“Three. Four.” Slower. Sliding over every fucking inch with a wrench-tight grip.
“Five.” She drew it out and starbursts were flickering before his eyes.
“Come for me, Ben,” she snapped out. One hand gripped his nuts and squeezed, her body rubbed on his burning ass to light up the skin like wildfire, and her hot fist jackhammered his shaft up and down.
He came. Jesus fucking Christ, he came, spurting all over her fingers, spasm after spasm, until he could swear he’d exhausted his load and started on blood.
He sagged against the cross, wishing it was a real cross so he’d have a place to lean his forehead.
Her hand still slid over his cock, ever so gently, letting him ride out the last clench. “Very nice, Ben. Stay there a minute.”
To his bottomless regret, she moved away. Cool air wafted over his sweaty back and felt like heaven on his raw ass.
And then she put an arm around his waist. “Step back. Let’s see how well your legs are working.”
“As if you could hold me up.”
The sharp smack on his ass almost made him yelp.
He snorted and grinned. She reminded him of his favorite drill sergeant. “Sorry, Ma’am.” His legs held just fine as she guided him to the bench where she’d tossed a towel.
“Sit on that.”
He sat and gritted his teeth, feeling every abrasive strand in the damn towel. She set a cleansing wipe on his thigh, the coolness startling against his hot skin.
“You may clean yourself, Benjamin.”
She’d already wiped off her hands, he noticed as he gave himself a swiping.
“Very good.” Standing right in front of him, she stroked his hair, and damn, he could smell her—pure sexy woman. Her steel blue gaze studied him for a moment before she handed him a bottle of water, the top already removed. “Drink all of this.”
He drank some while he considered. How far could he push?
How far did he want to push?
“Thank you, Ma’am. I enjoyed this.”
She sat beside him, her thigh warm against his. Her small hand took his jaw and turned his face to hers. He seized the moment to tip his lips into her palm and kiss lightly. That won him a quirk of her lips in a stifled smile as well as a cautionary flex of her fingers—he had no doubt she’d leave bruises if he didn’t heed her warning.
“Did you enjoy the pain, Ben?”
Shit, she would ask about that. Extending his legs, he leaned back against the wall and chugged the water, trying to get his answer in order. “I’m pretty sure I don’t get off on just pain. But when it’s mixed with…”
“Arousal? In a sexual situation?”
“That. Yeah.” When her hand rubbed his jaw, he could hear the scritching of the stubble. How would she feel about an abrasively heavy five-o’clock shadow between her silky thighs? “Haven’t come that hard in years.”
“I see.” A moment of silence. “I suppose that gives you something to think about.”
Hell, she was withdrawing. The sense of disappointment was keen and a bit ridiculous. Had he expected her to fall all over him, this Domme who could have any man she wanted at her feet?
Nonetheless, she needed to know he…wanted more. Turning, he faced her, placed his hand over hers to hold it in place. “Mistress Anne, can I perform any service for you in return?”
Her pupils dilated slightly, and he heard her catch her breath. She knew just what he was offering. Then her lips twisted in a slight smile that showed a single dimple. “I should have you wash my car.”
“That wasn’t what I meant, Ma’am.” He made the reproach in his voice clear.
Laughter danced in her eyes. And here he’d always thought she was so serious. “You really are delightful, Ben. But I need nothing.” Her hand moved from his face despite his attempt to keep her there. “You’ve finished the water. How do you feel?”
“Fine, Ma’am.”
“Then I want you to get dressed and clean the equipment which you flooded.”
Her gaze trapped his—to see if he’d react.
As if anyone who’d put in barracks time would be embarrassed by jism…anywhere? “Yes, Ma’am.”
Her chuckle was low and pleased. “Not much upsets you, does it?”
“RPGs and IEDs, those are upsetting. Anything less—not so much.”
“You’re quite a guy, guard dog.” She ran her hand down his arm, tracing the muscles of his biceps, in that way that women did—much the same way that a man would enjoy a woman’s breasts. She liked his body. Liked him.
And was still stepping back. Fuck. That.