HostileTakeover

by Joey W. Hill

  Right in the middle of that peak, he raised up, taking his mouth away, but before she could wrap her mind around the sudden, shocking loss, he was there instead, sliding his full, turgid length into her slick pussy, so slick that even with his size, he worked in with barely a pause, her tissues still spasming around him. He was stroking inside her almost immediately, so the aborted climax wasn’t aborted at all. It was like a hurricane that did a somersault and came screaming back to the same center eye again.

  “Be still, baby. Very, very still.”

  He slowed down, watched her frantic face as she fought not to move. She wanted to lift her hips, force him to continue the same pace or thrust. Instead, she made tiny pleas, caught in a string of spasms that drew out even further while he did those slow, dragging strokes. It became even more intense, so all her muscles locked, her lips stretched back from her teeth in a feral snarl.

  Then he came to a full stop, lodged deep inside her. Marcie quaked, and when he framed her face with his hands, bringing his body down full on her, she bit his palm in ferocious need.

  “Fierce kitten,” he growled. “Touch me now. Move all you want.”

  She wanted to buck like a rodeo bronc spurred from confinement, but even through that roaring need, she wanted something else. She slid her arms around his shoulders, locked her legs over his hips like a drowning swimmer. “Can you take off the jeans without moving?” She pressed the gasp to his ear. “Will you let me feel you against me, nothing between us?”

  It occurred to him then, to both of them. His muscles tensed, and he tried to pull out, but she held on tight. While he could overpower her, she made a noise of such vehement protest he paused.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m protected from pregnancy. I have been for some time. I know you don’t take risks. I know you’re clean. You’re my first…without wearing anything. Please don’t leave me.”

  It startled him to the core that he’d forgotten to don protection, she could see it. If he withdrew from her now, unsettled by that realization, she wouldn’t survive it. She wasn’t near as confident as she seemed. She just loved him enough to bluff him into believing she could handle anything, no matter how rough or cruel he was.

  But there was no cruelty now, only earth-shattering tenderness as he cupped her face anew, brushed her lips, gave her a nod. A slight smile touched his mouth, a trace of unexpected humor in his eyes. “If you can get your heel into the back of my jeans, you can push them to my knees. We can probably work them off from there.”

  His jeans were already mostly off his gorgeous ass, and she took full advantage of the sensory input through the soles of her feet as she curved one over his buttock, hooked her toes into the seat and worked the denim down to his thighs, maneuvering her other foot to get them to his knees. He did manage to get them off, but unfortunately it pulled him out of her as he did it, the tip of his cock leaving a delicious wet trail down her inner thigh. But her hands were between them in an instant, gripping him.

  “Please, let me.”

  His jaw flexed as she guided him back to her empty pussy. She bit her lip, staring up at him so he saw every change in her expression as she pulled him deep inside her.

  “I love how big you are,” she whispered. “How it hurts and feels good at the same time.”

  Like love itself. From the shadows in his face, she could tell this was new ground for him. It was for her as well. So she buried her face in his neck then, taking a sharp nip of his neck, winding her arms and legs around him again.

  “Please, Master. Fuck me. Use me for your pleasure.” All yours. She repeated that in her mind, and then her mind was completely lost as he began to move.

  He started with those slow thrusts forward and deep, dragging withdrawals that just devastated her, physically and emotionally. She loved having him on top of her, pinning her down, joined so closely. It made tears come to her eyes, the perfection of it all. As he started to pick up in speed and force, she held on, willing to go on the ride with him, now to eternity.

  Her climax rekindled, the delay only concentrating it. His cock bruised, stretched and demanded more and more of her, and she met the challenge, clamping down on him, rippling her muscles along his length, holding his body tighter with the strength of her own. He would outlast her, because he was just that bloody strong, but as her strength flagged, he cinched his arm low on her waist, the other around her back, and he took over, driving into her so her body arched up like a doll’s, helpless to his power as he took her to the edge he desired.

  Everything caught fire, so fast it took her by surprise, but then the overwhelming storm of it drove away everything. She’d never had a climax like it, her heart, mind and soul fully pulled into the moment so she was almost sure the universe had stopped moving on this one fixed point. She was biting his shoulder, her fingers raking his back, finding blood. She exulted in his savage grunts as he released, spilling himself into her. The first time Ben O’Callahan had given his seed to a woman rather than to a condom.

  She was sure of it.

  It pushed her even higher, and he rode her to the finish, pulling every aftershock out of her until she was begging for mercy, a mercy she knew he would deny her, thank God.

  Her Master was ruthless, demanding, all hers. At least for this one, perfect moment.

  I went to a dance for the new freshmen tonight. Most of it was the usual loud techno-pop stuff, but then somebody played that Allison Krauss version of “When You Say Nothing At All”. It made me think of you. I danced with a few guys, but mostly I just danced with part of a big group. It was nice, even though this one girl said I looked so serious, like I was studying for a test, instead of dancing. It occurred to me then that I’m used to you being the one who reminds me how to smile and laugh, and now I’ll have to do that all on my own. I guess that’s good. If I learn to do it on my own, I can remind you to smile and laugh when you get old and crotchety. Oh, forgot…you’re already old and crotchety.

  Letter from Marcie

  Chapter Ten

  Dawn came. Even though it was beautiful, the sunlight on her face waking her in a bedroom that smelled like him and the musky scent of their sex, she knew from the first second something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t just that he was absent. Her clothes had been laid out on a chair, and it looked like someone had ironed them. Ben probably had a bevy of domestic servants chained in his basement. She wouldn’t put it past him.

  She held her breath, listening, then relaxed as she heard movement on the lower level. If he’d bailed on her, gone on in to work, he would have at least left her a note and some coffee brewing. He might be an emotionally repressed bastard about certain things, but common courtesy wasn’t one of them.

  Pushing herself up, she saw he had left her a note, as well as a trio of Advil and a glass of water. A tiny wildflower lay on the note. Take the Advil, drink the water, and do another soak in a hot shower. Get dressed for work. Breakfast will be waiting downstairs.

  He’d said they’d spend the day together, preparing to go to Progeny tonight. He’d changed his mind. Or maybe something had come up. It was a weekday, after all, and K&A sometimes needed their lawyer even on a planned day off. Yeah right. She picked up the wildflower, let it tickle her chin. It was a nice touch, but it still felt impersonal, removed. The type of thing a hotel might do. She’d figured out how he dealt with the women in his life, the easy charm that was devastating to their senses but didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Cass said he’d worked up some awesome, elaborate dishes for Savannah during her pregnancy, when she didn’t feel like eating anything else. For Nate’s most recent birthday, he’d arranged a paintball party a general would have admired for troop mobilization and attack strategy. When he extended true affection, love, he went all out with it. In the right mood, Ben was more…rough, natural.

  He’d have crushed flowers over her sleeping form, covered her in petals. Twined the stems around her wrists, a gentle bondage. But this…
this was distance. Her stomach tightened into a cold ball. Surely after everything they’d shared last night, he wouldn’t…

  Yes, he would. Exactly because of what they’d shared last night.

  She would take the shower, don the clothes because he’d told her to do it. It was her Master’s order and she wanted to be compliant. But if he wasn’t pulling back, work or no work, he would have wanted her to come down completely naked, still smelling of his scent. He would have had her kneel at his feet, fed her bits of breakfast from his fingertips as he read the morning stock reports, glancing at the flat-screen for live business news. She could live on that kind of detached connection like a drug.

  Last night…there were no words for it. Until the reality, she hadn’t known exactly what it was she craved, what she could take. Two walls of his shower were mirrored, and even with the steam, they showed her his marks.

  She had bruises on the back of her legs from the slapper that had felt like a doubled-over fire extinguisher hose, weighted down inside to make the thud that much more significant. There was stippling on her ass cheeks from the rattan cane. When he went after her with his favorite tool, a flexible paddle, the burning and stinging sensations had come so close together she couldn’t be still. At one point he’d laid his upper body over her back, pinning her down as she squealed from the pain.

  She loved those marks, loved seeing them. She only hoped they weren’t the only things that would be around for the next couple days. Suppressing a sigh, she got out, dried off and picked up the bag that Cass had left. She wasn’t going to be fatalistic. She knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it. Ben wanted her to think she was imagining things she craved and he didn’t, but she had to believe she knew what she knew, or her courage would falter.

  The convoluted nature of the thought gave her lips a wry twist. Opening the overnight bag, she saw the folded note, recognized Cass’ handwriting.

  Jon said to remind you of this: To thine own self be true. This one’s from me: Be careful and know that I love you. I’m here.

  It made tears prick her eyelids, but she pushed them back. She was going to be less weepy today, no matter that Ben had torn open every shield she had last night. All but the one guarding her determination to have him as her permanent Master.

  Fortified somewhat, she tucked that note inside her bra and went down the stairs. Sunshine was bathing the breakfast nook. Ben was wearing fresh work clothes, charcoal slacks and an open white shirt, green and black tie hanging off the back of the chair. He was barefoot, his shoes polished and waiting by the counter island with a folded pair of socks. He was going to work. He wasn’t spending the day with her, at least not the way he’d said. Which meant he was likely backing out of taking her to Progeny.

  She firmed her jaw, came into the kitchen. She’d stayed barefoot as well, but sat her heels down with a quiet click next to his shoes. He glanced up, though she expected he’d known the minute her feet crossed the upper landing. “Good morning. Have a seat and I’ll bring you your breakfast.”

  “I don’t mind getting it.” She had to clear her throat, since the hoarseness from last night remained. He gave her a look.

  “Sit.” His tone was congenial, but firm, so she sat. She would have moved toward him, tried for a kiss, a caress, but he’d already moved away, gesturing to her chair with detached courtesy.

  That cold ball in her stomach was getting worse. Removing a plate from the oven, he brought her an omelet so fluffy it was a couple inches thick. She could smell the mixture of appetizing cheeses, and it was scattered with half spheres of fresh garden cherry tomatoes. A long time ago, he’d told her the key to good cooking wasn’t fancy combinations and syrup drizzled artfully on the plate, but fresh ingredients.

  “This looks marvelous. Like the last meal for a death-row inmate.” She shifted her gaze to his face, kept her voice even. “What is this, Ben?”

  “Eat your breakfast, then we’ll talk.”

  She pushed the plate away. “No. If you were standing on the other side of the Grand Canyon, you’d be closer to me than you are now.”

  “You’re being melodramatic.” He crossed his arms, leaned against the counter, his expression tight. There was a warning simmering in those green eyes, but she didn’t really care.

  “I don’t think so. I’m talking in a calm, reasonable tone, just like you are.” The edge in her voice earned her a narrow glance, but she continued. “I’m not capable of enjoying a breakfast this good if there’s a ton of bricks already in my digestive tract.”

  “I’ll pack it up for you then. Max will take you to work. Dana had a full schedule at the church and he was in the neighborhood. You can pick up the things you left in my office. I’ve had you reassigned to K&A’s research department on the fifth floor. Given your career specialty, you’ll learn more there. You’re an exceptional investigator, Marcie. You shouldn’t be wasting your time as my paralegal.”

  Things were replaying in her head. Everything that had happened last night. The times she’d cried and he’d wiped those tears away. The screaming orgasms. The way he’d completely taken her over, broken her open.

  “Is this the way you do it? Give a woman the experience of her life, and then it’s over?”

  “You wanted to know more about serving a Master. Last night, I gave you what I intended to give you at Progeny, so that’s no longer necessary. Lesson over. At least with me. There are some Doms I’ll recommend who can mentor you at the club until you find someone willing to pair up with you according to your desires.”

  “You agreed to mentor me.” She would keep her voice level, not accusatory. She would not stamp her feet or cry. She was going to do this as an adult, make him fucking admit he was the one acting immature.

  He met her gaze with implacable eyes. His words remained cool, reasonable. Which was why she knew it was all bullshit. But he wasn’t showing any cracks in the façade, anything she could use to break past that wall he’d built against her this morning. It was like he’d reinforced it with fucking concrete while she slept.

  “You came to me for guidance, and I’ve given you that. If you’ve done your research, you know the protocol. When a Master or sub says it’s over, it’s over. You respect the boundaries and the consent.”

  He moved then, came to sit at the table with her. He didn’t smile, didn’t stab her in the chest with a gesture that patently dismissive of her feelings, but he did put his hand over hers. Now she saw his expression soften, become kind. “You were incredible last night. I couldn’t have asked for a better submissive, so know that much. You just need to move on and look elsewhere. I have no problem helping you with that. You’ve told me you’re not a child. I believe you, so I expect you to respect my decision like a reasonable adult. We’ve always been friends. I’m still your friend.”

  The Doms he had in mind were probably about her age, competent enough, but no one who would be a challenge, who could even touch what he’d been able to do to her. He might not acknowledge it consciously, but it would be deliberate. He wouldn’t want anything that could compete with him. He refused to accept her, but he’d control the replacement candidate pool. If she could have bristled under his touch like a porcupine, she would have.

  Rising, he picked up her plate. It made him lean over her, and the scent and strength of him, so close, was almost overwhelming. While he put her breakfast in a container as promised, she sat there numbly. When he disappeared briefly up the stairs, she stared out the window at a fence, a bird bath. An oak tree with a decorative lizard sculpture attached to it. He reappeared with her overnight bag. “I have a flight out this morning for an afternoon meeting in Houston. I’ll touch base with you when I get back and we’ll talk out the details. I told Research you’re doing some freelance for Pickard, so they know you might need to be on a part-time schedule with them on some days.”

  How considerate of him. He had an appointment in Houston today; tonight, instead of going to Progeny with him, she’d have an
appointment with a Dumpster, her latest strategy to uncover dirt about the company being sued by Pickard’s client for insurance fraud. It was a fitting change of schedule, seeing as she was being kicked out like garbage.

  Ben had his hand on her elbow to bring her to her feet. With smooth efficiency, he moved them toward the door. Probably a scenario he’d enacted with countless women before her. Except she wasn’t them. He probably strolled to the door with them, rather than ushering them out like his ass was on fire. They’d been casual lays, after all, everyone reasonable adults about it. Unlike her.

  “Tell Max if you need to stop anywhere before you get to the office. Take more Advil through the day if you need it, and another long soak in Cass and Lucas’ hot tub tonight. I’ve put some more of that balm in your overnight bag for the sore areas.” He brushed his lips over her cheek—her cheek—and opened the door, propelling her into the alcove. “Okay?”

  “Mr. Calm and Reasonable?” She pivoted on her bare foot, looked up at him. “My shoes are still inside. If you throw them out onto the sidewalk, I might chase after them like a dog after a ball, giving you a chance to slam the door. But I’d rather not get them scratched.”

  He started, glancing down at her feet, her painted toes. As he stared at them a long moment, she could see him sorting through things. He didn’t miss details. Not unless something had unsettled him. A casual, reasonable bed partner didn’t unsettle him. She’d have let her lips curl in a satisfied smile if it wouldn’t feel like a knife slash across her tight face.

  He lifted his gaze to her. He at least had the decency to give her a wry quirk of his lips. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being an ass. This isn’t personal, Marcie.”

  “This is so incredibly personal you can’t get rid of me fast enough. If I was one of your easy ass fucks, you’d be ordering me to go down on you underneath the breakfast table while you ate your fluffy, pretty omelet.” Ignoring the fact that as her voice rose, the squeaks and breaks of her abraded vocal cords got worse, she stepped back into him, locked her hands in his shirt front. “You made love to me last night. You let me inside you.”