Hostile Takeover, Hill, W [recommended books to read .TXT] 📗

“Well, you didn’t say I had to be docile and silent.”

“And if I did?”

“I will do my very best, Master,” she said prudently. “Unless you prefer me to fall short in that area, in which case I’m certain I can excel at that.”

Though he chuckled, his response was somber, intent. “You embrace the hard stuff, love it, but I don’t ever want to push you beyond what you can bear, Marcie. You’re going to have to help me learn how to love you. I’ve done a lot of things with women, but that’s one thing I haven’t practiced much.”

She shook her head. “You’ve been practicing a long time. Savannah, Cass, Dana, Rachel, my younger sisters…Ben, you love all of us. You love Peter, Matt, Lucas and Jon. You’ve looked out for them, been part of our family, no matter what.” She met his gaze. “All those letters…you’ve been winning my heart, loving me, for seven years. I trust you. Please give me your collar, Master. I can’t bear another moment without it.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. Picking up the collar, he closed it around her throat. It lay lightly on her collarbone but had enough of a weight and a snug enough fit it stole her breath in all the right ways, sent her brain in a hundred different directions, while keeping one part of it very still, very focused.

His. His. His.

The cuffs just underscored it. He caressed her pulse beneath them, looked at her like that, all naked but for that mark of ownership. “All right,” he said at last, then lifted her in his arms again.

He carried her back out into the loft. On this side, the thick plastic curtain was camouflaged by strategically placed screens. Tonight they’d been adjusted so she could still see the equipment, the latex vacuum bed where she’d lain. Turning her attention to the rest of the apartment, she found a king-sized bed on the lower level, piled up with pillows. She assumed that one was his. But he carried her up the stairs to the open room above it, where there was another king-sized bed and a window to look out at the New Orleans’ lights. Putting her arms around his shoulders, she pressed her face into his throat, her lips there.

“I feel so floaty.”

“You were gone, baby. Off in subspace. You’re still there. You don’t worry about anything. I’ve got you.”

He laid her down in the bed, arranged the covers over her. She suppressed a sigh. She didn’t want him to leave, but she knew he didn’t sleep with women, and there was another bed downstairs. Small steps. No. No, she didn’t want that. He’d said to be herself, tell him what she wanted, needed.

As he moved back toward the stairs, she made a noise and he turned, eyebrow cocked. “What is it, Marcie?”

“I don’t want you to go. Please…come sleep with me?”

He gave her a crooked smile, one that made those emerald green eyes an even deeper color. “Where else would I be sleeping, brat? I’m just turning off the light. The downstairs bed is a guest bed. Closer to the kitchen and bathroom.”

“Oh.” When darkness descended, the lights from the city cast a dim glow over the room. She waited with bated breath until he slid in behind her, lifting her thigh with a firm hand so he could slide his cock between her legs, rest it against her sore pussy, a reminder that she would serve him whenever he desired. But tonight, this was enough. She curved her fingers over his on her breast, glad when he didn’t tell her not to do that. He put his lips against her neck, against that new collar. “Sleep. That’s my last command of the night. Just sleep.”

She was lost to dreams within minutes.

* * * * *

When she woke, it took her a moment to remember—joyously—where she was. But she was alone. Before she could panic over that, she realized two things. One, Ben was moving around the kitchen below. Two, she was still wearing his collar and cuffs. A wonderfully familiar aroma was drifting up from the kitchen, but she couldn’t quite place it since it wasn’t a normal breakfast smell.

Rising, she ran her hands through her hair. She didn’t see clothes for her, not even his shirt, and before she could think about what that meant, he’d realized she was up.

“No clothes, unless you’re cold. Just the collar and cuffs, Marcie. Come down here.”

She did, her legs shaking a little from last night’s exertions, and at the reality of what it all meant. Rising in his bed, coming to him as his, first thing in the morning, every day for the rest of her life. He was wearing only a pair of faded jeans, no shirt, and saliva gathered in her mouth just at the sight of him. As he straightened from doing something with the oven, she obeyed her first desire. Her eyes and mouth soft, she walked right into him, put her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his bare chest.

“Good morning, Master,” she said against his skin.

He slid his arms around her tight, held her that way a long moment, lips in her hair. “Good morning, brat.” Then she gave a little yelp as he hit her bare bottom with the heated spatula. “Go kneel on the pillow by my chair. Going to feed you some breakfast. We have to be in the office in a couple hours for the Chen meet. I assume you’re ready for that?”

“I will be. Um, if I have clothes.”

“Much as I’d love to see Chen’s reaction to you sashaying in bare-assed naked, I had Cass pack you another overnight bag. Max brought it last night when he dropped you off. Do you have your Pickard job in the afternoon?”

She nodded.

“Tell him not to send you on any more investigative jobs that involve going toe to toe with security thugs or