The moment she said the words, his gaze shadowed. She couldn’t stand that. Setting the package at his elbow, she rose on her knees, put one hand on his thigh, the other on his face. “If I have to accept you’re at fault, you have to accept I’ve completely forgiven you. I can’t regret that night, Ben. It resulted in you opening your heart to me. Because of that, I’d go through it again a hundred times.”

“No, you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let you. I’d cut off my arms first. Max would shoot me long before that.”

When he pressed his lips to her eye, her nose, then her throat, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, she lost her focus. “Stop,” she said breathlessly, laughter in her voice. “I have to give you your gift.”

“You’re my gift.”

Extricating herself from him, she snatched the package and thrust it between them. “I actually got this gift to remind you that I forgive you for that night.” Sobering, she put a hand on his chest. “Always.”

His look twisted her heart. She managed a smile. “Every time you see it, you can decide if I was worth it. Once you put it together, that is. You might need Jon’s help. There’s like a million pieces.”

She liked his intrigued look, his obvious eagerness to open a gift from her. She couldn’t wait to do Christmas with him. As he tore off the paper, Marcie couldn’t suppress her grin when he recognized it as a model kit for a Mercedes-Benz McLaren Roadster. Cocking that handsome brow at her, he tapped the contents list. “It says ‘glue gun required’. I can think of some interesting things to do with a glue gun.”

“I’ll bet.” She sat back on her heels, her hands on his knees, but Ben noticed her attention was no longer on her gift. She was in the position she’d been in that first day, climbing over his legs to retrieve his pen, then sitting up between his knees just like this. Her gaze passed with a far more blatant appraisal over his erection before those mink lashes lifted. “Something I can do for you, Mr. O’Callahan?”

“I think so.” Setting aside the model, he put his hand on her face, touching her mouth, imagining it about to be stretched by his cock, her lips swollen and glistening while her pussy worked itself into the same state, readying itself for him. “You make me come fast enough, you might just get a spanking before you go into work.”

That was the only incentive she needed. Opening his jeans, she leaned forward, her lips already parted. Ben closed his hand on her shoulder as she teased his head with her tongue, tracing the broad head all the way around, and then doing a little nip-suck maneuver on the top like an ice cream cone, teasing the slit. Jesus…

She played with him like that for a good few moments until he’d had enough of it and moved his hand to her hair, tightening there. “Take me all the way in, brat. Deep throat.”

Those sweet lips stretching, that slick, hot throat, so like her cunt, sucking him, tongue playing the throbbing veins on the underside like a damn violin. He thrust up into her mouth, and she made a noise at the stress, but it was a noise of pleasure. She liked it rough, his slave. She wanted icing on his cock, wanted to lick it off. He’d maybe give her that later, but right now he just wanted her sucking on him like this. Then he wanted to fuck her on the kitchen table, feel that wet pussy, that tight ass. Every morning for the rest of his life.

Her head was moving over him, her fingers digging into his thighs. Those pretty fingers, all that beautiful blonde hair, the delectable ass that he’d watched crawl away from him. God, it tempted him to command her to move around naked and on all fours in their home full time wearing his collar and those cuffs. In that position, he could see the pink lips of her cunt and rosebud of her ass, all of her so accessible and fuckable.

She brought both hands into it now, gripping him, sliding up, using his pre-cum to slick him up. She was devouring him, making animal noises in her throat. She knew how to give head like a pro, but it was all for him, her Master.

“Get up here.” A lifetime of fucking women’s asses, but now, he wanted her face-to-face. Wanted to be deep in her pussy, wanted to be staring into her eyes. It took her breath away, he could tell, the way he lifted her straight up off the floor, biceps flexing, to set her on his lap, make her straddle his cock. It took some angling, because of his size, but then he had her locked on, working her down that well-greased pole. Her mouth was slick from it, and he brought her to his lips, suckling and biting on it, tasting himself and her.

She moaned as he got her settled all the way on, and then he started moving. “Hang on, baby,” he muttered. “I just want to fuck you this morning. Use you hard.”

In answer to that, she coiled her arms around his shoulders. “Yeeeessss…” It drove him crazy, because she kept breathing little things like that, things that made him harder, needier, where Master and slave meant nothing, unless Master also meant slave. He was all hers. Always yours. He knew it for sure when he came, exploding inside of her like a heat missile. Not from the grip of her cunt, the press of her nipples, the slap of her ass against his legs, but from the words she whispered in his ear right before he released.

“I love you, Master. Love you…always…forever.”