Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(90)

“Brace yourself, Mistress. I’m so f*cking going to take you.”

“Be—”

He slammed into her.

She was so swollen that his penetration shocked her with the force of a blow. He felt huge, filling her to the point of pain—and yet his second violent thrust pitched her right over into an unstoppable, shocking orgasm. Her head swam as the blinding release shuddered up her center.

“Fuck, woman, yes.” His low, harsh voice rumbled against her like a landslide. Pressed deep within her, he palmed her breasts and pulled on her nipples, drawing out the waves impossibly.

God. Her fingers curled around the lounge frame. Her arms gave out, dropping her head to the cushions as her whole body sang with delight.

“Anne.” At the strained sound, she realized he’d held himself in check. Worrying about her.

From somewhere, she managed one tiny breath. “Take me, Benjamin. Hard.”

“Thank f*cking Christ.” His hands seized her hips as he pulled out fast, and then he hauled her back onto his cock. Growling his pleasure, he controlled her, pushing her off his shaft and yanking her on in a rhythmic impalement. Again and again. The slapping sounds of flesh on flesh echoed in the room along with the wet noises and his grunts of enjoyment.

With each breath, she drew in the scents of sex, his clean, earthy aftershave, and tantalizing musk.

His fingers gripped her hips fiercely enough to bruise, adding the kind of erotic pain she’d given him, like a high note in the song that was sex.

And then he drove painfully deep, holding there as his thick shaft pulsed. His guttural groan was born in the depths of the earth.

God, she loved him.

He stayed still a moment, frozen in place, as the tides of pleasure flowed between them.

With a low sigh, he curved his arms around her and rolled them onto their sides, her back to his chest. Her head rested on his arm and his other hand settled over her breast. Still intimately deep inside her, he shaped himself as closely to her as he could.

He kissed her hair, rumbling something unintelligible, and then simply held her as if she was the most precious thing he had.

Her hand covered his, holding him to her, feeling his warmth all along her back, feeling the strength in his arms.

No one had ever held her like this.

With tears burning her eyes, she lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. I love you, love you, love you so, so much.

The rush of emotion was overwhelming.

Terrifying. Where were they going with this? She breathed out slowly. This was the time she was supposed to talk with him and find out what was bothering him. To learn how to make things better for him.

He curved his hand under her cheek; his thumb stroked her lips.

How did women handle such emotions? A tremor shook her as her happiness mingled with the fear of losing him.

Already, he was so inextricably connected to her that they were practically living together. She’d never allowed her slaves to become such a daily part of her life. If nothing else, she’d withdrawn from them before and during her period, because, Lord knew, she turned into a bit of a grump. Although Ben hadn’t ever compl—

Between one breath and the next, her head got light. A roaring in her ears drowned out the music.

Her period.

How long since she had a period? Her heart started to thud painfully.

For sure, she’d menstruated on St. Patrick’s Day in March. Harrison had thrown a party, but she’d been flowing so heavily she’d foregone wearing her favorite white slacks.

Had she had one since? Being on birth control pills, she was always on time. She visualized the packet…she was days into the blank pills. Days late. Dismay seized her.

No…no. The lateness must be due to stress. Or something. Anything.

She’d made a sound for Ben’s arms tightened. “Anne? Was I too rough?”

Rough? She tried a laugh and succeeded. He hadn’t been too forceful, but perhaps too potent? Oh God. “No. No, you were amazing. Wonderful.” She rubbed her cheek on his palm, feeling the structure of her life start to shred.

Pushing her worries away was similar to rolling a boulder uphill, but she managed. She’d figure out what was…going on…later. Ben had been amazing. And she’d taken him pretty deep during the flogging. He needed her full attention and some pampering.

Her own concerns would have to wait.




As Anne led the way out of the private rooms upstairs, Ben’s back burned from the flogger. His * was tender, although the plug was gone. He shook his head. He’d hated having to admit that the anal jobbie had ignited every f*cking nerve he had.

The good Mistress had known exactly what it would do.

He’d come so violently, it was a wonder his head hadn’t blown off.

Anne stopped at the head of the spiral stairs and tucked an arm around his waist. “Are you all right, my tiger?” Her heavy-lidded eyes assessed him, tallying his resources in the way he’d done with his team before taking them into enemy territory.

Although she was unusually quiet, her smile showed her pleasure in him. She’d enjoyed getting him off and didn’t hesitate to let him know.

“I’m more than good.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair was still damp from her shower—which she’d needed. She’d come as hard as he had, another thing he loved about her. No pretenses, no bullshit. She liked sex and wasn’t afraid to show it.