Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
An hour later, the house was quiet, thank fuck. Raoul had left with the women, promising the Mistress that Uzuri would spend the night at his house.
The cops had left.
Travis had left.
Ben was alone with Anne. About damn time.
After grabbing drinks from the fridge, he entered the living room and looked around. Despite being upset, Anne’s friends had done a fine job of cleaning.
Anne was finally still. At the end, she’d been exhausted, running on nerves, and hadn’t sat until he’d brought Bronx in. Then she’d dropped down onto the couch to hug the ecstatic dog.
The woman had so much love to share.
Bronx was still sprawled over her lap as if he couldn’t stand to let her out of touching range.
Ben knew the feeling. Good thing there was enough room for another person on the couch. After handing over the sparkling water, he sat down and pulled her close.
At one time, he’d have taken the liberty of lifting her onto his lap.
Times changed. The sense of loss filled him again. Damn but he’d missed holding her. She felt like a part of him, like the sun in his sky. “Ready to talk?”
Her shoulders curved inward slightly, as if she wasn’t sure she could bear what he might say.
He felt the same. She could break him far too easily.
Stalling, he took a drink of his cold lager for reassurance. She hadn’t thrown out his beer. And she’d said she loved him. His voice came out hoarse. “Where should we start?”
She met his gaze with her level, honest eyes. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
She wasn’t going to give them a chance, was she? She didn’t think love was enough to overcome the differences? Heart sinking, he bit back his protest.
After a moment, he managed to clear his throat. “I am, too. I’d hoped you’d give us a chance.”
Her brows drew together and then she shook her head and half laughed.
“We’re good at miscommunication, aren’t we?
” Her shoulder rubbed against his chest as she took his hand, her grip firm and warm.
“What I meant is that I’m sorry you misunderstood that business with Joey.
Uzuri said you thought I was taking Joey back because I was staring at him. ”
“I…yeah.”
“That wasn’t what was happening. Actually, I’d totally zoned out and was thinking about you.”
His brain was having trouble keeping up.
“I’ve already found Joey a couple of Dommes who will suit him better.”
Jessica had been right. Damn. Ben felt as if he’d been pushing a boulder uphill and reached the top without realizing.
After a few thousand seconds, he caught up.
“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.” He stared at the window, out at the black water, seeing the faint rim of white on the waves like a touch of hope.
But he needed to clear away the past first. He took her hand. “You weren’t even tempted to go back to Joey?”
“Not even. Our needs don’t mesh any longer, although I didn’t want to admit how much I’d—”
“Changed?”
She made a tiny growl. “There’s that word again. You know how I feel about change.”
He snorted. “Pretty much how most people feel about necrophilia.”
She gave a startled laugh and leaned into him more fully. Fuck, yeah. He released her hand and lifted her onto his lap. Bronx gave him a disgruntled look
But this was where she belonged. She fit perfectly in his arms.
“But yes, as my anger at men died, so did my enjoyment of hurting them.” Her hand curved around his jaw firmly enough to give him a surge of pleasure. “I’m still quite, quite fond of domination, though.”
“I never doubted that for a moment, Ma’am.
” He considered her confession—because that was what it sounded like.
He grinned, remembering how she’d said once that her anger had started with God for not making her male, expanded to her father, brothers, uncles, grew to include the government for not allowing women in combat, and on and on.
“So, you took out your annoyance on those poor helpless slaves?”
Her frown stopped just short of a scowl. “So it seems. I’m not happy that I used them that way.”
Raoul hadn’t thought her motivation was unusual. He shrugged. “Seems as if everyone has a shitload of reasons for doing what they do—from getting up in the morning to pounding on someone. You never dished out anything that the slaves didn’t love and beg for.”
“Until you.”
He pulled her closer, kissing the curve between her shoulder and neck. “I’ve liked everything you’ve done to me.”
“Just not full time.”
“Not full time.” His arms tightened. “Anne, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I should’ve given you a chance to explain.”
“This is very true.” Tears shimmered in her eyes before she blinked them away. Her tone turned judicious. “I’m afraid I’ll need to punish you for that. Bear it in mind as we talk.”
The way his cock shot to full arousal, it was liable to sprain something.
The lovely bulge beneath Anne made her want to smile. Made her want to start some action right then and there. But their conversation wasn’t over, and burying problems hadn’t worked well for them.
She indulged herself for just a tiny second, nuzzling his neck to inhale the lingering fragrance of his earthy aftershave and his own underlying, totally masculine scent.
His arms tightened…and the erection beneath her thickened.
Oops. She cleared her throat. “I believe it’s time to move into thinking about you and me and how you asked to keep the D/s within a sexual context.”
Every muscle on his body tensed.
Her realization of the depth of his need was glorious and humbling.
“Anne, if I thought I could take the full time, I—”
“I think it’ll work,” she said quickly. “I want to try.”
His arms turned to steel bars around her as he rasped, “What?”
“Disgusting as the word is, I’ve changed. I don’t need to control everything and everyone any longer. I suppose the need for full-time domination arose from my own fears.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and barely resisted a nibble. “But I’m still totally a sexual Dominant.”
He huffed a laugh. “I’m good with that.”
“It might be nice to live with someone who isn’t a slave. You like me as more than a Mistress—as Anne. I can relax with you.”
She lifted up far enough to capture his lips, those firm knowledgeable lips. God, she’d missed kissing him, missed the way he could make her feel both delicate and powerful, like the time she’d ridden a Clydesdale, knowing the huge horse could easily kill her if it had wanted.
After a minute or more, she sat back. Holding his gaze, she ventured even further out of her comfort zone. “Would…would you like to move in?”
His answer came instantly. “Hell, yes. I love you, Anne.”
Her breath halted as her heart swelled until it took up all the room there was in her chest. He’d said it.
“Ben.” The word was barely audible, and she had to blink back tears. Damn hormones.
His big hand stroked her cheek. “Since we got all that settled, now can I beg the Mistress to take me to the bedroom and punish me?”
“I suppose I can fit you into my busy schedule.” She had a second of grief for the knowledge that she didn’t have a schedule any longer, or a job at all. Then she pushed her worries aside under the rising tide of desire.
She stood and pulled him to his feet. As she led him up the stairs, electricity flickered along her nerves like heat lightning.
Clothes dropped behind her. Behind him.
Feeling the stickiness of sweat and blood on her skin, she veered into the bathroom.
He stepped into her marble shower with her. She’d taught him how to bathe her, and he took over the task now, massaging her scalp and neck, shampooing and rinsing her hair.
His oversized hands were surprisingly gentle as he washed her body, kissing every battle mark. He traced over the painful bruises on her face and hip as well as the ones on her arms showing the blows she’d blocked.
The way his face darkened made her heart melt. He’d accepted that she could care for herself—and now she could see his protectiveness as a gift.
When he finished, she took the soap from his hand and did the same for him. His wet hair tangled, brushing against his thick muscular shoulders.
Her hands moved down. Had she ever met anyone with such a gorgeous back? She traced her fingers across the hills and valleys of each muscle.
She kissed his neck, inhaling the clean scent. Under the light mat of chest hair, his pectoral muscles turned taut under her touch. His nipples were tiny points. When she stroked and counted the ridges on his abdomen, one ridge at a time—eight—she heard his teeth grinding together.
Eventually, she reached his cock and the very neatly trimmed hair around it. Such diligence should be rewarded. “Very nice, Benjamin.” She ran a finger around the base.
He made a pleasingly guttural sound.
And her need soared. “I’ve heard this part of the body must be kept very, very clean. I’ll do my best.” First, she soaped the straining erection, enjoying the slippery silkiness and how it tried to bob within her grip.
His balls, with their slight furriness, felt heavy and potent in her palms. She snorted. Very potent, actually.
“I think I’m clean, Mistress,” he muttered, bracing a hand on the wall.
Her clit was throbbing with its own demands, and her core ached to be filled with him. But more than that, her heart wanted his arms around her, his mouth on hers. She wanted to breathe him in, to burrow against his strength, to hold him and comfort him in return.
But not yet. Mistresses were stronger than that. And she had a…need…to push him.
“Ma’am,” he growled.
“Almost, my tiger. You’re almost clean enough.” She picked up her exfoliation mitt from the low bench and applied it to his shaft, gently at first, then slightly more vigorously, until he groaned as he struggled for control.
Lovely. Her body was humming with need, the hot shower cooler than the blaze of her skin.