Page 15 of Agency
I kept him fixed with that gaze for another long moment, just to see if he’d waver, change his mind, or do something else that was stupid. He didn’t.
“Good.”
“Now, what’s my mistress’s command?”
“Mistress, huh? Trying to earn brownie points, or something?”
“Maybe just trying to make up for being a jack ass.”
“Well, you can do that by following your mistress’s orders.”
The hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. I could have taken the ghost of a smirk as disrespectful, but I didn’t. Very soon, those full, kissable lips wouldn’t have time for smiles or smirks. They’d be too busy moaning and begging.
“And you can start by taking off your boots and socks,” I said. “Then your shirt.”
“Yes, mistress,” he said, that small smile still there, but now growing into an almost-grin as he kicked off his footwear, then began to reach for the hem of his dark T-shirt.
And, oh my, I struggled not to grin at what that flimsy cotton had so fully concealed from my eyes, if not my hands. This man was cut and powerful, with the kind of lean muscles you might see on a swimmer, or someone who did crossfit every day, before running a 10k that night. Not overly huge, no. But, my heavens was he a sight to behold as the shirt became a pool of cloth at his feet.
His hands were already going to his belt, but I stopped him with a gesture, saying, “Leave it. I’ll handle that when it’s time.”
He took his hands away, but the grin still didn’t leave his lips. Not yet.
“And keep your hands at your sides. No touching until I say so. Understood?”
He nodded.
I took a step towards him, letting my hands close the gap between us. So warm, so hard, so soft, I ran my fingers over him. Grazing my nails across his flesh, I examined every part of him.
“What’s this?” I asked, my nails tracing a loose circle around a long-faded tattoo on his ribs. Numbers and words, with no picture, they were the only piece of ink adorning his beautiful form.
And, trust me, his form was beautiful.
“This a meat tag?”
“Uh… yeah.” The surprise evident in his voice at the fact I knew what one was. “It is.”
My eyes flickered to his.
Some infantry get themselves tattooed with their military ID and vital information directly on their body, in case they’re so disfigured in an IED explosion that they’re only able to use their torso to identify them.
Macabre, I know. But, I’d always felt the tag was a way for them to embrace and preemptively cope with their mortality, a more modern way of saying “Memento Mori” without having to delve into Latin to express themselves.
Remember that you will die. That’s what those numbers and other vital information meant.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered, my eyes still on his. “You won’t need the tag tonight. Tonight is all about pleasure.” My mouth was already near to closing on his hardened, pink nipple before the final words had left my mouth, and one of my hands was tracing the outline and ridges of his washboard abs as I breathed deep of him. Even more intense than with his shirt on, I let his earthy spiciness fill my nose like a sommelier tasting a newly poured glass of wine. Let him and his masculinity wash over my olfactory nerves before opening my lips and closing over him.
He groaned low and deep, the bass of his guttural expression traveling through my lips and tongue to the rest of me. He had to strain, I could tell, to hold his hands down at his side as I anointed each of his nipples with my saliva and red lipstick.
But hold them down he did.
“You taste wonderful,” I said, my nails trailing down his abs to his belt buckle. “Salty and sexy, and like you’ve been waiting for so, so long to find a woman who’ll treat you right.” I glanced up to his eyes as I spoke, my fingers sliding past his buckle and finding that cock I’d been thinking of since back at the Beaver. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Longer than I’d like to admit,” he breathed, before closing his eyes as my hand slid over him. “God, that feels good.”
“No God here,” I whispered, my other hand coming up to graze his nipple. “Only your mistress.”
Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he practically shuddered.
