Page 152 of At Her Pleasure

“You’re all muscle and silky flesh,” he noted. “Not as wiry as you were as a teen, but you don’t let your soft spots give a man too much.”

“I don’t give a man too much of anything. He’ll get spoiled.”

Another smile and he bent forward, pressing his mouth to her thigh. He held that way until her hand came to his hair, fingers digging in.

“I want something, Mistress. I want it bad.”

“Tell me what it is, and I’ll tell you if I’m in the mood to be kind.”

"I want to give you pleasure, Mistress. Let me eat your pussy. Make you sigh in that deep way you do when I give you what you want."

She stroked his hair, making him wait for her answer. He put his forehead above the bandaged area, his breath warm through cloth. Waiting without expectation, showing he knew the decision was all hers. Even as his mouth teased her with its proximity.

She shifted, so he lifted his head. She hooked the leg over his shoulder, spreading her thighs, a nonverbal assent.

He moistened his lips. “May I remove your clothes, Mistress?”

The nearest campsite wasn’t close, and it hadn’t been occupied. Not that either of them was that modest. If someone saw them, fine.

Just don’t fucking interrupt.

“Only the skirt and shoes. And take off your shirt first.” She did her shirt herself, arching to pull it over her head and leaving her in the pink lacy underwear she was wearing.

“Yes, I do occasionally wear pink,” she informed him. “It looks good with my brunette coloring.”

“It surely does.”

She cocked her head in her best coquettish look—which wasn’t that convincing—and ran a finger along the center of his chest. “Does this fit reverse Daddy Dom? Daddy better eat me just right, or he’ll find out what a spanking feels like from his little girl?”

He laughed, making her heart do a hard somersault. Hope could hurt, but she’d accept that kind of pain.

As his gaze traveled back down her body, he slid his hands to her hips, then up under her back. He rose, impressing her with his balance. Her other leg was hooked under his arm as she rode his shoulder, perched like a queen on the throne his shoulder could provide. The bullet graze that had taken flesh hadn’t seemed to bother him. “The circus might be another career option,” she noted.

Another smile as he took her to the side of the motorhome. She could grip some of its various protrusions to anchor herself, arch herself into his mouth. But she changed her mind, wanting to give him more.

"Take me to the bed, Mick. I want you to serve me there."

"Any way you want, Mistress. Anywhere you want."

He had to put her down, but he gripped her hand to lead her up the steps and inside, down the aisle to the bed. Lifting her at the waist, he put her on the mattress. She braced a foot against the door frame that allowed the area to be a private sleeping quarters. The other she slid over his shoulder again.

“You can put your mouth and tongue under the silk if you can get it there without the help of your fingers,” she said. “But you better not rip it.”

He gave her a flash of wolfish teeth, telling her that she might be punishing him for that. She could accept that.

He worshipped her thighs with his mouth, endless strokes and teasing touches, while she sank into it, no desire to rush. She also sank into the idea of a man from whom she could demand more than two hours of her time. If she wanted him to worship her body with his mouth all damn night long, he’d do it. She could devote herself to experiencing it.

It would also remind Mick there was more than one form of service that could demand his attention, his energy, in a way that mattered. In the service of love, of caring for the person who’d told her she needed him.

Just as much as he needed her.

His mouth hovered over her cunt, came in close, the moistness shivering through her. Probing with his tongue under the elastic, he found her folds, the slickness of her body. He pushed the underwear out of his way with his mouth and nose so he could put his lips fully over her, suck on her. A tiny nip with his teeth here and there gave her a shiver, a rush of pleasure as a nip became a full clamp. His teeth held her as his jaw tightened to increase the pressure on her labia. While holding her in that grip, his tongue slid over the compressed, swollen tissues, again and again. Pleasure rocketed through her. She tugged hard on his hair, pressing against his grip on her thigh.

“Oh…” Her hand fisted on the covers, the blankets that smelled like him. She’d make them smell like her, one of many ways she’d wind herself around him. Every thought of her, every memory, every word, would form the bonds that held him to her.

She brought both hands back to her upper body and cupped her breasts, playing over nipples taut behind pink lace. Those fierce blue eyes followed the motion even as his mouth kept cherishing her, driving her. She would writhe and dance, play with herself, tempting him with the sight. Everything she did had his attention as he performed as she desired, with full enthusiasm, his mouth teasing, tasting.

She opened the front clasp of the bra, pushing the cups away. “Come suck me, Mick.”