Page 153 of At Her Pleasure
He moved up her body, and as he did, she adjusted her knee to rub it against his arousal, pleased with what she found. His eyes sparked in the dim light before he dipped his head to draw her right nipple into a forceful suckle. He gripped her knee, holding it in place against him as he worked his hips, letting her feel his length.
When he let her go, she opened her legs, hands guiding him to rest his chest and upper abdomen against her wet center as he settled to feast. She made herself stay still, didn’t grind against him, a sure way to make her climax. She didn’t want to go there yet.
She moved to his shoulders, thumb brushing the scar she’d given him before she slid her palms over his back, feeling the healing impression of the X. Any time it threatened to disappear, she’d open it up again, so he’d bear that brand from her, too. Always. She dug her nails into it, and earned a harsh groan even as his service to her breasts didn’t slacken.
Not until she put a hand on his jaw, breaking the contact. “I want you inside me.”
He sat back only long enough to open the jeans, shove them down, and don a condom.
“Soon as you test clean, nothing is between us ever again,” she told him. She had no doubts about his fidelity. None.
His eyes flared with heat, and she clasped her legs over his hips, urging him fully onto the bed with her. As he braced his hands by her shoulders, she put her palms on his face, holding them both still. Vibrating with need, but waiting, gazes locked.
She tightened her legs, drawing him into her, inch by inch, until they were fully joined. His face was set with self-restraint. Wanting to test him, she lay back and began to undulate on his length, a slick up and down. Her fingers dug into his braced arm, telling him to stay still.
“Look down, Mick,” she said in a throaty voice. “Watch how my cunt slides down over your cock, leaving you so slippery. All the way…back up.”
“Christ. Mistress.”
“Stay still.”
She kept doing it while he shuddered, while his muscles stood out on his arms and chest, a feast for her eyes. Finally, she let go, the climax rolling through her while he had to stand fast and watch it happen.
Her servant. Her sub. Her slave.
She said all those things to him, watched him come apart behind his eyes, needing that possession with an intensity she would never take for granted. She’d respect it in ways he couldn’t yet imagine. In ways they’d explore together.
She brought him down to her. When he slid his arm beneath her and held her tight against his chest, she folded hers over his back.
“Beg me to come,” she whispered.
“Please let me come inside you, Mistress. And when I can do it with nothing between us, I’ll mark you as mine, too.”
Her lips curved against his rough cheek. “You’d get a punishment for that if you weren’t trembling, your voice full of such need. Come for me, Mick.”
He thrust into her in one violent stroke, making her glad he was holding onto her so securely. As he lifted his upper body to work himself in her, she put her hands on his chest, curled her fingers into rough hair and heated flesh, and watched the climax roar over him. The groans were torn from deep inside.
She met him thrust for thrust. The motorhome rocked, the mattress pressing into her sides as he thrust her into it. An aftershock made her gasp with pleasure. When he finished, her body milked his cock until there was nothing left. At least for a little while. He’d proven he had impressive recovery time. And stamina.
The man was committed to doing a thorough job on any assigned task. Going above and beyond expectations.
The thought had some sobering implications, taking her back to how this had started. And why. “You’re mine, Mick,” she said softly. “I won’t let you go.”
He had his head down beside hers, so she couldn’t see his face. She put both her hands over his skull, cradled it. The flesh stretched over bone on the right side was rough beneath the hairline, another harrowing scar. “You serve me. Your pain, your love. Tell me you understand,” she whispered. “Look at me.”
When he did, he braced himself above her again. His eyes still had that weary look, but they also held what they’d just shared, and a deep need to be with her. A passion to be right here, together. The possibilities had sunk into him, which was what she’d wanted to happen. Another step in the right direction.
“Tell me you understand,” she repeated.
The answer came slow. “I’m afraid I’ll fall apart and hurt you, Mistress. I’m going to become a fucking mess before anything gets better.”
If they get better. He didn’t say that part. He knew she wouldn’t let him, though he probably didn’t know why.
She wasn’t going to let it be true.
“You will never hurt me as much as I can hurt you, Mick. That’s a promise.”
His lips curved. “Now that’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.”