Servicing the Target

by Cherise Sinclair

  Another nod. Jessica’s eyes brightened.

  “Since I don’t start work until later this evening, I can babysit the imp.” As if that would be a hardship. “We’ll rock and read in one of the second floor rooms.”

  “You’ll get bored,” Jessica protested.

  “I always have a book in my bag. Just give me the diaper bag, and you’ll have two baby-free hours.”

  “That’d be great,” Jessica said. Then her face clouded. “But he still won’t—”

  “Now this is what I think you should do… Consider it a win-win, since even if he doesn’t cooperate, you’ll get off.”

  * * * *

  “Jessica?” Zachary called quietly, not wanting to wake the baby—or his wife—if they were sleeping.

  He tossed his cell phone on a folder on the dining room table and went in search.

  The living room was empty.

  Zachary pushed open the door to the master bedroom and heard soft music. The curtains were drawn, and the only light came from the scented candles around the room.

  Jessica stood at the foot of the bed, wearing a black waist cincher with garters, dark fishnet stockings, heels…and nothing else.

  All the blood in his body surged into his cock.

  Her shining blonde hair, even longer than when he’d first met her, tumbled over her bare shoulders and down her back, begging for a man’s hand. His hand.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Oh. Hey.”

  Her waist flared into her beautifully full hips, setting her round, white ass on display. His fingers curved, already feeling the smooth skin against his palm. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “There’s a week yet to go.”

  She sniffed. “That’s according to the male doctor who doesn’t have any children. Because he doesn’t have any girl parts. My midwife, who I talked to today, has cleared me for sex since I’m no longer spotting.”

  “Indeed.” Anticipation revved Zachary’s pulse even as he kept his tone even. He had in his possession two differing medical opinions. Both sources—MD and midwife—were respected authorities. Much as he wanted his wife, he wouldn’t risk hurting her.

  She’d been hurt enough. His memories of her labor were far too clear, and, no matter how unreasonable, he felt as guilty as if he’d caused the appalling pain. Odd how he could watch a sadist work over a masochist without a worry, but to see his wife—his submissive—hurting so badly that she’d screamed had shaken him to the bone. He shook his head at the memory.

  “I see,” she snapped. “Well, no problem, Master. Since you won’t let me play with your cock, I found one of my own.”

  From the bed, she picked up a…dildo. And a vibrator.

  “Jessica.” His voice came out a growl.

  “Don’t worry; I checked,” she said. “When I called Fay, she said I could keep myself as happy as I wanted.” Holding his gaze, she flipped the vibrator on, held it against her clit, and…moaned.

  At his sudden rise of lust, the entire bedroom blurred out of existence for a second.

  Damned if he—

  His phone rang from the dining room.

  Jessica waved a hand at him. “Go. I don’t need you.”

  Even though he knew her words were based in her own anger, they still hurt. He hesitated, considered ignoring the phone call. He couldn’t. “I have a patient being admitted to the hospital, pet. I have to hand him off properly and give a report. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She snapped “fine” in a tone that meant it was anything but fine.

  His body shouted a protest as he left the room.

  It only took two minutes to give the admitting physician a rundown.

  Calling the obstetrician and pinning him down took more time. But, when Zachary told him that Jessica was no longer spotting and that the midwife had okayed intercourse, the doctor gave his go-ahead as well.

  “Excellent. Thank you.” As Zachary turned the phone off, he had to reach down and adjust his straining cock. It’d probably been a couple of decades since he’d gone for more than a week without sex. He missed touching and holding. Missed the way Jessica would yield under his hands. The way sex with her was an affirmation of joy. Of love.

  He glanced at the baby monitor as he entered the bedroom. No noise from there; Sophia must be asleep.

  And the only sound in the room was the vibrator humming away.

  His stubborn little wife hadn’t been bluffing. Eyes closed, she had her hands on her pussy as she lay on the bed with her legs spread. The dildo rested on her stomach. Her fingers were slick as she played with herself, applying the vibrator at intervals to make herself last.

  He watched for a minute. He’d never seen anything as purely seductive as his wife making love to herself. He’d loved her round body before she was pregnant. When she was pregnant. And now as well. If anything, his desire for her had only grown.

  “Jessica.”

  Her eyes popped open.

  “I called the doctor. He—”

  “He can go to hell.” Her face was turning the clear red of an infuriated blonde.

  “Kitten, the doctor said—”

  “I don’t give a damn. I don’t give a damn about anything you say either, you-you asshole Dom.” She picked up the dildo and threw it violently. At him.

  The toy stung his palm as he caught it.

  “Now shove it up your ass,” she hissed like the kitten he called her.

  As he walked over to the bed, he could feel her anger beating at him. And then it was washed away by her sense of loss…her feeling that she’d gone too far with her words and actions. That she’d destroyed what they had. That she’d lost him.

  Losing him would never happen.

  Her belief that mere words could break them apart showed his failure as a Dom. “That’s enough, kitten.”

  She sat up on the bed and glared at him.

  Her hair was loose and made a convenient leash when wrapped around his hand. He used it to tilt her head back so he could take her mouth and silence further insults.

  After a second of struggle, she…surrendered. So completely that he felt his chest squeeze with the sweet ache. Her lips were warm and soft and giving.

  Still gripping her hair, he lifted her hands, one by one, to suck on the fingers, taking in the tantalizing musky taste.

  As he kissed her again, her arms came around his neck, and he could feel her other emotions disappear under a growing urgency.

  The bullet vibrator still buzzed away beside her, he realized. And it would be a shame to waste available resources. So, before he did anything else, he’d remove the sexual frustration that had caused her emotional storm—and also take the opportunity to remind her that her orgasms came at his discretion.

  When he placed the vibrator in her palm, despair filled her eyes…until his hand covered hers and moved the toy to her pussy.

  When the vibrations struck her clit, her body tensed.

  Very nice. Taking his time, holding her in place by her hair, he kissed her, even as he controlled her hand, directing the bullet to one side of her clit, then the other.

  As she started to pant, her hips rose to meet the stimulus.

  “I love you, Jessica,” he murmured.

  “I love y—”

  He moved her hand to set the vibrator on the very top of her clit and…pressed down.

  Her neck arched. “Aaaaah.”

  Although he’d never forgotten how stunning she was when she came, each time still stopped his heart.

  As her pulse slowed, Jessica opened her eyes…and met Z’s gray ones.

  He’d released her hair. He wasn’t smiling. And he was studying her in a way that sent her pulse skyrocketing again.

  She swallowed. “What?”

  “What, indeed.” His voice was low. Ominous. Sorrowful. “As I recall, you threw a dildo at me.” His lips quirked. “You called me names without having the excuse of being in labor.”

  Still fully dressed, he sat
on the edge of the bed. “In addition, you tried to manipulate me into doing what you wanted, rather than what I thought was right.”

  Uh-oh. Anne had warned her about his probable reaction. “Very few men can resist seeing a woman taking pleasure into her own hands. The difference here is that, once Z is thinking, he’ll completely understand that you were topping from the bottom. You might not like what follows.”

  She might have been all right if she’d done what Anne had suggested. The trouble was, she’d gone further. Had snarked at him. Then lost her temper and yelled at him. And thrown a toy at him.

  Unable to meet his eyes, she dropped her gaze.

  She’d tried to push him into having sex—and she knew full well he didn’t want to. Might never want to again. Who would, after all? Tears filled her eyes. She was such a cow and—

  “What in the world are you thinking?” With a hand on her chest, he pushed her onto her back. When she fought to sit back up, he bracketed her wrists with his right hand and pinned her arms above her head.

  “Stop it!” She struggled. “Don’t. I don’t want to—”

  “Jessica. Stop.” The command in his deep, rich voice halted her completely. Cupping her chin in his hand, he ran his thumb over her wet cheek.

  Blinking back more tears, she stared up at him. Whatever was wrong with her? Throwing fits because she didn’t get her way? And blaming Z? He’d only been trying to protect her. Had deprived himself as well.

  And, as his submissive, she’d given the reins into his hands. This was hardly submitting to him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “As am I,” he said in a level voice. “First, you should know that I called the doctor—and he agreed that we could resume sexual relations at this point.”

  She closed her eyes for a second as humiliation swept through her. He’d tried to tell her, and she’d yelled and thrown things. Marvelously mature, girl.

  Without a doubt, he was annoyed.

  “Now that you can no longer pelt me with sex toys,” he said in a dry voice, “perhaps we can speak reasonably.”

  Uh-oh. She had a bad feeling about—

  “I can understand your anger. But, kitten,” his voice went gentle, “what made you cry?”

  “Nothing.”

  His brows drew together. Lying was a crash and burn offense in Master Z’s opinion.

  “I mean, I was just frustrated.”

  His gaze didn’t waver. He obviously didn’t believe her.

  This was intolerable. The tears started again as her defenses fell. “I-I know you don’t want me anymore, and I felt—”

  “What?” As he gazed down at her, unhappiness lined his face.

  Misery filled her. Now she’d made him feel bad, and he’d done nothing wrong. This was all her fault.

  “Kitten,” he said softly. “I don’t think there has been a moment since we met that I haven’t wanted you. I know you didn’t appreciate the way you looked carrying a baby, but I thought we’d gotten past that.”

  Oh God, why did she have to be so insecure? “You did; we did.” Because during those months of pregnancy, she’d seen herself in his eyes, seen how beautiful she was with his child growing within her. How much in awe he felt. “But, now…” She bit her lip, unable to continue.

  With his hand against her cheek, he tilted her face up. His warmth seeped into her; his control sapped her resistance. “Tell me.”

  “I’m not carrying a baby, and I’m huge and…and saggy and—”

  He shook his head ruefully, then took her hand and set it on his groin. On his very, very, very thick erection. “Does that feel as if I don’t want you?”

  Heat swept through her as she caressed him. She wanted him inside her, wanted—

  His gaze met hers and oh, boy, he was still in Master-space. “How long have you been worrying about this?” he asked, way too softly.

  She swallowed with difficulty. “Since…” Since the day she saw her stomach in the mirror after Sophia was born. “A while now.”

  “I. See.” Slowly, he lifted her hands and secured them above her head again. His strong fingers easily held both her wrists. “Did we have an agreement that you would tell me when you were feeling insecure?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “But you were pulling away.” Her anger flared back to life. “You weren’t even holding me at night.”

  “True. I wasn’t.” He actually chuckled. “Jessica, I’ve needed you so badly that I feared I’d take you in my sleep.”

  Z didn’t lie. Z never lied. A heady cocktail of warmth and relief seeped into her veins. He hadn’t been trying to move away from her.

  With a half-smile, he caressed her cheek. “All right. This gives us a place to start.”

  Start. Start didn’t sound good. “What do you mean?” Marrying a psychologist had been a really bad move. What had she been thinking?

  “We’ll keep talking about your worries. I daresay the long period without any intimacy made your fears worse than they might have been.”

  She could only nod.

  “However, I want a daily report from you for the next, say, month.”

  When she started to scowl, his eyes darkened and turned her willpower into mush. “But, I don’t like journaling.”

  “I know, pet. We’ll work something out. Perhaps a spreadsheet. Color-coordinated, with a rating system. How you feel about your body. How you think I see you. A scale of one-to-ten. With notes on the side.”

  Hmm. This is do-able. She could total the results and average them weekly and do a graph to track if…

  His eyes had lit with amusement.

  “You’re laughing at me.”

  “Actually, I’m in love with you,” he said softly. “And glad to have my Jessica back.”

  “Oh.” How much more could she love him?

  His kiss started gentle and turned forceful enough that she could see he really was holding himself back. And wasn’t that a rush? She pulled at his hands, wanting to touch him.

  He released her, but straightened out of her reach. Gripping her upper arms, he sat her up on the bed.

  She looked at him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

  Rather than answering, he opened his bedside stand and withdrew a…a mini-flogger with seven inch falls.

  Oh no. Sure, the tiny flogger looked all innocuous, but it didn’t feel so innocent on tender bits…like a pussy.

  “What’s that for? Am I being punished?” she protested.

  “Before everything can flow smoothly, we have some clearing away to do—think of it like a blockage in a riverbed.” He handed her the flogger and rolled his right sleeve up past his elbow before holding his arm toward her, forearm bared.

  “What are you doing?” She pulled back.

  “Since I’m not going to let you anywhere near my cock with a flogger, I want you to hit my arm. You will continue until you’ve given me a nice set of welts.”

  Her heart dropped right into her stomach, and not in a good way. “No.” No, no, no. “M-Master, I can’t.”

  “You can and will. Hopefully, next time, I’ll hear the words you aren’t saying. Or you will trust me enough to say them. I failed you as your Master,” he said gravely.

  “You didn’t,” she whispered.

  In answer, he tapped his forearm. “Now, please.”

  Her first attempt barely stroked his skin and earned her an unyielding look.

  Her second wasn’t much better.

  His lips curved slightly. “We’ll continue this all night, if need be, pet.”

  The sense of his strength wrapping around her made her eyes fill. “I love you, Master.”

  “I know, kitten.” He glanced at his arm and lifted his eyebrows.

  She hit him. At the cruel sound of the strands slapping skin, she cringed.

  “Harder.”

  So to get it over, she did three more as forcefully as she could.

  “More—just like that.”

  By the time she’d struck him another
three times, she was crying.

  “Go on.”

  Her eyes were blinded by tears, but nothing could shut out the slap of the strands against skin.

  Finally, finally, he caught her wrist and tugged the flogger from her hand. His strong arms enfolded her as he pulled her to his rock-hard chest.

  She turned into him, burying her face against his shoulder, crying so violently she almost couldn’t breathe. She’d hit him; hurt him.

  “All done. You did well, little one.” He was wrapped around her, his cheek on her head, rocking her gently. Making her world right again.

  Never, never make me do that again. And yet, even as she soaked his shirt with her tears, she realized her anger at how he’d listened to the doctor instead of her had dissolved.

  Slowly, her crying eased into shuddering breaths.

  He kissed the top of her head and straightened. But when he finger combed her hair out of her wet face, she saw the horrible red welts running up his forearm and started to cry again.

  “Poor pet.” He pulled her back into his arms. After a minute, she noticed he was laughing…and fondling her breast.

  She pushed him back. “Z!”

  An eyebrow rose—unaccompanied by a smile.

  She sputtered. “I mean, “Master, you-you—”

  “That does sound nice. I think I’ll forego gagging you, so you may beg me freely.”

  “Beg? For what?”

  “For mercy. It’s your turn to be punished, kitten.”

  Oh God, he was fully in Dom-space. Under his gray gaze, a dark desire seeped into her blood, and her nipples spiked into throbbing peaks.

  His hands were merciless as he flattened her on her back and secured her wrists to the headboard. He positioned a cushion under her hips and bound her knees widely apart, using the mid-bed straps. Close to the end of the bed, her pussy was tilted up…and open. Air touched her folds, emphasizing how damp she was.

  As if to point that out, he bent and circled a finger around her entrance and over her clit, which still hummed from her orgasm.

  “Nice and aroused. Unfortunately, being wet will make your punishment worse, I’m afraid,” he said in a serious tone.

  “Punishment—there?” Using that damn flogger? “You wouldn’t.”