Free Mistress's Master: Men in Blue, Book 3 by Jayne Rylon Page B

to her for guidance.
    “Whenever you’re ready. All of you.” She struggled to appear calm when their surrender to her wishes set her ablaze. “Make sure you come on Ryan. I want to see your pleasure spilling over him.”
    As though they found the idea as appealing as she did, the men lost all reserve. One by one they tipped their heads back and roared. The first man to surrender to orgasm shuffled closer, as tight as he could get to the table. His partner aimed the purple head of his cock at Ryan, who looked like a very unvirginal human sacrifice.
    Come dribbled from the tip of his cock. The meager display disappointed her insatiable libido a tiny bit. Until she realized it was just the warm up. Blast after blast of thick white come shot from his cock, coating Ryan’s defined abs and Ben’s pumping fist.
    His pleasure unlocked the rest. All of the men erupted in near unison. Ben’s motion turned jerky as he emptied his load across Ryan’s chest. The pearly white fluid meandered down the man’s abdomen. When it pooled near his belly button, mingling with the fluid from the other slaves, Ryan froze in her hold, locked in an endless orgasm.
    She came with him, grinding her pussy against his taut muscles as the final spurt of his come launched from his cock. He came so hard and so long she feared he might have a heart attack. At least she would have worried if he hadn’t been the picture of physical fitness.
    Possessing the power to do this to such strong, vibrant creatures filled her with satisfaction. Nothing could please her more than bestowing ecstasy.
    Lily allowed them all to soak in the positive energy zinging around the room for a minute or two. Then she nodded to one of the men leaning heavily on locked arms against the massage table. “When you’re steady, grab one of the towels from the pile by the sink and clean Ryan off.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Ryan groaned as his buddy swiped come from the ridges of his abdomen with hasty strokes.
    “In a hurry?” Lily raised an eyebrow at the man, noting the sweat beading on his forehead.
    “There’s a lot to do and not much time, Mistress.” He forced himself to slow, but she noted the tension creeping into the slaves she’d managed to relax so recently. All of them averted their gazes.
    Morselli had a lot to answer to. Their nervousness outraged her.
    “Let me worry about our punctuality. I’m the one responsible for any delays caused by our impromptu session, not you. It will be no reflection on your service—unless it is an exceptionally positive one—that you pleased me enough to linger. I assure you, I’ll see to that.”
    The halfhearted acknowledgement of her statement burned in her stomach as though she’d eaten pepperoni pizza too close to bedtime. It would take more than a single assurance to rewire beliefs honed by mistreatment.
    She sighed. “We’ll keep moving. I need to wash the massage oil out of my hair before I can put on makeup and get dressed. I’m a simple woman when it comes to those things so we should have plenty of time.”
    Ryan carried her as though she were a priceless vase when she waved her hand toward the sink in the corner of the room. He situated her in the reclining chair before moving aside so one of the other men could fulfill his duties.
    “Can any of you paint my nails without making me look like a serial killer who works with her bare hands?” She didn’t expect them to own up to such a skill.
    “I can.” Ben blushed when the rest of the slaves turned to stare. “I practically raised my little sister. And my niece. Julie’s seven. She gets a kick out of the glittery kind.”
    Lily wished they were alone, somewhere private, so she could dig into the root cause of the lines etching his face and release some of his stress. She admired the strength it must have taken him to step into a leadership role so young. Hell, he couldn’t be more than twenty-five now.
    What would it have been like to have a protector?