Love and Let Die (Masters and Mercenaries #5)(91)

She pulled at her shirt, fumbling a little as she tossed it away. He hadn’t even gotten her clothes from her place. He’d forced her to wear what she’d worn yesterday. He wasn’t taking care of her the way he should. He had to shove his anger down and take care of her because she belonged to him and he was starting to think that he couldn’t change that. He was fooling himself if he thought he could f*ck her out of his soul, but right now he meant to try.

While she worked on her clothes, he walked to the small closet at the back of his office. He kept extras there. Extra guns. Extra ammo. Bulletproof vest. The tiniest bit of C-4. And an extra kit complete with lube and a still-packaged anal plug.

Just the basics. What every man needed to survive the apocalypse. Grace had been horrified, but Ian liked to be prepared.

He pulled out the kit and laid it on the coffee table in the sitting portion of his office. He wasn’t sure why he needed a f*cking sitting room, but the couch had come in handy when he needed a nap. It also looked to be just the right height for what he wanted to do.

He glanced over and Charlie was naked, her gorgeous body flush with desire. Her eyes had already taken on the sleepy look he associated with her subspace. She subbed so fast, sometimes even without a single slap of his hand. Sometimes all she needed was a deepening of his voice as though the minute he opened the door, she fled inside and tried to lock herself away from the rest of the world.

“Is that how you start a session?” He wouldn’t call it what it was. It was lovemaking. It was need. It was the very air he breathed.

She dropped to her knees, her head falling forward, strawberry hair caressing her breasts and shoulders like a canopy concealing her secrets. He loved her hair. It didn’t matter what color it was as long as there was a lot of it. As long as he woke up covered in the stuff, a web he’d been caught in and didn’t want to get out of.

Her hands were placed on her thighs, palms up as he’d taught her. She didn’t make him ask twice about the placement of her knees. They were wide open, her * on display and he could already tell his sub was getting hot. Her * was a pearly pink, her nipples tight.

She was waiting for him. Calm and patient. Trusting.

Fuck. He couldn’t do what he wanted to do. He was too f*cking big. He would hurt her. He’d never thought he would rue his big cock, but the day was here. A tightness formed in his chest. “Get dressed, Charlotte. I have to get you some clothes before we leave here.”

His cock was screaming at him, promising him it would be very good and patient if he would only give it a chance at f*cking that sweet little *.

His cock was shit out of luck.

Charlie’s head came up, the sleepy look vanishing and in its place a near panic. “What did I do wrong?”

He held on to his temper. He wanted to roar and scream and f*ck her anyway, but she was his. His. He couldn’t hurt her any more than he already had. Revenge had sucked when it came to Charlie. His words came out on a shaky breath as he tried to calm his cock. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I never take a lover without preparing her first. I could hurt you. You remember when we were married, I was training you then. That’s why I made you wear the plug every day.”

She flushed again. “Ian, what I am about to tell you might sound weird and creepy at first, but I want you to remember that you gave me orders and even though you thought I was dead, I knew I was married and had a Master and I wanted to be an obedient sub.”

What the hell was she trying to say? “You’re rarely obedient, Charlie. I suppose I should have written it into a contract that you weren’t allowed to fake your own death or start up a criminal enterprise that would have three countries after your head.”

“Sometimes I just need guidelines, Master.” Her eyes came up, wide and innocent. God, he loved watching those eyes widen when he worked his cock in. It was one more thing he hadn’t liked about f*cking her in the club. He wanted to be face to face. He wanted to watch her up close, see every expression as he took her.

“Your guidelines are to go and get ready. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us.” At least twenty-four hours where his cock would be in hell.

“But I followed your instructions,” she said quickly.

He stared at her, trying to understand. And yes, he thought it was weird. And kind of hot if he was right about what she was saying. “You plugged yourself?”

She flushed, though now he could have sworn there was embarrassment in there. Her eyes found the floor. “Yes. Not every day, but at least once a week. Usually more. You told me to. I found comfort in following your directions. I know the vanilla world would think it perverse, but I pretended it was you.”

She was completely and utterly f*ck-all crazy. She’d plugged herself for five years? It was ridiculous. His cock was jumping in his jeans again.

“Back in position and stay there.” He walked out of his office and down the hall, not giving a shit that he was carrying an extra-large butt plug and a container of toy cleaner in his hands. The world was falling apart around him, but it didn’t matter because he had a toy to clean. All that mattered was getting ready because one way or another, he was going to find out if she was lying.

He stalked into the bathroom, his brain buzzing. She could be lying again. It could be her way of covering up the fact that she’d had a bunch of men in every way.

Or she could be telling the truth and she was a faithful wife for years, finding comfort in even the oddest of his rituals. His heart clenched a little at the thought of her trying to plug herself for the first time. She would have felt awkward and alone. It was a game between lovers, but she’d been on the run and by herself. Had she done it in the dark? The way he yanked his own dick and thought about her?