Willing Sacrifice

Page 32


She had chimes hung from the ceiling, ones that had been making their bell noises from the light breeze stirred by the rainfall. That music joined the flashing lights in her vision, the smell of the rain, the heated water, the dampness of her own skin, to carry her spinning on a sensory experience unlike any other she’d had. It was lovely, intense, mind-numbing, and she wanted it to go on forever.


His hands spasmed on her body, and she had a sudden awareness of other issues. Pulling herself back to reality was a struggle, but she managed it, letting go of both handholds to take a full seat on the underwater bench and catch his shoulders, tugging on him urgently.


He surfaced with a large breath, chest heaving, eyes closed. She realized he’d likely needed his third breath when she began to orgasm. He’d chosen not to break her moment, letting her ride it to the end. Until she brought him up.


She guided him to the bench next to her, shifting in the water so she was resting on his knee. As she pushed his hair back from his face, it reassured her that his arm went around her waist, holding her there, fingers closing over her hip. Despite his being out of breath, the look he gave her when his eyes opened won a smile from her.


“Three breaths, Mistress.”


“Actually,” she said, trying to sound cool and unaffected, “I meant you could surface three times before you finished the job. Not that your third time had to be at the very end.”


He blinked at her, then gave a half chuckle. “Well, my instructors said that nothing fucks you up like not following direction. On the other hand, that means I exceeded expectations.”


“Hooyah,” she responded, and he laughed outright, though he started coughing. She slipped an arm around his back and rubbed, moving more fully on to his lap. As she did, she realized her nearly drowning him hadn’t diminished his own lust at all. His cock was a substantial weight against her leg. Her pussy, still caught in delicious aftershocks, contracted in reaction once more. She wanted to straddle him then and there, let him spend himself as his reward for a job well done, but an out-of-breath man having a climax in hot water was a sure recipe for unconsciousness. Since he was easily two hundred pounds of heavy muscle, there was no way she could drag him out if needed. “Safety first” could be a pain in the ass.


Smiling a little at the thought, she kept stroking his hair away from his face. When he decided to put his head down on her breasts, she allowed it, closing her eyes as he began to nuzzle her with his lips, his hand coming up to cup the left curve, stroke.


She rested her temple against his crown, letting the languorous aftermath of her climax take her over. “What kind of date were you going to suggest?” she asked. “When you were thinking about breaking protocol.”


“Camping.”


She lifted her head, blinked at him. “You want to take me camping, where there’s no indoor plumbing, no place to plug in my hair dryer, no mirror or light for my makeup?”


“You’ll have to rely on me to tell you you’re beautiful.” He settled back farther into his seat, holding her even more firmly. Catching a tendril of her hair, he let it slide between thumb and forefinger, then released it to spring back into a damp curl. His gray eyes passed along her throat, down her breasts, to the rest of her beneath the water. “Easy enough.”


She rolled her eyes at him. “If I ever agree to do such an unlikely thing, I’ll demand quid pro quo. You’ll have to do something you’re not entirely sure you want to do.”


When he didn’t immediately agree, she raised a brow. “A Navy SEAL is worried about what one woman can inflict upon him?”


“Absolutely. We abhor situations without proper intelligence.”


Shaking her head at him, she leaned in, curling her fingers in his hair to hold him still as she put her mouth on his throat. She nipped at the pulsing artery, tracing his windpipe with her tongue. His hands closed over her back, her thigh, tugging her forward in an obvious desire to have her straddle him. It matched her own desire, and even though she knew they wouldn’t finish here, she moved over him, locking gazes as he positioned himself at her opening, fingers digging into her as he slowly slid her onto his length. She was tight, tissues slick and yet also sensitive from the climax, but he moved slow, working into her, cupping the side of her neck as she gripped his shoulders, letting out a murmur as he pushed into her.


“Fuck, you’re heaven,” he said with reverence.


“Don’t move,” she said, a command she reinforced by digging her nails into his shoulders. She wanted to hold his climax out of reach, and not just because she wanted to exert control over him.


“I can take care of you,” he said, reading her mind. “I’m fine.” To prove it, he lodged himself deeper, his jaw set with a look of male determination that sent butterflies fluttering through her chest. And Janet Albright wasn’t a fluttery person in any way.


“I know. Take care of me by serving me at my pleasure. When I demand it. For now, just feel.” She tightened her muscles on his delicious length and savored the torment she gave him, making him stay still. His fingers would leave bruises on her fair flesh. He groaned, thighs twitching beneath hers. “I could make you come like this,” she purred. “Milking you with my pussy, not allowing you to move until you couldn’t help yourself. You’re so very disciplined. It tempts me to do all sorts of things.”


“I can tell.” He gave a desperate half laugh, but then, when she did it again, he gripped her nape, ran his thumb along her jaw, giving her a decidedly more dangerous look. “When I have you under me, I will fuck you unconscious, Mistress.”


“Promises, promises.” She caught his thumb in her mouth, bit down, sucked on it as she worked her muscles on him again. His breath caught in his throat, even as his eyes got more feral. She was pushing the wild animal to the forefront, and loving every moment of it. “What if I fuck you to unconsciousness first?”


Max’s other hand curved around her buttock, fingers teasing the seam. His mood changed, the edgy game they were playing becoming something else as he looked at her. His eyes were moving over her face as if seeing her for the first time. “Let me come inside you, Mistress,” he said. “I want that. And so do you.”


He brought her to his lips, starting the kiss slow and devastating, his fingers burying in her hair, mouth opening farther to seal over her lips, tongue working against hers. Her pussy clenched again, but this time in reaction to his emotional seduction. He cinched his arm around her waist, where no movement at their joining point was possible for either, just that deep penetration, her muscles working against his length, her clit pressed against his hard abdomen, breasts high on his chest. He kept his attention on her mouth, a never-ending kiss where he teased her lips, tongue and the insides of her mouth to the point the nerves were vibrating like a second erogenous zone, hungry to keep him there, filling her, connected to her.


She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezed down with everything she had, pushed against his hold so he knew she wanted to move. Three strokes and his hands convulsed on her. She would figure out how to get him out of the spa if he fainted, but now she had a feeling it would take far more than that to overcome this powerful man. He was moving forward and taking her with him.


“Come for me, Max.”


“You too, Mistress.” He held her tight, working her clit against his body as he reacted to her lift and fall with his own thrusts. “Fuck…”


It was a hard, short climax for her, so intense it gave her a series of shuddering waves that prolonged his own. When he released with a groan, she reveled in the feel of his seed searing inside of her. The water would take away any sticky moisture when they finally parted and left the pool. Yet what was inside of her would trickle onto her wet thighs. She might let him lick himself off her flesh. Or maybe she’d let it stay there, a reminder of what he’d given her.


They finished together, wrapped around one another, breathing hard. He had his face pressed to her throat, her arms still around him, and Janet felt a sense of restful peace she hadn’t felt in so long. Just holding and being held, the world revolving around them.


Gradually, she became aware of the patter of the rain on the tin roof again, saw the dripping waterfall of it off the eaves. She expected it was a good thing it was raining; else her neighbors on the other side of the privacy fence might have gotten an earful.


“Let’s get out and go inside,” she said at length, feeling her fingers pruning. “We can lie on the couch and turn on the fire logs.”


* * * * *


“If I agree to this camping idea, where would we be going? For all I know, you might be ferrying me to some fringe survivalist camp where you and other ex-military types are plotting to take over the government.”


Max chuckled, making her head bounce against his chest. Janet was running her wicked fingernails through his chest hair, teasing his nipple, following the curves and planes of him down to his rib cage, his bare hip, then back up again. She’d wanted him lying on her wide sofa, with her body comfortably draped over him, so that was where they were, lazy as a pair of cats next to the flickering fire logs.


The delivery pizza had been polished off, mostly by him, though Janet had talked herself into three slices. The empty box was under the coffee table. Two empty glasses topside still had the dregs of the hot toddy he’d made them. She dipped a finger in his, tasting the residual sugar and honey, then put that sweetness against his flesh to lick it off. The intimacy stirred him as much the touch. He curved his fingers in her hair, tugged a little, responding to the tease.


“You can hardly blame me for trying to enlist you in our cause,” he said. “I’ve seen you whip giggling interns into ninja assassins in less than six weeks. But since you were whining about indoor plumbing and hair dryers, you may not be as tough as I told them you were.”


She pinched him for that, and he fended her off by grasping her wrist. When she gave him that look that said she wanted to do as she pleased, he waited a charged beat before opening his fingers slowly, letting her go. Still holding his gaze, she pinched him again, hard. The sharp edge of her nails left little burning bites along his flesh that made him struggle to stay still. She put her mouth over them, soothing the pain with her tongue and stirring up other parts. Then she got quiet again, laying her head on his chest once more. He stroked her hair again, liking the feel of that, as well as how she lay between his thighs, her body pressed against his cock, which was proving it was capable of whatever she might demand from him next.

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