Page 9 of Mine To Break
He’d been unable to take off his shirt for the commercial for fear someone on the force would recognize him. Kicking his pants and boxers off, he shrugged out of the suit coat, careful not to split a seam. He really needed to buy another, but he hated to waste good money on something he rarely wore. “Mal?”
“Yeah, sugar?”
Her voice seemed further away, so he turned and watched her sit on her bed, sliding back to lean against the pillows, though propped up like she was ready for a good show. He probably looked ridiculous, pants-less with cowboy boots, a dress shirt, and tie. With a big yellow bow holding his junk. But somehow he couldn’t make himself care. “When do I get to eat you?”
Now that’s what a Mistress liked to hear. She gave him a sultry wink and let her right hand settle on her stomach suggestively. “Let’s get you undressed first.”
A button popped off in his haste to yank the dress shirt over his head without bothering to unbutton it all the way. He wore a white tee underneath it, and as she’d seen at VCONN, no ink was visible. He stripped the white cotton off and she gasped.
So much ink. Up and down both shoulders, across his chest, his ribs, both black and color. Then he sat on the edge of the bed to jerk off his boots and socks, and she found more ink on his back. “You’ve got a whole book written on your skin.”
“Like I said, there’s no mistaking me once you see the tats.” Finally nude, he turned to face her.
She sat up and traced the eagle wings that trailed down his shoulder, so well done that she could almost feel the feathers. All that ink almost distracted her from the sheer muscle beneath his skin. He was rock hard, lean, not an ounce of fat on him. Plenty of strength to test her.
Plenty of strength to plow into her as hard as she wanted.
He dropped a big palm on her knee. She punished him with a sharp dig of her nails into his pecs.
“Ow.”
“Rule number one: the Mistress puts her body where she wants it. The sub doesn’t touch her unless explicitly ordered to.”
“I’m undressed as you asked.”
“Rule number two: the Mistress doesn’task. She orders.”
His eyes narrowed to slits and he leaned in closer. “So order me already.”
“Patience, sugar. We’ve got all night to play.”
“I don’t want to wait all night to get a taste of you.”
“You will if I tell you to.”
He opened his mouth to retort, but at the steady, unflinching way she stared back at him, he must have decided not to risk it. Because as much as she wanted him between her thighs, she’d sure as hell make him wait if he thought to challenge her. His jaws clenched, muscles flinching beneath his cheek, but he didn’t say another word.
In reward, she lay back on the pillows. “Stay exactly where you are.” When he didn’t answer or acknowledge the command, she arched a brow at him.
“Yes, ma’am.”
His tone was more growl than acquiescence but she’d take it. “Good boy.”
He made another rough grumble, his upper lip curling with disgust. “I’m probably not supposed to growl either.”
“I never said that. A sub’s sweet groans and cries of ecstasy are like music to my ears.”
“I’m not a sub.”
He had a very good point. While he was attracted to her and enjoyed her commands so far, that certainly didn’t mean he’d be willing or even able to fully submit to her. Some light play might be all he could deal with, and that’d disappoint the hell out of her. “We’ll see.”
“If I’m not, you walk?”
“When it’s not good for me, I walk. Same as you.” He didn’t like that thought at all, if the grooves deepening across his forehead were any indication. Ignoring him, she stood and headed for the closet to hang up her dress. Partly a test, because she wanted to see what he’d do. Wait and stay… or follow, even though she hadn’t given him an explicit order? Either she’d deal with, but it’d tell her a lot about his personality.
Of course he followed as if determined to prove exactly how un-submissive he was. “It’ll be good for you, baby.”
Without looking at him, she unzipped the dress and let it slide off her shoulders and down her back, revealing the matching golden straps of her bra. “Oh, is that so? How’d that work for you with all those other women over the past few years?”
