A View to a Thrill (Masters and Mercenaries Book 7) (15 page)

“Spank it?” The question had a little tremble to it.

He let his hand run down to the small of her back. “That and so much more. I’ll play with it. I’ll rim your little hole with my fingers to make sure you can one day take my cock there.”

“We should talk about that,” she started.

He gave that glorious piece of flesh he obsessed over a nice hard smack. “I’m not doing it tonight. I am going to do something else.” He slid his hand to her thigh. He’d noticed the tightness in her eyes. She could use a session, but again, his go bag was floggerless—another oversight. He had to take care of her in a different manner. He’d studied up on her type of injury. She was a stubborn girl and neglected her body, preferring to use that big brain of hers. She needed a good rubdown, but likely found it far too intimate.

If there was one thing he was going to do, it was give her what she needed.

He slid his hand over her hamstrings, giving her firm pressure as he stroked down her leg.

She squirmed a little. “Hey.”

He gave her another smack. “Hush unless you want me to stop.”

A groan shuddered through her body as he squeezed her calf. “What are you doing, Weston?”

When she was trying to distance, she always called him Weston. He wanted her purring his Christian name before the night was through. “You’re in pain. I’m trying to make sure you can walk in the morning.”

“Oh, oh. I shouldn’t let you, but do that again.”

Yes, that was what he wanted. He wanted her purring. He ran his thumb over a tight muscle, finding the pressure point and pressing down. She groaned again, but after a moment the knot relaxed and he moved on to the next one.

She wasn’t leggy like her sister. Charlotte was tall, but Chelsea was more average height. Her legs weren’t long, but he liked being bigger than her. He could take her entire calf and engulf it in his two hands. She seemed to relax further every time he did it. Over and over he rubbed, finding the knots and working them out. He slid her socks off and rubbed her feet.

“God, Simon. That feels so good.”

“Aftercare. Or in this case simply care. It’s what I always wanted to give you.” The one time he’d been her chosen Dom, she’d called for her sister after he was done. She hadn’t known he’d carefully prepped an aftercare room. He’d borrowed an aromatherapy machine and poured lavender oil in it because it was supposed to be relaxing. He’d made sure the sheets on the massage table had been warmed and he’d stupidly laid out a single, perfect, chosen-by-hand rose. He’d made a complete idiot of himself.

And she’d called for Charlotte.

“Simon, I’m sorry about that day. I was…scared. I don’t know. You want more than I can possibly give you.” She sighed as he pressed his thumb into the arch of her foot.

He wanted everything from her, but he had to be patient. “We’ll take it slow. Are you ready to give me your knickers?”

“No.”

He would have to try harder.

“You don’t think they’re ugly?” Chelsea asked as his hand moved across the longest of her scars.

This was why she’d always held him back. He knew it, but it was ridiculous. There was nothing ugly about her body. She just had a few scars and so did he. “I think you have beautiful legs, Chelsea. There’s nothing at all wrong with you.”

He straddled her and pushed her hair out of the way so he could get to the nape of her neck. He put his mouth there, nipping and kissing and licking his way down her spine. He loved the way she shivered when he licked the back of her knees. When he’d given her back the full treatment, he flipped her over.

He went straight for her neck, burying his face there while he let his hand find its way down to her pussy. He slid his fingers under the band of her knickers and right across her clitoris.

Chelsea nearly sat straight up.

He eased her back down, his mouth playing at hers. “You like that?”

“Oh my god.” She shook slightly and her eyes flared every time he circled her clit.

“Do you know how much better it would feel if it was my mouth sucking at your clit? I want to taste you, Chelsea. I want to shove my tongue up your cunt and suck down all that glorious juice it’s making for me. Do you want me to kiss and lick and suck at your pussy?”

“I don’t…god, I can’t think…that feels so good.”

He pulled his hand away. “I told you what I wanted. Are you going to give it to me or should I turn over and go to sleep?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Damn it all. He’d overplayed his hand and he couldn’t go back now. He should have gotten her hotter, tried harder.

If he went back on his word, he would never be her Dom. He would always be the boy she could do whatever she wanted with and that wasn’t what she needed.

“All right then.” He rolled off her and got to his feet. “Go to sleep, Chelsea. I’ll wake you when it’s time to move.”

He’d gambled and lost. He turned away and walked back to the small, dilapidated desk. He would sit and watch over her since that seemed to be all she would allow him to do.

It was going to be a long night.

* * * *

When had he become such a drama queen? She’d hesitated for a half a second and he’d gotten up. And she was the martyr? He was turned away from her, his hands on his hips. His head was down and he was breathing heavily.

She had two choices. She could do exactly what he said and turn over and pretend nothing at all had happened and maybe they would be on a better footing in the morning, or she could get him to do that thing he’d said he would do to her girl parts. That thing had felt amazing when he’d done it with his thumb. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like if it was his tongue touching her there.

Of course it could be a truly awful experience. What if she tasted horrible? She’d showered and done all the hygienic things a girl should do. Hell, she’d even shaved, not because she thought some gorgeous British god of a man might want to inspect her lady bits, but because she hated all that hair. At least she was fairly certain she was clean down there, except that she was ridiculously wet, but that kind of seemed to be the point of the exercise.

A weird Venn diagram formed in her head. In the
A
bubble was her pride and in the
B
was her curiosity. She quickly placed peace of mind and safety in
A
and orgasm in
B
. Yep, she was seriously curious about that orgasm. Then there was that place where the bubbles overlapped. Her knickers. She could keep them and her pride or she could give them up and potentially get an orgasm. That was kind of wrong. She would be pretty damn proud if she actually had one, right? It wasn’t like this was a game and if she gave in to the Dom she lost. She got a potential orgasm and proof positive that her parts worked like other women’s. Circle
B
won.

She sat up. Decision made.

And she was so buying new undies. She bought all her clothes off the Internet and half the time they didn’t fit. She needed an upgrade from underwear she could buy in a pack of nine and T-shirts with snarky sayings.

She slipped out of the undies and held them in her hand. She would rather toss them to the side, but he’d been specific. She had to give them to him like a massive granny panty gift. Doms were all about the specifics.

“Simon.” She hated standing around naked, but he’d been serious about that, too. And actually it felt kind of nice to not cover up. He hadn’t vomited at the sight of her scars. He’d just rubbed her and made her feel really good. And he had some pretty nasty shit on his hot bod. She wanted to kiss and lick his scars, and what the hell was up with that?

“Go to sleep, Chelsea. I’ll turn the light off in a moment.”

It was time for her to soothe her Dom and give him sweet words and coax him back to bed. “Do you want the underwear or not?”

Yeah, she was probably never going to be that girl.

He turned on her and she was rewarded with the way his baby blues flared. He grabbed the panties out of her hand. “I thought you were done for the night.”

She felt herself flush under his stare. “I need time to think every now and then. I just had to make the decision. I decided I want you to lick me because it seems like a good thing to try.”

“Not good enough. I told you I’m not a curiosity.”

He was a frustration. He was going to make her say it. She needed to be bold and plain. How would Charlotte put it? She wouldn’t prevaricate. She would simply use words that would mean something to her man. “Simon, if you don’t eat my pussy I’m going to die.”

She found herself in his arms again. “That will work, love. I was going to spend the night in throes of frustration if I didn’t get my mouth on you.”

He lowered his lips and suddenly his tongue was inside, tangling with hers as he backed her to the bed. She loved kissing him. She could lose herself for hours in just playing with his mouth. Now that she was naked, she took inventory of how it felt to be against him. His shirt was off so the hard warmth of his chest met hers, making her nipples peak. Somehow she’d damn near climbed up his body. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but her legs were around his waist and she could feel the material of his slacks against her thighs.

And then she felt the bedspread against her back and his weight on top of her. He was heavy. So heavy. But he was Simon, so she forced herself to take a deep breath and not flip out on the hot guy who was really just trying to give her an orgasm.

“What happened?” Simon’s head came up. He looked down at her. “Sorry. I forgot.”

He eased his body to the side, sliding over so he could nuzzle her breasts.

How could he have known that being pinned down bugged her? “Forgot what?”

His hand found her now naked girl parts and heat threatened to overwhelm her. “I lost my head a bit. I know it bothers you to have a man’s weight on top of you. It’s all right. We can do this your way for now.”

“How did you know? And I don’t think I have a way, Simon.” He was confusing her. He knew so much but there was no way he could really know. Charlotte wouldn’t have told him. There were no records to find.

He moved down her body again, seemingly unconcerned with her near panic. “You told me you don’t like being tied down. My weight on top of you would feel very similar. I’ve got five and a half stone on you, love. If I’m on top of you, you can’t move, can’t fight me off. It’s all right. And you do have a way. We just have to find it. How do you like this?”

He placed his thumb squarely over her clit, gently pressed down and then rotated it.

Holy mother of… “I like it. You should keep doing that.”

She couldn’t help it. She pressed her pelvis up, trying to keep that amazing sensation going.

“No.” He moved his hand away, proving he was a ratfink bastard torturer Dom. Mean. Mean man. “I think we’ve adequately found evidence that you like that particular touch. We should move on.”

“I hate you.” But it was said with a little whine because she kind of wanted to see what else he would do.

He’d moved all the way down her body and off the bed. He was on his knees between her legs. He dragged her further down to the edge of the mattress so her backside was right there. He forced her legs high, spreading her wide.

“Uhm, this feels a little like an exam I try to avoid on a yearly basis.” It was awkward. She was fully on display. There was nowhere to hide.

“It’s so fucking pretty.” His voice had lowered to a sexy growl she’d never once heard from any gynecologist. “It’s a lovely pink and coral flower and it’s all mine.” He leaned over and put his nose right in her pussy and took a deep breath. “God, you smell good. You’re going to taste even better.”

It was way too intimate. She really should do that “saying no” thing, but her brain just seemed a little fuzzy and able to focus on one thing and only one thing—her pussy and getting him to touch her there again.

“You’re so wet, love. Keep your legs spread for me.” He let go of her ankles and his fingers were skimming her sensitive flesh.

She planted her heels on the edge of the bed and bit her lip to stop herself from begging him to touch her harder. She wasn’t going to do that. Nope. Suggesting that he did anything but what he wanted to do would likely end up with her ass getting all the attention as he smacked it. Smart. She would play it smart because she’d learned that smart girls got all the treats.

Or at least in her fantasy world they did.

“Let’s see how you feel about this.”

Pure pleasure raced through her veins as he put his mouth right over her pussy and licked along the center. Soft and hot, his tongue covered her. She could feel arousal pulsing through her system.

“You have to talk to me, love. I can’t know that you liked that at all if you don’t tell me.” His fingers parted her labia, his tongue diving deep this time and taking away her will to do anything but remain still for him so he wouldn’t stop what he was doing.

How could he expect her to talk? She could barely breathe. “Shouldn’t you do that thing where you observe and look for clues? You can’t expect me to give you a blow by blow of how this feels.”

Something big started to breach her pussy. Her eyes flew open and she looked down. Simon was looking up at her from his place between her legs. He eased one large finger into her channel. “Do you mean that I should apply rational thought and take the fact that your pussy is sopping, soaking wet as evidence that you like having it licked and sucked?”

She nodded, unable to take her eyes off him. His lips—those gorgeous lips—glistened with her arousal. He’d put his mouth on the most intimate part of her. He’d kissed her and lavished affection on her. She would never forget how decadently beautiful this man was.

“Should I take into account that you’re soft around my finger and this little jewel is red and wanting and poking desperately out of its hood.” He leaned over, and she nearly screamed when he gave her clit another lick.

“You’re killing me.” She wasn’t going to beg. No. She had to keep some pride, right? She had to try to stay her tough-girl self, and her inner tough girl never begged for anything.