Smut Showcases the Soul!: Don't Do Anything. Watch Me Touch.

Plunder Novella –

Solo Mission:

Part Two

Read Part One Here
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She shook her head and smiled. You are so whipped.

Hey, Kat’s upstairs, happy and exhausted, and I’m here now. Put me to work before I tell Hayato to enact his own curfew.

Max laughed. Whatever. He’s prepping for mediation tomorrow. Maybe you and Kat don’t, Mr. Big Bad Dom, but we know who really holds the handle in this relationship. And Max Wells, plundress of the galaxy, was never whipped.

Metaphorically, anyway.

She sat up straighter. Newly flush with loot, she began to fill in Peter about the mission and what she needed him to do to complete it.

They were about half-way through the mission—stealing private sector stores of food, medicine, and weapons that were being diverted from poorer, rural outposts to an overly opulent government delegate meeting—when she saw the message.

All it said was From Sir right above a counter ticking down the seconds. Fifteen minutes. He was giving her fifteen minutes.

She smirked at the cheeky tactic. So Sir was feeling bossy, huh? She couldn’t tell yet if that made her feel rebellious or like rewarding his assertiveness with compliance.

She snickered and shook her head. Sir.

It was their running joke-that-was-not-quite-a-joke. A titular nickname that held only the meaning they gave it from moment to moment. That granted him all the power and control she decided to give him.

She knew there were people who gave the title more formality—more significance and weight—just as she knew there were people who scoffed at or looked down at or were even offended by it, but it worked for them. In their own way, it fit the roles they inhabited. That they lived and loved by.

It signified that he was special to her—the only man she’d ever allow to get bossy with her and only because he knew how to make it worth her while. Which, in turn, strangely made her feel special too.

Which, of course, didn’t mean that she couldn’t make him work for it.

Fifteen minutes, huh? Cockily, she sent back a message. Until what exactly?

The only response that came back was a new counter. With three minutes shaved off of the original time.

Well, then, aye, aye, sir. Message received.

Looks like she had her own dwindling curfew to worry about.

A part of her—the contrary, rebellious part—wanted to scoff at the restriction. She was a fully grown adult; no one told her when bedtime was. Much less some guy looking to get laid.

Except…well, getting laid sounded pretty good. They hadn’t had sex in a while and, now that she’d thought about it—realized how long it’d really been—she missed it. Wanted it.

But she still had her mission.

Max bit her lip and looked back at her game. Frowning thoughtfully, she shrugged. She could finish her mission in that time, she was sure of it.

It’d taken some creative manipulation of resources and players, but she and Peter had all but cleaned out the sector’s supplies and were dropping them off at the outpost—for a healthy cut of the booty—just as the counter’s timer went off.

Hecks yeah.

Feeling like an intergalactic boss, she collected her share of the raid and saved her game. After shutting down her game, she headed to bed. It was time to collect her reward for a raid well done.

She tilted her head when she saw that the bedroom door was closed. They never closed doors. They’d both lived alone too long and were too comfortable with each other’s bodies to get in the habit of closing doors. So a shut bedroom door confused her.

With him, everything held meaning. Every tone and word and action could speak volumes. It just wasn’t always clear what was being said.

She turned the knob.

The room was dim with just the far bedside lamp lit. She blinked in the doorway when she saw him. Lying in the middle of the bed. Naked. With his hand on his cock. His eyes—a natural dark brown with his usually blue-colored contacts out for the night—were almost completely closed and his head was tossed back on the pillows. Fair strands fell stray and loose from the top bun twisted at the crown of his head. His luxuriously golden skin looked lustrous in the lamplight.

Well, hello, sir.

He was so gorgeous. Unlike anyone she’d ever met or would ever meet in her life. It was like unwrapping a gift or discovering hidden treasure. Her eyes widened while she watched his hand move up and down his hard shaft.

“You like to look.”

Max glanced up. He turned to lean on his side, so he faced her. Studied her really.

She nodded thoughtfully even as her gaze slipped south to his hard length jutting upward against his taut middle. She swallowed hard. It was a good show. “I’d like to join.” She moved to strip off her old college t-shirt and walk toward the bed.

He held up his hand to stop her. Reflexively, she did, curious to see what game he was playing. “Take off just the shirt,” he said, his gaze narrowing on the comfortably stretched-out, worn-thin cotton covering her breasts, “then take a seat at the end of the bed.”

She quirked her eyebrow at the small patch of duvet he pointed to at the opposite end of the bed. Okay. Weird, but all right. She tugged the sleep shirt over her head and draped it over the back of a chair. “Okay, now what?”

He sat up a bit, so he could lean back against the headboard. “Now watch.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just watch?”

He grabbed his sex in his hand. “If you’d wanted to do more, you’d have made it to bed on-time.”

She checked her phone. “I couldn’t have been more than three minutes late.”

“Late,” he pointed out, “being the operative word.” He tsked and settled back in the comforter. “I sent you a clock and everything.”

“So I can only watch?” She shook her head. What kind of game was he playing?

He lifted a shoulder casually, but she could see his eyes fire as he gripped his dick again. “You could always give me something to look at too.”

She grinned and rolled her eyes. Give a lawyer a loophole… How typical!

Fine.

She couldn’t touch him; that didn’t mean she couldn’t get him to touch her.

With that thought in mind, her smile widened and she got comfortable. “You want to look too, huh?” She cupped her breasts, heavy and full, in her hands.

Then look. Sir.

She brushed her thumbs over her nipples, feeling the rosy tips tighten. She sucked in a breath and did it again, the touch burning within her. She squeezed one full breast in her hand while she continued to tease and stroke her other peak.

“Pinch your nipple.”

She smiled. He loved to watch her pink flesh flush a deep, dusky rouge with sensual abuse. She saw his grip tense when she moaned and writhed a bit on the blankets.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded breathy and hot. “You like that, don’t you?”

She nodded and squeezed harder. “I see you do too.”

“I do.” His face flushed hot in the low light. “Twist.”

Her breath hitched and she felt her breasts shake with the harsh jerk. She felt the sensitive skin of her nipple stretch and the blood rush beneath her finger’s pinch. Her eyes fluttered shut as sensation shot through her. She breathed through it before massaging her tender flesh in sweet, soothing motions.

“Are you wet?”

She tilted her head and looked at him. “Do you want me to see?”

“Yes.” The word was a hiss.

Fine. She tucked a hand down beneath the waistband of the pajama bottoms she was wearing. She slid her hand down to stroke the soft, swollen folds between her legs. “Mmmm.” She continued to rub along her labia. “Very.”

“Let me see.”

She grinned and tsked. “What do I get out of it?” She began to play with her nipple again.

“I’m letting you see mine;” he said, letting his hand lingeringly play along his hard length, “only fair I get to see yours.”

She almost laughed aloud. “If you’d really wanted more, sir” she said, echoing his earlier words while she spread her legs more, offering him a better view of her cotton-blocked tease, “you’d have asked me to take off my pants.”

He chuckled, the sound low and luring. “Fair enough.” He shifted to sit up a bit more. “Then, if you won’t let me see, tell me. Describe it.”

She sent him an amused look. He wanted her to dirty talk about touching herself? She pursed her lips and thought about it. Okay, she could do that. “My sex is so slick I can feel it drip warm and thick over my skin.”

“Are you getting the bed wet?” His hand began to move faster.

“Yes.” She could feel her arousal soak through her pants; it must be drenching the covers.

“What else?”

She coated her finger with her heat and began to stroke her sex. “I can feel my clit, hard and needy against my fingertip.” She panted, the words broken by her breath. “I can feel each touch like a lick of fire, starting in my belly and spreading all over.”

“More.”

She looked up and met his gaze, the dark brown of his eyes feeling almost like a stranger’s after more than a year of his usual contact-colored blue. It made her feel keenly watched. Exposed. Naked. “I can see you watching me. Can feel your eyes on my body like a touch.”

“Does it make you hot?”

It shouldn’t. Not when it felt so unfamiliar. “Yes.” Because, as strange as it may feel, here with her Sir, it also felt safe. Riding an edge that, with him, she knew well. “Yes.”

“Does looking at me make you hot?”

Always. She bit her lip and nodded, not trusting the words to feel right on her lips. She wanted to touch him. Wanted him to touch her. She wanted to take him and be taken. Staring into the need in his dark, deep, walnut-colored eyes, she needed him. She nodded, feeling her teeth ravage her silent mouth.

“Say it.”

She shook her head and pursed her lips tight.

“Tell me.”

She shut her eyes and bent her knees. Her feet flexed hard against the pleasure threatening to overtake her, even as her hands continued to play hurried havoc over her body.

“Max.” His voice, so musical and almost pretty, reached inside her and tugged at her will. “Look at me.”

She shook her head again.

“Look at me and I’ll let you have an extra half hour of Plunder tomorrow.”

She shouldn’t have, but she laughed and opened her eyes.

Yep, she really shouldn’t have.

She felt her control slip, the second she saw him. Beautifully tense, every muscle in his lean body pulled taut. Arousal flushed skin now slick with a sheen of sweat. And his cock thrust, insistent and hard, in his hand, now held in a tight fist. He was on that same edge with her. And about to fall off.

Fuck.

She felt her body peak on a sharp breath, everything within her seeming to lurch as pleasure tore through her. Her head fell back and she moaned, her back arching and her mind going blank even while her hands kept on in adoring torment.

She heard his echoing groan, a shuttering sound, and felt the bed rock beneath her as he writhed.

She smiled. Maybe there was something to this curfew thing. Cause that was definitely worth getting into bed for.

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