Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(69)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

All right. She’d chosen the time and place, although he’d really have preferred to do this when he was buried deep inside her. “I’ve been thinking. About us. I want to move things up a notch.” He grinned. “Let’s go to a .44 magnum.”

Her head jerked back slightly, and her brows rose.

He traced a finger over the arch of one elegantly curved eyebrow, so different from his bushy straight lines.

With an exasperated huff, she pulled his hand down and frowned at him. “A .44 magnum. You want us to be exclusive.”

“Yeah.”

“I take slaves, Benjamin. Not lovers.”

Why did he see worry and the beginning of grief in her eyes? She started to push back.

His grip clamped on her ass. “I think you care for me, and I very much care for you. So yes, a .44. You’re not seeing anyone else, and neither am I. That’s exclusive. And I’ll be your slave.”

“You want to be my slave?” Anne studied his face as if it would reveal the future rather than just his desire. “I’m not sure that would be wise. What does being a slave mean to you?”

“Means I do what you say, try to please you—in bed and out.”

“Guard dog,” she said softly. “I’m a strict Mistress. Not an easy one. I prefer high protocol—no touching or speaking or sitting without permission. I’ll give you chores, ask you to take on duties you might not appreciate.”

“I’ve seen you with your slaves.”

She shook her head. “Are you sure, Ben? You’re new to the lifestyle. I think you’re rushing things.”

That phone call said there was a need for hurry.

The thought of losing her was intolerable. What would he do, how much of himself would he sacrifice to keep her by his side? To hear her laughter, to feel her hands on his face, to wake with her in his arms. “I’m sure. I’m not rushing things.”

She frowned. “There’s a difference between a submissive and a slave. I think the best explanation is that a submissive resembles an employee, whereas a slave is closer to a private in the Marines. A lot of choices are taken away.”

He’d been in the service; nothing new there.

“I don’t live with my slaves—but they’re available to me when I want them.”

They? Now that was a hard line for him, and this was the time to make that clear. “I want exclusive.”

When she nodded, he went further. “My work is separate. And you don’t get control over the time that we’re not together.” He pulled in a lungful of air and committed himself. “Everything else is yours. Yes, Ma’am, this is what I want.”

He could see the growing warmth in her eyes, could feel her respect and pleasure. Her chin came up, shoulders straightening as she accepted responsibility for him. He knew the feeling—the same one he’d had when a teammate trusted him to take his back.

Knowing he could give her that joy silenced the doubts in his mind.

Anne lay in her bed, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, stroking the crisp hair. His breathing had slowed as sleep caught up to him. His scent mingled with the musky fragrance of sex and the faint clean fragrance of her sheets.

Contentment enfolded her as closely as his arm behind her back nestled her into his side. The sex had been…more than just sex this time. A new element had been added.

She rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. This was why people called it making love.

She’d always cherished the bond between her and her slaves, one made up of affection and concern. It was love, in a way, but the kind of love she held for family.

What she had with Ben was different. And her weapon-based ranking scale was proving to be surprisingly accurate.

She’d called a first date equivalent to a .22. She’d learned to shoot on a sweet little .22 revolver. Easy to handle. Safe with no kickback or surprises. Nicely precise. It had planted small, sedate holes in the target.

But today, this was serious stuff, moving toward…love, and truly felt like firing an S&W .44 in a darkened shooting range. “I think you care for me, and I very much care for you. So yes, a .44. You’re not seeing anyone else, and neither am I. That’s exclusive. And I’ll be your slave.” The blast of his words had left her ears ringing, eyes blinking against the flame from the muzzle. The shell had ripped appalling holes in what her life had been.

Was she ready for this?

No. No, she really wasn’t.

But right here in his arms was where she’d ended up, even though she’d fought every step of the way. Sneaky submissive. But she wouldn’t change a thing about the journey.