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The thought gave him pause. Even during his most intense session moments, he didn’t really go there. But it had been an emotional day.
He set that aside. He’d been given a command and he needed to devote his full attention to it. Sliding his fingers beneath the elastic band, he discovered slick heat. He painted that moisture over the plush lips, the hair peach-fuzz short. He now knew it was a pale color like the lighter strands of her blond hair.
Her lips parted, and he remembered the sound of her breathy gasps as her body tightened and lifted to the skill in his touch. A skill integrated with the pure emotional desire to give her more pleasure than she could handle. He wanted to be what helped her handle it.
Her nipples were visible against the fabric of her bra. He dipped his head to brush a respectful but inquiring kiss in her cleavage, playing his tongue in that soft crevice. Her grip on his shoulder tightened. When he plucked at the top button of her blouse with his teeth, a mock threat to bite it off, her reaction was caught between a shudder of desire and a breathier laugh. He eased two fingers inside, stroking blood-swollen tissues, seeking a deeper penetration that had her hips jerking up to him.
“So beautiful, Mistress,” he muttered against her flesh, rubbing his face against her breasts because his hands were occupied. She had mercy on him then, or increased his torment—for a male sub, they were one and the same. She slipped that button and directed his attention to what was beneath it. Praise Jesus, it was a front clasp bra.
Her hand constricted in his hair, a pull to get him to meet her gaze and see the challenge there. She started to reach for her phone, but they’d played together enough, he arrested the movement with a request for confirmation.
“Get it open with my tongue and teeth without damaging it, and I can have a taste?”
Her eyes darkened with the type of praise he felt down to his balls. Fuck Viagra. A Mistress’s approval could keep him piling hard as long as she needed his cock to serve her. Even if thatcock never actually got called into service, when its readiness was noted, that appreciation fueled his determination, bringing energy and life to meet her demands.
He wanted to raise her desires by sharing his own. She liked the animal side of him when the time was right. It felt more than right.
“Maybe you want me to take more than a taste. Maybe you want me to suckle them, long slow pulls, until you climax just from that, and my fingers in your cunt.”
A feline smile and a tug on his hair, directing his head forward. But as she did that, her lips formed two words.
My tiger.
A startling mirror of the possessive words that had passed through his own mind. They were in the same head space right now. It happened plenty of times for them in their club scenes. Though not to this level of intensity, the potential for it was there, ready to be tapped.
His headache was starting to be a distant memory. Maybe because of the prescription meds. Or because of this, the perfect distraction. If she’d planned that as a way to care for him, he was okay with it. As long as she let him answer in kind.
He put his mouth on the fastener. It broke apart with pressure on the two interlocking pieces, so he used some suction from his mouth, the grip of his teeth, to hold it steady and slid his tongue beneath, against her soft skin. Once he slipped it, the weight of her breasts did the rest, easing the cups apart, the satin cradling them like clouds around the moon.
He traced his tongue over the light blue veins, following them to the left peak. He kept his movements slow, aware of the pounding of her heart under the pressure of his mouth. He looked for her response like he did from an engine he was tuning, detecting where the peak performance sweet spot was.
He'd thought it took his ears to find that spot, but in this case it was far more intuitive than that.
The heavy scent of her arousal, her touch on his head and back, the textures of her clothes and skin, were different but no less welcoming sensations than humming, heated engine components. The cool touch of the breeze off the pond was just enough to give it the right balance.
His knuckles were already brushing her clit with his fingers’ penetration, and he passed the pad of his thumb over that responsive center, adding more pressure, but not too much. Sliding over the hood, massaging it, squeezing to match her body’s coital rhythm, pumping on his fingers.
As he did that, he nibbled and nuzzled his way toward the taut nipple, brushing his jaw over it, his breath. Her nails bit into his nape, her back arching against the flat of his palm.
He'd put his hand there to guide her through doors, that subtle sign of protection and presence, the message to others that she was with him, and she wasn’t to be fucked with. In this company, the message needed to be clear. Now she pressed that part of herself into his hand as if reinforcing her acceptance of that care and support. It filled him with such a need to give to her. Give her…everything.
She’d given him a lot today, and she always had. But now she had him wondering…who gave to her? Who made her their priority? She deserved that kind of cherishing.
He closed his lips on the nipple, making a sound in his throat that would convey primitive need. He couldn’t hear it, but he didn’t matter. It was forher. While he made his initial oral caress easy, gauging her readiness to take it rougher, the deeper bite of her nails, the look in her eyes, filled with the same urgency, unleashed the beast.
He suckled her deep as promised, taking a bite now and then as he kept working her beneath the skirt. Her ass flexed againsthis thighs, her own legs shifting restlessly. Her arm tightened to a full lock over his shoulders as he teased and tasted the peak. He released it only to impatiently nudge the cup partially covering the other breast out of his way, then gave that one the same attention.
She was rocking against him, making his dick strain against the slacks. He doubled down on his own control. He wasn’t going to get a release here. Not the time or place, and his Mistress hadn’t put that on the table. He was the rocket shootingherinto space.
“Fucking love your tits,” he muttered against them. Her hands clutched his shoulders, body bending up. When he felt a slight hesitation, saw the dart of her gaze, he took the worry away. “Nobody here but us, Mistress. I’ll keep us safe. Let it go. Give your sub what you think he’s earned.”
He almost said, “Let me hear you come.” In this lust-filled moment, when his brain wasn’t as sharp as it needed to be, it came perilously close to his lips.
He managed to amend it, added emphasis in case she sensed what he’d been about to say. “Let mefeelyou come.”
She rarely came in club sessions, and when she did, she didn’t allow a submissive more than a quick glance, and often not even that. Before, he’d been able to hear her gasp, her breath making the only noise. She might put a hand on his shoulder, clutch him like she was doing now, the rigidity of the grasp, the jerky rock of her body, telling him she was having an orgasm.
A Mistress denying a sub the right to look at her while she came wasn’t unusual. But he’d suspected her reasons had less to do with the power exchange, and more with a rare area of vulnerability possessed by an amazing woman who seemed confident in so many other ways.
