Page 110 of At Her Pleasure
His expression went cold. “Really? They came together out of love, made a promise to love one another, had a kid born out of that love, but when they betray that love, it has nothing to do with the kid? It has nothing to do with him when it breaks his mother’s heart, her confidence, her self-worth? Yeah. Having a parent whose family isn’t enough for them to keep their legs closed or dick in their pants, it sure as fuck involves the kid.”
He took a steadying breath. “You didn’t ask for that commitment from me. I get that. But when I say I’ll be faithful, you can count on it. Even if we never see one another again. Knowing you accept that from me, it will bring me a kind of peace. A balance, when it doesn’t exist anywhere else.”
She knew he didn’t mean those instances when he might be ‘tested.’ That didn’t count, because those were bites out of his soul. She stared at him as the second hand of her kitchen clock ticked. God help her, he meant it. God help her, she believed him. And understood why he was asking her to accept it. It was about how he wanted to serve her. His Mistress.
“All right,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As she pulled into work on Monday, Cyn tried to remember the last time she’d had a sexual workout that left her sore.
She slid out of the truck. Two aspirin were staying on top of it. She didn’t do much more than coffee in the morning on workdays, but Mick’s presence had inspired her to bake muffins. She wasn’t much on cooking, but she liked to bake. They’d split one as they’d shared coffee.
Coffee was his preferred workday breakfast, too.
He’d made good vegan eggs. Better than hens. His sense of humor was sideways, not full on.
She was still letting him go. Holding onto people didn’t bring anything but pain, and he had a busy life, same as her. But going camping with him, having him for a few more days? That idea was growing on her.
Just because it happened far more rarely to her—maybe never—she wasn’t immune to that besotted euphoria that happened when two people clicked. Noticing bird song, silly smile on your face. All that shit.
It would hurt when he left, but an intimate relationship with pain meant she didn’t armor herself against its inevitable arrival. It would only suck the energy out of this.
Speaking of sucking. Last night she’d bound him spread eagle on her bed and edged him for two hours. Sucking on him, biting him everywhere. Riding him, denying him an orgasm by wrapping a strap barbed like a vampire glove around his balls and the base of his cock. The tiny needles had dug into his substantial erection, which never flagged.
When she freed his hands, just to see what he would do, he gripped her hips and gave her his strength so she could push herself down on him even more forcefully. It proved how much he loved seeing his Mistress get off on hurting him, losing herself in that pleasure.
She climaxed all over him, straddled his face and made him clean her with his mouth, then removed the strap and lay in his arms, letting him suffer another thirty minutes while she played with his cock, rolled his balls in her grip. Then she whispered in his ear.
“Come inside me, Mick. Gentleman’s choice on position.”
His chuckle was a chain pulled to the capacity of its links. “No gentleman here, baby.” In a heartbeat, he’d turned her and was on top, gazing down at her with those intense blue eyes. Just enough time for the condom before he thrust inside her. She let her moans tell him how pleased she was with the power of his thrusts. She watched him groan through his own climax.
Afterward, she had him lie upon her, cradled between her thighs, as she trailed her metal claws up and down his back, slow and easy, dragging the sharp tips lightly over the sensitive areas.
“Like a feather,” he’d muttered against her throat. Put his teeth on her throat and fell asleep that way.
Coming back to the present, she smiled, putting down the container holding the rest of the muffins so she could lift her arms to the sky. A full body stretch. She touched her toes, finishing the move to get the kinks out. When she strolled into the kitchen, Bastion waited with her coffee, his full mouth pursed.
“My, my. Is Sadists R Us having a half-price sale?”
“I’m just looking forward to increasing our bottom line today, for the benefit of TRA and my beloved boss, Rosalinda Thomas.”
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
She put the muffins on the counter. “Made from scratch.”
“You baked for him?” Bastion’s dark eyes shone. “When you unchain him from your basement, can we put him in mine?”
She laughed. Picking up her coffee, she headed for the back staircase. “Meeting in twenty and I’m running late.”
“You’re never late.”
“I am today.”
“Do me a favor and don’t let your department see this side of you. They thrive on your meanness. They believe you shack up with Satan and dine on children.”
“Don’t worry. Terrifying them with my usual management style will only add to my good mood.”