HostileTakeover Read online

  The fact he was going bareback now said that he was sure he was clean and wanted to feel her lips on his skin. It didn’t matter how irritated Ben might get with her, or the volatile quicksand she was walking to get him to be her Master; she knew he would never risk harming her for the pleasure of the moment.

  Though that wasn’t wishful thinking, her hope that she was the first to touch her mouth to his cock without that thin barrier probably was. But she’d let herself have that fantasy. Especially since he was about to grant one of her deepest wishes.

  Her lips parted, tongue darting out as the broad head touched them. He withdrew before she could taste. “Keep them closed,” he ordered in that firm, no-arguments-tolerated voice. She did, making small needy noises in her throat as he came close again, pressed velvet flesh against her sealed mouth. He painted that pre-cum along her lips, making her want to lick them so badly it was almost an involuntary reflex.

  “All right now. Part them, but you wait for me to push forward. No reaching, no movement of your mouth except for how my cock stretches it. All movement comes from me, understand?”

  “Yes, Master.” She did it deliberately or instinctively, she didn’t care. Would he let her get away with it? As he continued to hold himself from her, her heart twinged in disappointment. She relented. “Yes sir.”

  He punished her by making her wait another full minute. When that rigid cock finally pressed against her lips, demanding entry, she let out a mental sigh of joy and relief. An emotion that turned to alarm and incredulity. Holy God. She knew, of course she knew, because she’d heard about it in bits and pieces and touched him through his clothes, but as her mouth opened to take him, it kept being pushed open farther, the hinge of her jaw stretching, straining harder.

  Her dentist had always said she had a small mouth, such that her jaw hurt from opening wide enough for him to do his annual cleanings. But that was good, because she knew Ben would like a tight, wet mouth, one that would clamp around him like a snug pussy. She had a moment of panic, though, thinking she wouldn’t be able to take his full girth. He kept pushing forward, slow, deliberate. It was a little scary to have something that large pushing toward the back of her throat, the steel and meat of him against her teeth.

  How long was he? Was he mostly diameter, or did he have the length as well? She’d practiced this with a large dildo, first using benzocaine, and then learning to do it without it, relaxing those throat muscles. Now that it was truly happening, she had to force her crazy emotional and physical reactions to settle, focus enough to do what she’d prepared herself to do. She wasn’t going to fail in this. A man with a cock this size needed a woman who could service him well.

  There were other things she could do, teasing the ridge around the head, sucking on the tip and, if he’d let her use her hands, please God, she could let them help the work of her mouth. However, she understood this moment wasn’t about technique.

  He was taking his time, which made her chest constrict with a more emotional reaction. While he was ruthless, he really wasn’t cruel. He’d brought her here for aftercare, and now that he was making a Master’s demands on her, he was being patient. He was hard and hot, like steel pulled right from the fire. She’d had a taste of him and now she wanted his climax, wanted to swallow him down. His fingers were tight in her hair, conveying his reaction and holding her steady as well.

  She got him past her gag reflex, and counted it down in her mind, a meditative thing Jon had taught her long ago. At the time, it had been to deal with family and school stress, but she’d discovered the exercise not only kept her body relaxed but those all-important throat muscles as well.

  There. He’d stopped. She wasn’t all the way to the base, but she had a sense she was close. She breathed fast through her nose, trying to slow it down. Easy, easy. Her body was trembling, her pussy leaking arousal on her calves. Her nipples were so tight they ached, the barbells adding to that sensation. She vibrated in guttural sound as he noticed, one hand cupping her right breast, thumb passing over the nipple and tweaking the piercing.

  “That’s my good girl. Hold steady, there.”

  As he began to withdraw, he gave her a gift. “Start sucking me. Show me what else that smart-ass tongue of yours can do.”

  She drew in her cheeks, ecstatic at the sensation when his shaft returned, a deep, slow thrust. She used her tongue and a little bit of her teeth. Teasing the sensitive, throbbing vein under the shaft, flicking against it like plucking a taut violin string, she won an approving grunt, a flex of his fingers.

  He kept it a torturous glide back and forward. As he went out, she nipped and sucked the corona, the broad head, and when he came back in she stroked that vein beneath anew. As she started to make unintelligible noises of pleasure in the back of her throat, he began to pick up speed. It increased the strain on her jaw, but it was all about pleasuring him, serving him. Her every nerve, every brain cell was attuned to it. For him, she could go into subspace with the least provocation. During this, during pain…even listening to the sound of his voice urging her on was enough.

  “There you go. Suck me harder. Fuck…”

  Her fingers, clasping her forearms in that box position at the middle of her back, clenched at the hoarse note. She knew he had awesome control. He’d fucked those three subs to completion before he came for the first time. But she wanted to believe the past couple days had been the continuous teasing foreplay for him it had been for her. She wanted him to lose control, use her hard, leave her jaw aching so badly she’d have trouble speaking the next few days. She wanted to be marked by him in every way.

  She was so deep in that zone she was confused when he pulled out. She reached for him with her mouth, making a noise of protest. In answer, he turned her roughly, pushed her back down into obeisance pose, her arms still boxed so she had to depend on him to guide her face to the mat without harm. He pressed her forehead to it, his hand on the back of her neck. She quivered, her stomach flip-flopping as a plastic tip pushed against her anus. At the squirt of heated lubricant going in, her fingers flexed. Oh God, yes.

  He tossed it aside so she heard the little plastic tube roll out beside her. Then his cock head was at her entrance. “Breath deep and push out against me, Marcie.”

  No one had ever been inside her there. She’d saved it for him, though she’d practiced with various-sized toys to be sure she could handle him. She wasn’t so sure of that now, because the largest toy she’d used had been about two-thirds of his actual girth, and it had been a difficult entry. But she was so wildly aroused she thought she could take him if he was big as a tree trunk.

  She wouldn’t tell him he was her first anal sex. That would change things, give it a significance that could make him withdraw, physically and emotionally. She couldn’t handle that. So she obeyed, breathing deep, pushing out and hoping she could do it.

  She didn’t need to worry. He would care for her, help her, even while demanding she comply, submit, yield to his intent to fuck her. But she still made a female noise of distress as he entered. The lube helped him slide into the opening, but there was so much of him to take. He braced himself over her then, one hand guiding his cock, his dress shirt pressed into her bare back. Reaching beneath her, he closed his other hand over her breast. She was right, it pressed into his palm just right, his fingers spreading over the curve. When he pinched her nipple around the barbell, her hips jerked up against him, taking him an inch deeper. She moaned, undulating in reaction as he stayed still but kept teasing her breast, squeezing and playing with the nipple. God, she was so sensitive around her piercings, and as she got more violent, so did he, pinching harder, tugging.

  She didn’t recognize the sounds coming from her throat in rapid succession, because every touch brought something new from within her. Her hips were pumping, pushing, working against him. She realized he wasn’t moving at all. She was. Taking him deep, deeper. Burning, raging fire, but she could handle it, no matter that her eyes were watering. She co
uld handle him. She belonged to him.

  She was panting in distress, pressing her forehead hard into that mat. “Please…” She was begging, she didn’t know for what, but he did. His hand left her breast, slid up the slope of her belly. Her clit was already contracting when he hooked his finger in the ring, played with the beads, then tugged on it to pull back the hood. Brushing the calloused tip of his finger over that ultrasensitive bundle of nerve endings, he set off a rocket of sensation.

  She screamed like a wild panther in the dead of night, being mounted in the dark by a rough and uncompromising male. He slid home, down to the hilt, his testicles pressed against her pussy, and she made another harsh cry, pleasure and distress at once.

  “Hold me there, baby,” he murmured against her ear. “Just hold me. You can do it. Relax. Just rock with me.”

  He was moving against her hips, but not to pull in or out. He held them fast together, moving their bodies in one smooth roll of motion, a soothing lift and fall like waves in the ocean. It created incremental adjustments of his cock in her ass, which felt wildly good in a concentrated, compressed way. Her pussy was so wet the fluid was sliding down her inner thighs. His testicles were against her labia, so she knew her arousal would mark his ball sac as well. He was still playing with that ring, teasing the beads, brushing his thumb more gently around her clit, keeping those waves of feeling rushing up into her lower belly, the precursor to a violent, overwhelming climax.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. He felt better than anything had ever felt. She wished he was as naked as she was, that she could feel every inch of bare flesh, but Ben kept control, she knew that. Kept his distance. Only this didn’t feel like distance. It felt like intimacy at a level she’d never expected. He was at the threshold of her soul, and she was terrified, realizing that as they progressed forward, if he did as she wanted, he’d be deep in that soul, leaving her no secrets, every part of her stripped bare for him. That was what he demanded. After he won it, he walked away.

  She was his slave, but more than that, she’d always been his. She had to believe that, believe she would be different, no matter how many times women deluded themselves into thinking they would be the one to get into the heart of an emotionally closed, scarred man. Because Ben was exactly that. She’d realized it to a depth she suspected few others did, except maybe Matt. Or Jon, because Jon always knew things like that, whether you told him or not.

  She had to get into Ben’s soul. She didn’t know how except like this, through utter surrender, something he’d won from countless women a hundred times before. Those women hadn’t given him their heart when they were teenagers though. She had, and she’d never gotten it back. He still had it, whether he knew it or not. That made her different.

  “You’re going to come for me now.”

  “Please…you…first. Master.” She was insane, because there was no way she could hold out a millisecond more.

  He pinched her clit, tugged on that ring, began to rub her the wrong way with knowledgeable fingers, holding her climax out of reach. His voice, a growl against her ear, shivered over her nerve endings. “Address me correctly, or nothing is going to happen.”

  “I…did.” She gritted her teeth. “Master.”

  He could pull out, leave her there. He had enough will to do it. But she squeezed down on him with all she had, eliciting an expulsion of breath against her ear, another of those muttered oaths that gave her such ferocious satisfaction.

  Wrapping his fingers in her hair, he jerked her head back. It was an implicit command to open her eyes, such that she was meeting his gaze full on. His eyes blazed like hellfire, his mouth set in an implacable line. “Three seconds, and I pull out, Marcie. I’ll slap ice on that hot cunt of yours until you’re writhing and begging from the agony of it, and you won’t come.”

  “I want you more…than I want that.”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw. Something violent passed through him, something that almost lifted the hair on her neck, instinctive self-preservation. But when he spoke in that savage rumble, his tone was even. “Prove you can obey me. If you can’t do that, I give you nothing.”

  He meant it, she could see he did. Once again she had to concede a battle for the hope of winning the war. Closing her eyes again so he wouldn’t see the tears of frustration, she relented. “Please, sir. You come first. Let me serve you.”

  Just like that, he released her hair, put his hand back on her nape so she was forced to look at the floor. When he started thrusting again, she began to come within three strokes.

  She couldn’t resist him, the internal muscles in her pussy and ass clenching down so hard, the one on empty space, the other on the massive size of him. It was indescribable, how it felt to have him there. The toys she used, they’d been rigid, unyielding, no matter how lifelike. He was living, pulsing, heated flesh, and it galvanized her reaction to a level she’d never experienced before. A long, never-ending wail tore out of her throat. She couldn’t bite it back, even if she’d wanted to do so, her vocal cords pushed to the max, the same way he was pushing all of her body. She convulsed against him, completely lost.

  Still massaging her clit, he slid two of his fingers into her pussy. It shot her over another edge. He thrust into her ass, then slid almost all the way out. Back in, each pass ripping another sound from her throat, another wave of her climax. She clamped down on him, working for her Master, wanting to give him pleasure. She was forming words among the screams, single words that meant so much to her. “Master…fuck…yours…God…”

  Then words weren’t possible. With an expulsion of harsh breath, a primal grunt, he began to release. His hips were slamming against her abused ass, driving her forehead harder into the mat, his other hand now clamped around her boxed forearms to keep from putting additional duress on her neck, an amazing awareness of her even when he was obviously letting go, pushing them both to their limits. She reveled in his groan of pleasure, the way his fingers convulsed on her, the heat that she knew had to be his seed. The flood of his semen was enough to make her cry out anew, and he muttered a savage, gasping oath, responding to her.

  He kept going for quite awhile, long past his completion, as if he was savoring the clench of her muscles over his still-hard cock, prolonging and underscoring her surrender to him. For her, time slowed to a dreamy haze. Her climax spiraled down to intense aftershocks, but her body kept jerking from his thrusts. He didn’t pull out until long after all those aftershocks had faded to a low tide of pleasurable ripples through her stomach. When he did finally withdraw, a soft noise of discomfort broke from her lips, that tight ring of muscles contracting, burning. Suddenly she was aware of just how sore she was. Inside and out. It almost made her smile, but she was too exhausted.

  He didn’t lie down with her, but he did lift her back onto the massage table, laying her on her stomach. One palm settled on her buttock, holding her in place. She heard Rachel’s quiet voice at the door a moment later, and his touch slipped away. He was leaving her aftercare to Jon’s wife. She’d called him Master again, and he was punishing her for that.

  “You promised,” she whispered.

  “What?” Ben squatted near her head, his hand gentle on her hair, thumb stroking her temple. His other hand rested on the edge of the table and she let hers creep up, cover two of his fingers. His glance went to the touch, then back to her face. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the corner of her eye, and she realized he was kissing away the track of a tear. She trembled beneath his mouth, but when he drew back, those eyes still so close, she swallowed, spoke.

  “The club. You said you’d take me.”

  “I said I’d think about it,” he corrected, giving her that sexy stern schoolmaster look.

  “How much longer are you going to think about it?”

  His gaze narrowed, but her stomach eased, seeing a flicker of humor. She lifted her hand, traced the serious mouth. Too serious. Too stern. “You don’t smile as much as you used to.”

  She knew
she was floating, but that was the way it was after something like that. At least she’d read it was this way, overheard discussions about it. Savannah, Rachel, Dana and Cass, having their monthly tea parties on the back deck, underneath her bedroom window. It had been easy enough to crack the window that tiny amount needed and sit below the sill to listen. It became an irresistible regular habit, particularly when she finally heard the words that told her what her feelings were. Submissive cravings. They had access to a whole candy shop outside her reach, but at least she’d been able to press her nose to the glass, learn what was waiting for her there. She’d dreamed of the day she could join them.

  “I have a lot more annoyances than I used to have.” He tugged on a lock of her hair.

  “No, that’s not it. Your heart…it’s all closed up. But it’s okay. I’m here. When are you taking me to the club?”

  His glance shifted, as if her comments had elicited some type of reaction from Rachel, but then he was back to studying her face. His thumb traced over that tear track. “We’ll talk about it later. Rachel is going to take care of you now. You rest. That’s an order. You’re not going to work tomorrow.”

  “Hmm.” She had another contract to finish. She didn’t want him to have to cover her work. Plus, there was something else she owed him. But he was too good at reading her.

  “You want me to mentor you, from this moment on, you obey my orders. Got it? No work tomorrow. Say it.”

  She bit her lip in frustration, but he had that look on his face, and she knew she couldn’t refuse it. “No work tomorrow, sir.”

  He made a point of looking toward her hands, making sure nothing was crossed, and it almost made her smile. Of course, he didn’t look toward her toes.

  Disentangling his fingers, he gave hers a quick squeeze before nodding to Rachel. “Take care of her.”