose. Time to head home.
He reached up and yanked her down, right into his lap, arms tight around her.
Rigid with annoyance, she gave him a look.
His arms loosened, but he didn’t release her.
“Anne.”
“What?” He had the most beautiful brown eyes she’d ever seen—amber rays shooting out from the pupil, circled by a yellow line, then a darker brown ring. And those eyes showed repentance.
“I’d prefer your kicking my balls over the goal post to seeing you unhappy. Or pissed at me. Can you maybe forgive me instead of just saying the words?”
“Well.” He was right.
As she touched his lean cheek with her fingertips, she felt his pleasure so strongly that it was almost her own. “No submissive has reprimanded me and begged forgiveness in the same sentence. Quite interesting.”
“Interesting enough to win a kiss of absolution?”
This was not a man to be underestimated. Give him an inch and he’d take the entire county. And yet, the challenge in his gaze was so, so delightful.
She bent and kissed him.
Men had such different mouths. His lips were firm and competent, his tongue canny without being aggressive or sloppy. He tasted of the mocha coffee she’d made earlier—chocolate and coffee and man. Mmm.
All man. Yet, when she took control, holding his face between her hands, slanting her mouth for a deeper kiss, he didn’t move, simply accepted and made a sound of enjoyment.
An alpha male…except with her.
Under her buttocks, he lengthened and thickened.
What kind of a challenge would he present? Arousal seeped into her blood.
Farther away, a door opened and closed. Anne looked up.
Z came into the living room, a neutral gaze on her and Ben. Anne finally interpreted it as neither approval nor disapproval. He was reserving judgment. “Anne. Benjamin. Would you care to pay a visit to our new daughter?”
“Of course.” Anne stood, took Ben’s hand, and yanked him to his feet.
As they walked to the bedroom, Ben eyed her thoughtfully. “You pack a lot of muscle in that little body.”
He really was just begging to be hurt.
Z made a sound, far too much like a muffled laugh.
Men.
Jessica was propped up in the bed on pillows. In her arms, the sleeping baby was wrapped in a pink blanket.
“She looks just like Jessica.” Ben touched the baby’s fair-skinned cheek with a finger as big as the infant’s arm. “Sorry, Z, you lost out there.”
Z’s gaze was on his mate. “I can’t think of anything more perfect.”
Eyes filling, Jessica gave him a tremulous smile. After a second, she looked up at Anne. “Do you want to hold Miss Sophia Grayson?”
“I would love to.” Anne took the tiny bundle, snuggled her close, and kissed the wispy blonde hair. What was there about holding a baby that filled something needy inside?
I want a child. The longing had grown—and been ignored—over the past year. She pressed a kiss to the little head, and Sophia’s rosebud lips made a smacking sound. “She’s beautiful, Jessica. Fine work, Z.”
She realized Ben had leaned against a wall, arms crossed—a common posture with him—and his whiskey brown eyes were studying her, probably coming to the correct conclusion: Mistress Anne was a sucker for babies.
“Well, I need to get home.” With a sense of loss, she gave the baby back to Jessica, added a quick hug for the new mother, and nodded at Z.
Ben followed her out.
In the living room, Z walked over. “We have bedrooms for both of you. Why don’t you stay and catch some sleep?”
“That’s a kind offer, but I’ll sleep better in my own bed,” she said.
“I see.” Z set a warm hand on her shoulder. “Jessica and I appreciate your assistance last night.”
“Actually, I should be thanking you for letting me be part of a miracle. Sophia is lovely.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Z’s quick smile faded. “Please be cautious on the drive home. Our country roads can be hazardous after a storm.” He hesitated and glanced at Ben.
Anne picked up her bag. “I’ll take care. You better try to catch a little sleep, Z, since it’ll be in short supply from now on.”
A smile softened his hard face.
She added, “And call me when you need a break. I’m good with babies.”
Chapter Four
Ben pulled his SUV into Anne’s drive, parked off to the side, and jumped out. Hands in his pockets, he regarded the area. He’d never seen her home in the daylight. Hell of a place.
The two-story house was dark green with white trim and raised high enough to provide a slightly sunken carport beneath—not a bad idea considering how close to the shore this was. From this angle, he could see a shoulder-high deck extended toward the water. She’d had a balcony off the master bedroom, hadn’t she? With beach houses, it was all about the ocean view.
As Anne watched him walk up the steps, her pissed-off expression made him long for a groin protector. He was in for it now.
“Choice A. You’re stalking me,” she said bluntly. “Choice B. Mama Z told you to shadow me home.”
He grinned. No flies on this woman. “B. Although I wouldn’t mind A, if it wouldn’t get me filled with bullet holes.”
His answer didn’t diminish the steam he could almost see coming from her ears. Damn, she was gorgeous when her color was up.
“Oh, honestly, Ben. That’s simply—”
“He knows you can take care of yourself in a fight. But you can’t lift a palm tree, and I doubt you carry a chainsaw in your trunk.”
“A chainsaw? Seriously?” She glanced at his Jeep Grand Cherokee.
“I’m in the wilderness a lot. Comes in handy.”
“Well.” She didn’t…quite…growl. “Right. Thank you then. This is a long way to come when you haven’t had any sleep.”
“You’re welcome, Anne.” He smiled slowly, thinking of Patton’s favorite quote, “Audacity, audacity, always audacity.” All right then. “I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Considering they’d passed a myriad of stores and coffee shops, she knew he could find his own. His request was for something else, and being the woman she was, she knew that.
She crossed her arms and looked him over like a side of beef.
It took some work¸ but he stood his ground.
And then she smiled. “You are the pushiest submissive I’ve ever met. Why am I enjoying that?” She motioned him into her house. “Come on in.”
Submissive. The word—applied to him—made him pause, but only a second. And then he was right on her heels.
Inside, he caught a glimpse of her living room that seemed all sunlight and windows. She stopped in the foyer to remove her boots and went barefoot up the stairs.
After doing the same, he followed her. Three steps up, he paused to adjust himself. His jeans felt as if they were shrinking around his cock. Wasn’t it nice that he didn’t have to wonder how she’d react to a man’s hard-on? He’d never met any woman so straightforward about sex.
“You’re thinking too much, Benjamin.” Halfway up, she stripped off her shirt and tossed it down.
He caught the garment before it landed on his head—barely. His gaze had been occupied with the sight of her bare back. How her hips started to widen before being covered by her jeans. How her skin was so smooth and golden.
He took the steps three at a time and followed her into the bedroom. “Ma’am, I’d be delighted to serve, to help you”—strip naked—“with disrobing.”
“Aren’t you the generous one?” A dimple flashed in her right cheek, always the first one to show.
He intended to see both dimples displayed before the hour was over.
“Yes, Ma’am. That’s me.” He stepped closer and ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the firm muscle beneath all that soft skin.
The slight tilt of her head told him to stop while he was ahead. She looked up at him, her eyes a clear blue-gray, like a sunlit mountain lake. “I think we’ll take turns disrobing, so neither of us misses out on the fun.” And she proceeded to yank off his Hard Rock T-shirt.
“Mmm.” Her husky voice held only approval as she ran her hands over his pectorals, ruffling his chest hair before tracing the narrow line down his belly to where it disappeared under his jeans.
And fuck, the sizzle from her touch continued all the way to his dick. His cock surged upward, trying to burst from its confines. His shirt might be off, but he was radiating so much heat that he’d probably scorch her exquisite skin.
Smiling, she pushed one strap of her bra over her shoulder and smiled at him. Giving him permission.
The universe was looking favorably on him today.
With one finger, he teased her other strap off, and his pulse skipped a beat when her bra lowered far enough that he could see the edges of her pink-brown nipples. He might get eyestrain if he didn’t get her uncovered soon.
“I thought you were beautiful in the Shadowlands,” he managed to say. “In full daylight, you’re even more gorgeous.”
Her eyes lit. “You know, I think of you as Z’s guard dog, not one of my boys, so when you say something like that, it’s surprising and very effective.” She gripped his upper arms and rose onto tiptoes to kiss him, a generous, sweet kiss with tongue. “Thank you.”
My fucking pleasure. She was near enough he could reach around her, unfasten her bra, and slide it off. Her breasts were high and full—a man’s finest fantasy, up close and touchable.
Touch he did, filling his palms. Her breasts were probably about the same weight as navel oranges, and yet that was like comparing the satisfaction in playing tennis or fucking. Nothing in the world could feel as sweet as her breasts.
She made an approving sound as he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. When he squeezed slightly and then tugged lightly on the peaks, he felt her quiver.
He needed more.
But, with desperate control, he lowered his hands, forcing himself to let her take the next step. She could lead him wherever her heart desired.
Her eyebrows rose. “You keep surprising me.” To his delight, she undid his jeans and released him.
As the cool air from an open window hit his overheated cock, he drew in a steadying breath.
“Yes, you’re just as magnificent as I remembered,” she murmured.
The sheer satisfaction at hearing that was almost as fantastic as the way her hands gripped him, as the way she varied her hold from a firm stroke at the base to a feather-light grazing of the head.
She shoved his jeans down until they tangled at his ankles. “Part your legs as far as you can.”
Setting a hand on her shoulder for balance, he moved his feet apart.
Her free hand cupped his balls, pulling and teasing, while her other hand played with his dick. With uncanny skill, she drove him up until he was too damn close to coming.
“Mistress.” The sound emerged despite his clenched jaw. “I’d rather—” fuck you.
Her gaze was a laser beam of incandescent blue light. “I’d rather too, for that matter. And it is your turn for the disrobing, isn’t it?” She stepped back. “On your knees, please.”
He went down on one knee, leaning forward to kiss her bare stomach. Kneeling didn’t bother him—not if he got to remove her clothes. Hell, he’d even use his teeth if that were what she wanted. He wouldn’t have minded one fucking bit. With careful fingers, he unbuttoned her jeans.
Setting a hand on his shoulder, she lifted her foot.
Her skin was distractingly smooth as he pushed the material off her calves and feet. His gaze ran up. Curvy calves, long sweet thighs that led to… Yeah, he was going to die. Last time he’d been here, he’d thought…maybe…that she shaved. Now he knew.
Her pussy was completely bare of hair. Damn, that was sexy.
She made a sound and he realized his fingers had tightened around her ankles. He managed to loosen them for a second, but with one inhalation, he was lost. First, the scent of something spicy—like cinnamon and cloves, then a lightly delicate feminine musk.
Her hand smacked the top of his head, breaking the spell. Painfully.
He released her, seeing the marks of his hands on her ankles.
“Benjamin, you’re not just back from the wars—and I doubt this is the first time you’ve seen a woman.”
He cleared his throat. “Not a woman like you, Ma’am.” There’d never been a woman like her in his entire, fairly exhaustive experience. He stayed where he was and dared to run his hand up and down her legs, wanting nothing more than to bury his face between her thighs. “Ma’am. May I—”
Her eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t think so.” One finger, the elegant nail with a white flower on pink polish, pointed to the bed. “Put yourself there. On your back, so I can sample the wares at my pleasure.”
He wasn’t sure whether to protest, to grab her, or to cheer. Sampling meant she’d touch. He was down with that. And even if he hadn’t been, the oddest satisfaction came from obeying her orders. Maybe he could overpower her physically, but in matters of the spirit, she had a will that might be stronger than his own. “Yes’m.”
Now that was one of the finest sights she’d
ever seen, Anne thought as Ben ducked under the canopy and stretched out on her king-sized bed. The ultimate in darkly tanned masculinity provided a startling contrast to her feminine floral bedspread. His shoulders were wide and strong, his chest hugely muscled, his stomach ridged. His cock sprang up, thick and long, from a nest of light brown curls. His thighs showed the long divide between the muscles.
She sauntered over, his gaze on her like a scorching sun. He made her feel beautiful, which was always nice. Nicer than normal because she…respected him and valued his opinion.
With a shake of her head to dislodge stray thoughts, she leaned over the bed. “And what have we here? This seems to be quite the odd protuberance.” She grasped his cock with a firm hand and twisted just enough to lift his head off the pillow with a gasp. The shaft palpably thickened.
His eyes burned golden.
“You have tiger’s eyes.” They reminded her of one of her favorite bracelets. “Are you going to lie there and take what I do to you?” she asked softly.
The pulse of desire and dominance rippled through her, heightening her senses. She could taste his lust, hear his need, not only for sex, but also for her control. The challenge of trying to obey her added to his arousal.
“I’m all yours, Mistress.” His answer held determination—and his anticipation was like a dollop of whipped cream in her chocolate.
He’d experienced some of what she might do, and he wanted more.
She considered blindfolding him, but she really did appreciate the way he focused on her. Her eyes, her mouth, her muscles. Every jiggle of her breasts was noted.
Her nipples ached with anticipation.
Why not? She straddled him with a quick movement, avoiding his cock, and settling her ass on his stomach. Bending, she took his lips. Firm and enthusiastic. She controlled the kiss, taking what she wanted, and when she sat back, he let out a faint groan. Until she positioned herself to give him a nipple.
He’d been good until then, but now one hand gripped her ass, the other behind her back, pulling her down so he could suckle and lick vigorously. His mouth was hot, his lips soft, his tongue like a lash. Desire spiraled up her center until he could undoubtedly feel her dampness on his belly.
Servicing the Target Page 7