Atonement (Master's Protege 2) - Page 8

I eye his hard cock tented in his boxers, lean forward, and kiss the very top.

“Please,” I say on a hoarse whisper.

“God, woman. You don’t have to ask me twice.”

I sigh when the satiny-feel of his cock touches my lips. I lick the very top and suckle, making him groan. He pumps into my mouth like he’s fucking me, and I take every inch of him, every perfect fucking inch. I tease and taunt and suckle and moan, eager to please, to own this small part of him that he grants me.

“Jesus, baby. Stop.”

I shake my head from side to side. I don’t want to stop. I want him to come. I want to swallow him down and own him like he does me.

He leans down and tweaks my nipple, hard, as he breathes into my ear, “I said stop, Violet. Stop now or I’ll come in your mouth, and I want your pussy wrapped around my cock when I come.”

I moan in protest.

“Violet,” he says warningly, already eying the folded belt by his desk. With a sigh, I lay my head on his lap.

“Get up on this bed.” He may be a jealous lover, but he’s never a selfish one. I’m enjoying my place here, with my head in his lap, though, so I don’t move right away. “Now,” he orders, yanking me up and over his lap where he gives me a good hard slap.

In seconds, I’m facedown on the bed on my knees, and he’s behind me, hands on my hips and my pussy spread for him. I hold my breath until he slides into me, and I release a pent-up sigh at the fullness of him. Frissons of ecstasy explode through me when he thrusts, and a feeling of utter completion washes over me. We climax in unison, like we were made for each other.

I’m lying next to him in blissful contentment. Skin to skin, all our clothing tumbled to the floor like leaves shed for winter. I’m up on his chest and his hands are folded, resting on my lower back.

“You make a terrible pillow,” I murmur, cheek smooshed against the hardness of his body. He chuckles, but quiets when I reach for the cool metal of his dog tags. I wonder if tonight he’ll tell me. I don’t ask, just gently finger them.

“Thanks for that.”

I snort. “Yeah, it was a real sacrifice.”

He smiles, sobering. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

I only nod, afraid if I speak too soon, I’ll scare him off again. I can feel we’re on the cusp of more truth between us. He may be fearless and strong, but when it comes to personal revelations, he scares as easily as a spooked deer sometimes.

When he speaks, his voice has gentled, his tone contemplative. “I wonder if you’d have stayed with me if you’d met me when I was younger.”

“You wouldn’t have,” I say with a laugh. “I was headstrong and willful with a chip on my shoulder the size of a boulder.”

“Oh, because you’re oh-so-docile and obedient now?”

I smile. “You know what I mean. I wonder what you were like as a younger man. Smaller?”

“A bit. I’ve always been a big guy but didn’t body build until I was older.”

“More cocky?”

He chuckles. “Definitely.”

I absentmindedly run my fingers along the little curly hairs on his chest. “Your eyes would be more boyish, I imagine, and not—”

I pause. I’ve said too much. But he doesn’t let me get away with half sentences.

“Not what?”

I swallow and cringe before I go for broke. “Maybe not so… guarded.”

It’s a poor choice of a word. Guarded isn’t really what I meant. The first time I looked into his eyes, I knew he was a man who’d experienced deep, abiding pain, the type that rocks you to your core and leaves scars that never heal. He’s only hinted at things that have hurt him, but hasn’t told me much of anything. Yet.

“Maybe not,” he admits. “Would you like to know where I got these dog tags?”

My heart soars.

“Of course,” I say with forced patience, because the little girl in me’s jumping for joy and fist pumping all at the same time. I love when he lets me in, when he trusts me a little bit more. I draw in a breath, then release it slowly. “I want to know everything about you, Cain.”

He pauses a beat before he says, “And I’ll tell you everything. In time.”

I close my eyes against the sudden rush of emotion. Other women might swoon at a profession of love, and when the day comes for that between us, it will mean more than anything to me. But this… this right here, his granting of trust that so few have, is the next best thing.

“When I was stationed in France, I was trained by a guy named Court Fallow.”

Tags: Jane Henry Master's Protege Suspense
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