Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(23)

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 f*cking 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 f*cking. 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—” f*ck 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 f*cking 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 * 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.