Home > Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(132)

Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(132)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

And another gift of pregnancy, she was not only slightly larger, but also very sensitive. He grinned when she squirmed under his usual pressure, then lightened his touch. “I get the impression you’re as turned on as I am, Mistress.”

His hair brushed her breasts as he spread the lotion over her stomach, following with kisses.

He reached her mound.

Oh. Yes.

His tongue found her clit, circled. When he started to use his fingers, she ordered, “Tongue and lips only, please,” and gripped his hair to enforce her will.

The vibration of his laugh teased her nerve endings. He ran his tongue over her clit, wiggled it against the sides, descended to circle and probe her entrance, then returned to suck lightly.

His hips rocked slightly as the stimulation to his prostate began to provoke a reaction.

When his hand moved toward his cock, she laughed. “Take hold of me, please.”

With a huff of surprise, he snatched his hand away. Brow furrowed with concentration, he gripped her hips and gave her his full attention. Sucking and licking. Such a beautifully hot tongue—and he was uncannily clever at reading her reactions.

Because he loved her.

And God, she loved him. Her hand stroked his head before she fisted his hair again, making him laugh.

Heat grew inside her, the gathering of pressure focused high and in her clit, tightening, tightening.

As it did, she could feel his grip on her hips become painful as his own climax approached.

And then he closed his mouth over her clit and sucked, flickering his tongue over the top between each vigorous pull. The ribbons of sensation flowing through her system gathered into a tight, colorful ball. More…

Between one breath and another, she exploded, her core pulsing and sending bright streams of pleasure surging outward.

His breath was hot on her pussy, the whine of his own approaching climax almost audible, as she clasped his hair. “Benjamin, look at me.”

His head lifted, his eyes dark with lust.

She held his gaze, fingertips of one hand stroking his cheek.

The scent of her cinnamon lotion, of her juices, filled him with every breath. Her hand in his hair clamped down almost painfully as she stroked his face sweetly.

And that fucking thing she’d put on him hummed and vibrated against an incredibly sensitive place on his groin.

Her clear blue-gray eyes were the most beautiful eyes in the universe, all framed by those thick, dark lashes, and she watched him as the pressure built at the base of his spine and in his cock and low inside him, somewhere deep in his core. Tighter and tighter.

He stared into her eyes, unable to look away, held by her hand, her voice, her eyes.

“Come, Benjamin,” she said softly. “Let it happen.”

And fuck, fuck, fuck, it did. The climax was nothing he’d ever felt before, shaking his body, an impossible brilliant orgasm that somehow happened without him shooting his wad.

His back arched, pulling his hair against her grip. And then it was over. His heart was hammering, fit to destroy him.

Her gaze dropped to his groin.

She smiled. “Let’s see if you can still perform, guard dog.”

Seriously? He looked down. His impossibly erect dick was straining toward her. He pulled in a breath. The fucking vibrations were still hitting him and each time he moved, the rings on his cock and his balls tugged and dragged like squeezing fingers.

Perform. Her pussy was wet and slick and her legs were open and…

She was going to kill him dead.

He lifted his gaze to see if she realized what would happen if she let him loose to…

Her eyes were soft and the look in them hit his heart like a Ma Deuce round, knocking him back, filling his chest as her love went singing through every cell in his body.

“I love you,” he grated.

Her eyes filled with tears, shocking him, terrifying him.

“Anne.”

And then she’d blinked them away. “I love you, too. But if you don’t take me right now, I’ll still beat your ass.”

“Now there’s the Mistress I adore,” he muttered—and sheathed himself in her wet heat with one forceful thrust.

She gasped.

A second later, his cock felt as if it’d been submerged in a boiling tub of sheer fucking pleasure.

“Fuuuuck!” His roar echoed off the walls. Her and that damned abrasive bath mitt. He fought for control as the vibrating devil’s device started bringing him back up.

And she was laughing.

Sweat slicked his chest and back. His entire lower half was one massive exposed nerve. His dick burned with each movement in her incredibly tight, hot cunt—and all he could think about was how much he’d missed her husky laugh.

He grinned at her and palmed her breasts. How could anything be so soft and firm at the same time? “You’re an evil Mistress.”

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