hard now. I’m not sure you’ve got the stamina for what I have in mind.” Mac brushed a smoldering glance over the top of her breasts. “You’re hard to resist, Mistress, but I think I can please you.”
The taunt was there. Oh, he had pride. She delighted in it. She firmed her lips.
“We’ll see,” she said indifferently.
She slipped the button, took the zipper down. Slow. She was hyper-cognizant of his breath on her neck, the tight tension of his body, the muscles pulled back to restrain his movements. She reached in, slid her hand beneath the waist of his dark underwear, leaving the jeans open in front but otherwise unadjusted, and closed her hand around him.
He made a noise, a catching of his breath, but she had closed her eyes, inhaling him through all her senses. The powerful organ in her hand, pulsing against her palm, the wetness at the tip like a tiny kiss against her wrist. She was aware, even if he was not, that he had moved impossibly further against his restraints, straining toward her, toward her grip.
She had small fingers, and she used them to good advantage now, sliding them down his length, finding the base where the curve of his testicles began, her fingers tangling in the soft hair on them. Then back up, caressing him, stroking him, easing her grip, tightening it.
“Violet…” he said. Her head lifted, tilting at an angle because they were so close now, her thigh pressed against his, her lips no more than a finger span apart from his just above her. He had cut himself shaving this morning, she noticed, just a tiny nick on his neck.
27
Joey W. Hill
“Don’t move,” she said. “Not an inch.” She rose up on her toes, placed her lips there, sucking on the closed cut gently, kissing him. Her grip on his cock tightened as she did, and his body quivered against hers, holding back, when she could tell all he wanted to do was disobey.
Violet took her lips away.
“Don’t hurt yourself like that again. I’ll have to shave you,” she warned. “I expect you to take care of what’s mine.” She dug her nails into him, just a bit, and he flinched, but did not twitch under her tight grasp.
“What do you want, Mac?”
“Whatever my Mistress wants.”
She tightened her grip. “Don’t patronize me. Tell me what you want.”
“To make you come.”
“Try again.” She worked her hands beneath his waistband, took the jeans and underwear down to his thighs, freeing his cock and giving her an unimpeded view of his bare, muscular ass. She ran her nails over it, scoring him lightly, then reclaimed his cock, starting a slow rub, up and down his thick, long length.
“Mackenzie,” she measured her tones, matching them to her strokes. “I’m going to make you come in my hand, and it’s going to be very messy and displeasing to me, if you don’t stop the bullshit and tell the truth.” He shifted. She might not have caught it, except her knee was pressed against his leg and she felt it, that subtle attempt to change the effectiveness of her strokes with the angle of his body so he would sustain himself, resist her pressure.
She made the same minor adjustment, followed him, and brought her thumb into action, stroking the tight vein beneath the base of the head.
“Violet, stop.”
“I’m sorry, Mac. That’s not the safe word. You’d die of thirst, remember? But you don’t have to die of thirst. Just ask for water.” In a movement so quick she couldn’t follow it, he dipped his head and fastened his teeth on her throat. “Why waste it, sugar?” he muttered around his grip. “It could be jetting into you, or I could be attending to your pleasure, eating out your pretty cunt.” His jaw had the strength of a pit bull in truth, and Violet felt a moment of panic when she could not immediately jerk back.
Making her decision, she hoped it wouldn’t bring security into the room. She swung her head and smacked it against his cheekbone. He let her go with an oath and she tried to