Sinful Rewards 10 by Cynthia Sax

unbuckle his belt, manipulating the leather. He’s hard, the bulge in his jeans large and defined, a dab of moisture wetting the denim.
    â€œYou won’t need a bra or panties.” Hawke unzips my skirt, pushing the polyester over my hips. “Not with one of those pretty little sundresses you have in the closet, the dresses I never see you wearing.” He removes my panties as expediently as he did the rest of my clothing, leaving me completely naked. “You’ll feel sexy, free.”
    I would feel sexy and free. “I can’t wear sundresses while I’m working,” I explain. And I’m always working—cooking, cleaning, helping my mom. In the past, I held various jobs. Now, I’m building a business with Cyndi. “It’s not practical.” I drop to my knees, the tile cool against my skin, and I unlace Hawke’s boots, my subservient position exciting me. In our reality, we’re equals, partners. In my fantasy, I’m a maid at my master’s beck and call, obliged to do anything and everything he asks.
    My position must arouse Hawke also as his eyes deepen to a brilliant blue. “You’re not working at the moment.” His voice is low.
    I smile up at him, sitting with my feet tucked under my ass and my back slightly arched, the pose lifting my breasts, a silent offering to the man I desire. “I’m not wearing a sundress at the moment either.”
    â€œNo, you’re not.” Hawke stands on one foot and then the other, allowing me to remove his big black boots.
    â€œI’m not wearing anything.” I roll down his socks and place them neatly beside his boots. “I’m naked for you.”
    â€œI noticed.” He plants his feet solidly on the floor. “I see your pretty pink nipples, your white skin.” He leans over my body, his form big and broad and powerful. “The red stripe on your ass.” From his vantage point, he can survey my entire form.
    I rub my fingers up his denim-covered legs, savoring the muscles under the frayed fabric. “Are you watching me?” I stroke the ridge in his jeans, up and down, up and down. This man is mine, his arousal belonging to me.
    â€œI’m always watching you.” Hawke pushes his hips toward me, shamelessly demanding more. “And I plan to wash every inch of you, with my hands, my lips, my tongue.”
    â€œI’m a very dirty girl.” I pop the buttons of his fly one at a time, freeing him. “It might take a while.”
    I tug down on his jeans, and the denim falls to the floor, revealing his proudly erect cock. My tattooed bad boy isn’t shy, his take-me-as-I-am stance moistening my mouth. I want to wrap my lips around him and suck him dry.
    â€œI’ll take my time, sweetheart,” he drawls, his dark gaze fixed on my face. “Clean you right.”
    â€œAnd if I don’t want you to take your time?” I trace his shaft with my fingertip, from his base to his tip, and he bobs, gratifyingly responsive to my touch. “If I want it hard and fast?”
    â€œI’ll give you hard and fast.” Hawke bends, picks me up, hefting me over his shoulder. I gasp as my stomach connects with solid muscle and he slaps my ass, heating my skin.
    We enter the shower stall in two strides. Hawke turns the water on and cold spray soaks my hair, plastering the tendrils against my skin.
    â€œIt’s freezing.” I smack his back with my palms.
    â€œYou wanted fast.” He chuckles, lowering me until my feet touch the floor. “The water takes time to warm up.”
    He looms over me, my mountain of a man forming a protective overhang, his massive form shielding my body from the shower. Drops glisten on his closely cropped brown hair. Rivulets run down his chest, darkening the ink on the tattooed wings stretched across his collarbone.
    â€œI warm up instantly.” My voice is husky. “When I’m with