Page 37 of Smart Ass

Ben nodded. Good. Max understood safewords. That was… Yeah. That was very fucking good, because Ben really wanted to do something that involved safewords right now. “I’m green.” So fucking green.

“Good,” Max said, the words dripping with arousal. “You like a little pain, right?”

Cold pincers settled around Ben’s left nipple, slowly tightening until Ben was shaking with confused agony and need. His head fell back and he screamed.

Only then did Max let up, bringing in a different, softer mechanical hand to soothe the ache.

Ben drew in a gasping breath. Max had better have locked the door and figured out something to muffle the sound. “Can anyone hear us?” he asked anyway.

Max laughed darkly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Ben shivered. What if his colleagues found him like this, half naked and begging for it in the maintenance room? Not real colleagues, but faceless people who would know what a dirty slut he was…

“Yes,” Max continued. “I’ve turned on the ventilation fans to block the sound, but I think I will record this. We can attach it to your next report on Project Unicorn.”

Ben was ninety-nine point nine percent sure that Max would never do that to him. But it was that point one percent that had him wondering. That didn’t pipe up with a safeword.

Goddamn Dom who’d been recording all of his kinky conversations for the past two years. Ben was about to explode.

Pincers untucked his shirt. Cold metal hoses slithered underneath, sliding over his skin. He couldn’t even twist into the sensations because they were everywhere.

“You need to relax, Ben.” Max’s voice was deep and commanding, coming from everywhere.

How was he supposed to relax when Max was touching him? When every part of his body was quivering with anticipation?

The hoses all stopped simultaneously, leaving him bound, but without the reward of pleasure. “Relax,” Max demanded in that husky, sexy voice.

Ben didn’t even know how, but he tried. He let his body get heavy. He leaned into the robotic arms and let them take his weight. One foot left the ground, but it didn’t matter.

Max had him and he could fly.

“Good boy…” Max purred.

Ben snorted. That was the last thing he was.

But Max was touching him again. Spidery fingers dragged down his chest. Something smooth trailed up his leg, getting enticingly close to his ass without ever quite making contact.

Ben moaned.

With lidded eyes, he saw a hand-like extension start to open his buttons. It was all exposed metal and black bands orchestrating the movement of exposed joints.

And it was failing spectacularly.

“Having a little trouble there?” Ben chuckled.

“There’s not a subroutine for buttons,” Max growled back. “Take off your shirt.”

Ben snorted, but he went to work as soon as his hands were free, opening his tie and sliding the little white disks out of their holes with reckless abandon.

Then, because he was terminally stupid, he asked, “So, can I call you Buttons now?”

When he’d thought that Max growled before, it had been metaphorical. All sexy deep voice and frustration.

This time, Max literally growled, an inarticulate sound of anger.

Nice going, Ben, he thought. Piss off the sexy robot who’s protective of his name just when he was about to get into your pants.

Why was Ben’s brain such an asshole?