Page 74 of Over the Line

“About time,” he fired back pointedly.

With a tiny sigh, she accepted the glass and took a sip. “Oh my God, it’s wonderful. Tart, as you say, but sweet at the same time. Best lemonade I’ve ever had.”

“I keep trying to convince you to trust me with your well-being, Sydney.”

“As you know, Sir, that’s something I have little interest in giving. Nothing personal.” Though the admission made her a little uncomfortable, she wanted to be straight with him. “I came here for one reason.”

“You’ll get that. And I’ll eventually earn your trust.”

Which was suddenly getting a little too complicated for her.

“Challenge accepted?”

Since it wasn’t a bet she could lose, she nodded.

“Please stand, turn away from me, lift your skirt, bend over, and grab your ankles.”

Since the patio was on the opposite side from any of the ranch’s buildings, they had privacy. Happily, she slid her drink onto the table then stood, her back to him, and slowly pulled up her skirt.

Since he’d been such a torment, she took her sweet time getting herself into the position he required.

Master Michael left her there for long moments, the sun kissing her skin, a gentle breeze cooling her between the legs.

Slowly, he stood and came up behind her to slide a finger beneath the elastic of her panties then between her labia. “Your pussy is so very wet. I might think you enjoy me withholding orgasm.”

She exhaled her frustration. “It’s anticipation of completion, Sir.”

He continued to move back and forth until she swayed in time with his touch. “You’ve got a beautiful body, Sydney.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“So responsive.” He grasped her underwear in much the same way that he had earlier in the kitchen, see-sawing the material harshly over her clit.

Holding her ankles was nearly impossible as he abraded her pussy. She wanted to stand up, to face him, ride his thigh like she had in the river.

Deftly, he brought her to the brink.

Wondering if there was any way she could manage a small orgasm without him knowing it, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Right then, he snapped the elastic waistband of her panties, and the tiny prick of pain distracted her from the imminent climax.

“You’re close,” he said.

“Yes. Yes, Sir.” Very. She lifted her heels off the ground, unsure if he would really continue to withhold what she wanted, or whether he was testing her.

“Good.” He moved faster.

Her legs began to quake. “Oh, oh, Sir. Oh!”

“Would you like to orgasm?”

“Yes! Please, Sir.”

He stopped.

She let out a shaky, vexed sigh. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.

“You’re my good girl, Sydney,” he murmured. “You’re not arguing with me.”