Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(43)
“There should be a scale of relationship gradients.” When Ben paused for a red light, Anne’s gaze landed on a gun shop. “Something to show how deadly love is.” She considered. “A BB-gun denotes a casual first date. A .22 revolver for the first night of sex. A .38 semi-automatic for reaching the non-serious, exclusive stage.”
“All right.” He was smiling as he turned the corner. “An M24 SWS ‘sniper weapon’ for locking on to someone—getting engaged. And maybe a Carl Gustav for doing the deed—getting married.”
She grinned, remembering that the Carl Gustav was an antitank weapon. “There’s a cynical man. So what rating did your past flames get?”
“One girlfriend would have been a….38. The other a .44 magnum.”
One step above exclusive, meaning he’d been serious about the woman. “I see.”
He hesitated and asked, “What was Joey?”
As her spine stiffened, she bit back her first response—none of your business. But, perhaps it was. “I’d say a .38, because I don’t go over a .38.”
The tiny muscles beside his eyes tensed as if absorbing a blow. “Got it.”
“I don’t have typical man/woman relationships, Ben. You could call that a hard limit with me. I have slaves. I care for them—love them even—but never in a man-woman-love kind of way.”
He nodded.
Time to change the subject. Past time. “You were good with Paige today.” She turned to give Bronx a pat. “And so were you, baby.”
Bronx responded with a delighted thumping of the tail and a sneaky finger lick.
“I’ve had practice with Marcus’s crew,” Ben said. “When he takes his martial arts teens out, he asks for volunteers to herd the pack.”
“Ah. Well, you gave Paige something to think about.” Thoughtlessly, she laid her hand on his thigh. The way his muscles went taut under her touch shifted the dynamic between them to something more sexual.
She was afraid that their dating score was rising rapidly from a nice .22 to something with more impact. What was she going to do about this?
“What do you mean?” he asked, derailing her thoughts.
“Her parents taught her that women are passive. That a man would never tolerate an assertive woman.” She grinned. “Definitely not an aggressive one.”
“Fucking stupid.”
“Exactly. But now Paige has seen a woman fight back and heard a confident man say he enjoyed the show—and still likes said woman.”
“I did like the show,” he said.
“I noticed.”
He snorted. “You did, huh?”
Paige hadn’t noticed, but Anne had spotted the very large bulge in Ben’s jeans. He deserved to be rewarded for such a lovely reaction, but it wouldn’t be—
He put his hand over hers and slid it up to his groin. He was still semi-hard. “I get your limit, Ma’am. But lots of people have limits and still manage to have sex. Let’s have sex.”
Her body stilled at the surge of desire. And yet…“I don’t want you to be hurt, Ben.”
He glanced at her, his tawny tiger’s eyes intent. “Anne, do you like it when people restrict your life because they’re afraid you’ll get hurt?”
His words were a light stinging to the face, waking her up.
His smile appeared…until she cupped his cock. “Well, Benjamin, we wouldn’t want to worry about you getting hurt, now would we? Want to meet at my place?”
Ben knew for a fact that he was going to have a f*cking heart attack—f*cking soon—and Mistress Anne would be stuck explaining why she had a naked dead man sprawled on his back in her bed.
Why there were finger dents in her headboard.
She nipped his cock.
“Jesus!” His head rose off the bed, and he glared at her.
The Mistress raised an eyebrow. “I’d suggest you stop thinking, Benjamin. Or else.” Her fingers cupped one of his balls, then the other in a warm threat. When she squeezed, sweat broke out on his body.
As her fingernail scraped the sensitive spot just in front of his *, lights danced in his vision.
And when she released his junk, the blood flowed straight to his dick, which was already straining against the leather strands wrapped around it.
His head fell back on the pillow as every muscle in his body turned rigid.
He needed to come. So. Fucking. Bad.
When she smiled at him—hell, that was almost enough to get him off. She was magnificent, all naked, her skin a golden tan. High, full breasts with tight nipples. Heavy-lidded eyes. Mouth swollen from his kisses. She looked like one of those female sex demons—a succubus—the ones no man could resist.
As she bent closer, her hair spilled over his groin in silky sweetness and her sultry laugh stroked his skin with warmth. And then he felt…
Oh, Jesus, she wouldn’t…
She did.
Her tongue traced over the head of his cock. The wet heat circled the slit and licked over the leather. His erection managed to engorge even further. The laces grew painfully tight as she teased him. Nipped the helmet. Sucked lightly.
His body started to shake. His clenched hands cramped around the oak spindles. The groan that escaped him couldn’t have come from anything living.