Willing Sacrifice (Knights of the Board Room) (24 page)

He saw the change in her expression, the thing that told him he’d knocked on a door she hadn’t expected him to find. Whether she’d open it or not was up to her. But he’d told her he knew that door was there.

It was time to ease back, turn his attention to the test she’d given him. Just like BUD/S, he expected he had to pass it to proceed to the next evolution, God help him. If she’d somehow gotten her hands on the whole BUD/S training manual, she’d be putting him through her version of interrogation torture and live fire combat training next.

Rising, he toed off his shoes, pushed the jeans and boxers off, got rid of the socks. He was already erect, no help for that with a beautiful naked woman so close, but her reassurance about his size made him feel pretty good on that score. His typical male reaction to that would probably make her laugh, but he didn’t tell her right now. Their conversation had woven a sexual tension between them, given her a pensive look his intuition told him not to disrupt. He wanted to keep her focused on the humming needs of her own body, the obvious visible desires of his.

Janet broke the seal on the bottle, took a sip of water as she watched him. His analysis of her as a Domme was on the mark, though she herself couldn’t have said she was seeking something like him until he showed up on her radar. Her gaze coursed over the exceptional musculature of his upper body, the jutting power of his cock. The heated water swirling over her skin was just an extension of the arousal between her legs.

“Three times,” she reminded him softly.

He stepped over the wall. The water came to his waist, because she’d let the pool fill to its maximum height. The spa had three levels of benches built into the side, and she was on the most elevated one. He should be able to get down on his knees below the water line, reach her with his mouth by bending to an approximate forty-five-degree angle. She’d given it a lot of thought.

Putting the bottle of water aside, she settled herself, sliding her arms along the ledge of the hot tub, curving her fingers into the handholds provided for entering and exiting the pool. They were also designed for tying a man’s wrists to them. Though she’d never brought a man here, she was a woman who planned for future contingencies.

He dropped to his knees, an act that never failed to elevate her heart rate. In the water, it was a drifting motion, an anchor settling. It was clear this was a familiar element for him.

“Do you swim to keep in shape?” she asked, thinking about her earlier thoughts of keeping up with his workout by boat.

“When the water’s warm.” Humor creased the lines around his eyes. “You spend so much time in freezing temperatures, both in training and on missions, you never go into cold water unless it’s a mandate. Fair warning—if the power goes out during a hurricane, I won’t take a shower until I can get a hot one. I’ll smell like a junkyard dog first.”

“I’ll make a note to chain you out in the backyard, something I’d only do to a man, not a dog.”

He chuckled at that, then his gaze intensified. “Spread your legs for me, Mistress.”

It was a clever combination, serving her will and yet issuing it like a command, the challenge unmistakable. She tilted her head. “I expect you to give me a good reason to open them, sailor.”

His eyes sparked in answer, and then he sank below the surface. His fingers slid over her thighs, and then his mouth was on her knees, tongue tracing the seam, up, up, up… She could be a steel bitch when needed, but she wasn’t going to make the task impossible. Plus his tongue felt so good, sliding along with the swirl of warm water he stirred. She let her legs part. His hands slipped beneath her knees, caressing the backs before he hooked his fingers under her thighs. Janet’s head fell back on the ledge, her breasts rising to the cool touch of the air as his mouth found her pussy, the silk of his hair brushing her upper thighs. He teased her labia, tongue dipping inside her for a long, strong lick of her channel, gathering her cream. He dragged his tongue up to her clit, the pressure sending arrows of sensation shooting all along the insides of her thighs, her lower abdomen.

The water made everything soft, pliant, aiding his intent, but the man had obvious skill in this area. Lucas, the K&A CFO, was reputed to have legendary oral skills, and Janet had heard enough to know he’d coached the other four men, such that all their wives gained the benefit. Now she wondered if he was conducting classes for the rest of the K&A male personnel. She couldn’t think of a better use for company time.

Of course, with Max, she expected he simply excelled at everything he undertook. Or practiced it religiously until he did. She gripped the handles harder, her heels resting on his upper back, her legs on his shoulders as his head worked between her thighs. With her eyes closed, her mind lost in blissful sensation, she imagined his tongue replaced by his cock, the water sloshing over the edges as he drove into her. He wouldn’t have to wear a condom tonight. He’d brought test results, presented them in a matter-of-fact way, but with a direct look full of erotic potential.

He suckled her clit, plunged his tongue into her cunt again, rotating it around, then stroked the top of the vaginal channel, coming back out to the clit again. She groaned at the stimulation, a needy female response, and his fingers tightened on her legs, as if he’d registered the vibration through the water.

How long had he been under there? How long could the man hold his breath while swimming underwater? Or when doing something perhaps less physically exerting but requiring even more mental concentration? His large hands gripped her thighs, thumbs pressed on the inside, keeping her open for him. His shoulders held her up, so she was floating free beneath the water, only her handholds above the surface keeping her in place. The buoyancy was an amazing feeling as her body undulated in response to his stimulation.

“Max…” She let herself say his name while he was under water. “Max. Oh…” A guttural sound wrenched from her throat as he did something else, a pinch to her clit, then his tongue worked all around it, pushing against it, making it throb. Then he was pulling back from her, his hands sliding along her legs, a reluctant withdrawal. It added to her arousal, his obvious wish to stay where he was, no matter the needs of his lungs.

He surfaced right in front of her breasts, his aroused attention covering both before she let go of one handhold to grip his nape, cover his mouth with her own. She captured his exhalation, taking his breath into her body and giving him back the same, her lips teasing, her tongue tangling with his. When he lifted his head, it was to brush a kiss on the top of her breast, draw several breaths, then he submerged again, leaving her bemused and wanting more of his nearness.

He took up right where he left off, and she was impressed by his lack of apparent urgency. He was accomplishing a mission, but it was the type of mission that couldn’t be achieved by racing a clock, no matter the critical time factor involved. She lost herself in it, the only thing grounding her to reality being an awareness of how her ankles rested on his lower back. She made sure they were loose enough he could easily get free of her if he needed to surface. Otherwise she had no concerns, immersed in those lovely whirlpools of feeling he had swirling up from her core.

The heat of the water bubbled against her skin, his body pressed up between her thighs. She dropped her head back to the concrete again and drops of water rolled into her mouth. She wanted to wrap her lips around his cock, suck and suck and suck until it convulsed and gave her his seed. But she wanted his seed in her body. She could have both, could have it all. A man who could do this would be more than capable of serving her several different ways in the same night. Three condoms that first time, right?

She was gasping, working herself in rhythm against his mouth, those spirals getting tighter, closer. His fingers dug into her, shoulders pushing her up so he could change his angle. As he did that, he broke the water’s surface for only the key moment to draw a breath, so quick she nearly missed it, her eyes opening briefly to register his second breath before she was lost in hazy arousal once again.

“Oh God…” she breathed. “Oooohhh…fuck.” She wasn’t one to curse, but she wasn’t sure it was a curse, more like a need to say the word that she desired to do with him, her deepest need at the moment. To fuck and be fucked, by this man. It wasn’t an ugly word, not when spoken like this. It was the word that fit the primitive needs of her body, mind and soul, her heart pounding like a crescendo of tribal drums.

That intense ripple, the precursor to a dense wave, caused her pussy to clench, her hips to thrust up. As the feeling spread out, his mouth worked her with the steady constancy she usually associated with a vibrator, only this had the added benefit of being flesh and blood, an insistent, demanding male, wanting to give her pleasure even as he took the triumph of pulling it from her, a delicious mix. She thrashed like a caught mermaid in his grip. Her screams vibrated against the wall, the water, such that she could feel the reverberation against her flesh, and knew he could as well.

She had chimes hung from the ceiling, ones that had been making their bell noises from the light breeze stirred by the rainfall. That music joined the flashing lights in her vision, the smell of the rain, the heated water, the dampness of her own skin, to carry her spinning on a sensory experience unlike any other she’d had. It was lovely, intense, mind-numbing, and she wanted it to go on forever.

His hands spasmed on her body, and she had a sudden awareness of other issues. Pulling herself back to reality was a struggle, but she managed it, letting go of both handholds to take a full seat on the underwater bench and catch his shoulders, tugging on him urgently.

He surfaced with a large breath, chest heaving, eyes closed. She realized he’d likely needed his third breath when she began to orgasm. He’d chosen not to break her moment, letting her ride it to the end. Until she brought him up.

She guided him to the bench next to her, shifting in the water so she was resting on his knee. As she pushed his hair back from his face, it reassured her that his arm went around her waist, holding her there, fingers closing over her hip. Despite his being out of breath, the look he gave her when his eyes opened won a smile from her.

“Three breaths, Mistress.”

“Actually,” she said, trying to sound cool and unaffected, “I meant you could surface three times before you finished the job. Not that your third time had to be at the very end.”

He blinked at her, then gave a half chuckle. “Well, my instructors said that nothing fucks you up like not following direction. On the other hand, that means I exceeded expectations.”

“Hooyah,” she responded, and he laughed outright, though he started coughing. She slipped an arm around his back and rubbed, moving more fully on to his lap. As she did, she realized her nearly drowning him hadn’t diminished his own lust at all. His cock was a substantial weight against her leg. Her pussy, still caught in delicious aftershocks, contracted in reaction once more. She wanted to straddle him then and there, let him spend himself as his reward for a job well done, but an out-of-breath man having a climax in hot water was a sure recipe for unconsciousness. Since he was easily two hundred pounds of heavy muscle, there was no way she could drag him out if needed. “Safety first” could be a pain in the ass.

Smiling a little at the thought, she kept stroking his hair away from his face. When he decided to put his head down on her breasts, she allowed it, closing her eyes as he began to nuzzle her with his lips, his hand coming up to cup the left curve, stroke.

She rested her temple against his crown, letting the languorous aftermath of her climax take her over. “What kind of date were you going to suggest?” she asked. “When you were thinking about breaking protocol.”

“Camping.”

She lifted her head, blinked at him. “You want to take me camping, where there’s no indoor plumbing, no place to plug in my hair dryer, no mirror or light for my makeup?”

“You’ll have to rely on me to tell you you’re beautiful.” He settled back farther into his seat, holding her even more firmly. Catching a tendril of her hair, he let it slide between thumb and forefinger, then released it to spring back into a damp curl. His gray eyes passed along her throat, down her breasts, to the rest of her beneath the water. “Easy enough.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “If I ever agree to do such an unlikely thing, I’ll demand quid pro quo. You’ll have to do something you’re not entirely sure you want to do.”

When he didn’t immediately agree, she raised a brow. “A Navy SEAL is worried about what one woman can inflict upon him?”

“Absolutely. We abhor situations without proper intelligence.”

Shaking her head at him, she leaned in, curling her fingers in his hair to hold him still as she put her mouth on his throat. She nipped at the pulsing artery, tracing his windpipe with her tongue. His hands closed over her back, her thigh, tugging her forward in an obvious desire to have her straddle him. It matched her own desire, and even though she knew they wouldn’t finish here, she moved over him, locking gazes as he positioned himself at her opening, fingers digging into her as he slowly slid her onto his length. She was tight, tissues slick and yet also sensitive from the climax, but he moved slow, working into her, cupping the side of her neck as she gripped his shoulders, letting out a murmur as he pushed into her.

“Fuck, you’re heaven,” he said with reverence.