A smile had touched his lips even as his heart pounded faster, particularly when she worked her shirt up like a strip tease during the “You got it if you want it” part. She got it all the way off as Bruno took it back to the chorus line.
Every part of her was an invitation to her Master to take whatever he wanted. She’d continued her erotic dance in her lacy scrap of bra, the smooth muscles in her abdomen tempting his mouth, her hands caressing the curves he wouldn’t wait another moment to touch, squeeze, mark.
He’d taken a lot that night, and she’d been a vessel for his darkest desires. At the end of it, she’d been spent and weak. He’d carried her back to the controls, holding her in his lap as he returned the setting to the ballroom dancers. As she watched them, she reached out with trembling fingers as if she’d pass them through the light of their bodies. Her lips curved in a soft smile, her long-lashed eyelids dropping low, so her eyes were glimmers of russet fire.
VR goggles were becoming the preferred way to experience such fantasies, but he was glad The Zone still employed a room for the holographic idea. He didn’t want to see Marcie through a lens and, when he touched her, he wanted his actual hands on her actual flesh.
Coming back to the present, he noted how the tiger’s golden sparkles on the shirt brought out amber lights in her dark brown eyes. The generous amount of skin revealed by the neckline was graced by a thin gold chain and a pendant with three pressed forget-me-nots under glass. She had a steel collar and cuffs with an etching of the flowers upon them, but they were unmistakably for a submissive serving her Master. He put them on her when it was just the two of them, when he particularly wanted to reinforce the bond between them or she needed it; usually one and the same.
The pendant she wore now was something she’d made of the flowers he’d sent her in college, and he’d agreed that could be her public collar, with the sparkling chain he’d bought her, whenever she wished to wear it. Except when her job required otherwise, he’d rarely seen her without it.
As she came toward him, her heeled boots gave her hips a distracting sway and her breasts a God-blessed quiver. Her own blond hair, similar to her sister Cassandra’s, had been left down, because she knew he liked it that way. Unless he was wrapping the thick tail of it around his fist as he was driving into her from behind. A thought he put deep in his head, so he wouldn’t embarrass himself in mixed company.
Back when he and Marcie had finally had their “okay, we’re together” moment, he’d made the asinine decision that, for the next several weeks, they weren’t having actual sex. He’d told her he could command her climax how and whenever he wished, but she wouldn’t be taking care of his—not directly.
He’d thought he might get carpal tunnel from how much he’d jacked off after their nightly phone calls. But there had been a good reason for the stipulation, even if his cock had thought he was a moron. Though there wasn’t a written instruction book anywhere, the K&A men had a ritual for making a woman theirs for keeps. Each of them, when finding the submissive of his dreams, had orchestrated a sexual encounter that included all of them in some way, an erotic blessing of sorts on the relationship.
His lips twisted. Yeah, as a lawyer, he had an impressive command of the English language. But for things like this, he needed Jon’s gift for words. Marcie had known about that ritual, and had fantasized about it. He’d wanted her to experience it in the best way possible. When he’d buried himself in her at the end of that unforgettable evening, the explosive energy of three weeks of deprivation had been part of the mix, and had made it all worth it.
But there had been another reason he’d set that period of abstinence hell, and maybe it was the most important one, though Ben wasn’t likely to say it aloud unless someone put a hot stick to his testicles. He’d wanted to court her. He’d wanted to have the pleasure of taking her to dinner, dancing, or on outings like this. The sweet promise of her body, her full submission, had been there and waiting, but he liked the anticipation, the thinking about it, while delving deep into other things about her he hadn’t allowed himself to enjoy fully until that time.
Even so, he was glad he didn’t have to endure another three-week stint like that. Now that she was his, he wanted to be able to enjoy her fully whenever he wished.
When she reached him, Marcie smoothed her hands over his chest, caressing the dark blue button-down shirt he was wearing over black jeans. Her gaze flickered with amusement as she fixed his collar, Peter’s manhandling having pushed it up against his neck on one side.
“One day he’s going to crush you like a bug,” she observed.
“So little confidence in your man,” he reproved. “I just didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his wife. My ego’s tougher than his.”
“Your ego could qualify as a super power,” Peter suggested, within hearing distance.
“Isn’t it time for your hourly steroid shot?”
Marcie chuckled at their banter, but her brown eyes fixed on his face as she tangled her fingers in his chest hair, accessible from the open collar of the shirt. Ben put his hand over hers and squeezed in warning, as he recognized the playful light in her gaze. He wouldn’t put it past her to rub against him like a cat just to incite that erection he was trying to quell. His brat did like punishment.
But her mouth became more serious as she rose on her toes to brush her mouth against his. “It’s really nice that you’re doing this.”
He slid his arms around her waist, palm molding to her hip, and leaned back against the frame of the sun porch adjacent to the patio. In that position, he was supporting them both, enjoying the feel of her against him. “What? Spending the day with five beautiful women and having every male in New Orleans wish he was in my shoes? Yeah, it’s a burden.”
She shook her head. “You told Matt there wasn’t enough choice pussy in the world to compel you to go shopping with a bunch of women.”
“When did I say that?” He narrowed his eyes. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t have said that in front of any of you.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Her eyes sparkled. “But I have sharp ears, and I’m not always asleep when you think I am.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He drew her closer, and felt that odd surge of comfort and warmth when she laid her head on his chest, tightening her arms around his back. One of those things that could crazily be as good as sex. He put his nose in her hair and inhaled deep. On second thought, maybe they’d just stay like this for a few hours, letting the fall New Orleans’ sunlight keep them warm.
“I changed my mind when I saw your eyes light up at the idea,” he said quietly. “You make me do a lot of foolish things.”
Her fingertips slid down his spine, and she nestled her head deeper against his chest. “Don’t say that marrying me is foolish.”