Stepping into the shower, I let the hot water beat down on my form. Mmm, feels nice. And as I reach for the soap, something happens then. A flood of cum runs out between my legs, and I halt, arm poised in mid-air. Because oh god! He came in me, and I’m not on anything. No pill, no IUD, no condom. Oh god, oh god.
Slowly, my fingers run down to test the wetness between my thighs. It’s gloopy and hot still, his sperm so virile. And to tell the truth, it feels good seeping out of my pussy. Like it belongs there. Like it should happen again.
But straightening resolutely, I shake my shoulders. Mason and I have to talk. Birth control is both parties’ responsibility, and he promised me that we’d be careful. There has to be some way to work this out.
So I begin sudsing my hair, trying to work out the knots. Why is even my head tingly, my neck so achy? It’s like Mason’s wrung me out, using my body every which way. My wrists chafe from the manacles, and I examine them under the hot spray. Oh yeah, long sleeves will be in order. There’s a tell-tale ring of red right where a watchband would be, looking like rope burn.
But right now, there are more serious problems. Because the sperm starts seeping again. Oh god, oh god! It feels good and I lift my leg, letting it gush from my folds in a heavy flow. It’s so nasty and yet so right, the white rivulets trailing down my thigh. I stare, the wonderment of being a woman new and exciting, impossible to completely absorb in such a short time.
But I can’t stay here forever. So with quick fingers, the goop’s sprayed off, and I watch wide-eyed as it swirls down the drain. Jerking the spout closed, my clothes practically jump onto my limbs. Because the last thing I need is to look immature, like casual sexual experiences are new. Mason is older, more mature and successful, and it’s important to be sophisticated and blasé, a woman of the world.
“Everything alright?” Mason’s deep voice shocks me upon exit. But he doesn’t even look up from the small desk beneath the large window overlooking the city. It’s the most incredible view I’ve ever seen, and my eyes momentarily widen at the sparkling lights.
But he doesn’t notice. The billionaire’s scribbling away on a small sheet of paper as I stand there, feet planted, lost in the moment. My mind races between enjoying the present, while also looking forward to the future, and what he’ll do to me. A shiver runs down my spine. What’s next? Whips? Floggers? Something straight out of Fifty Shades of Grey?
But the alpha’s already moved on.
“So here’s this,” Mason again startles me, this time with his hand extended, a small white square fluttering between his fingers.
“Oh,” is all I can manage as I take the check, glancing at the amount. Five thousand dollars? I’ve never seen this much money in my life. And yet Mr. Channing casually handed it to me like it’s nothing.
“Would you like to stay longer? Or do you want me to call a cab for you?” he asks coolly. My heart drops, bones melting a bit.
Because of course. I’m supposed to leave after these interactions. And yet here I am, lingering, taking long showers and having pretend conversations with myself in the bathroom. Meanwhile, the billionaire’s impatiently waiting for me to get gone, money in hand. Idiotically, I stammer for words.
“Oh, right. Um, a cab, please.”
Mason nods imperceptibly.
“I’ll call downstairs then.”
And while he’s on the phone, my gaze rips around the room as I grab my purse from the counter and step into stiletto heels. They’re wobbly and impossibly high, but the extra inches give me confidence, even if it’s only fleeting.
Turning to the billionaire, I flash what I hope is a sunny smile.
“I can get downstairs by myself,” are my assured words. “No worries, I’ll show myself out.”
His eyebrows raise.
“But what kind of gentleman would I be?” he asks with a raised eyebrow before leading me to the private elevator.
We ride in silence in that small cube. I can feel those blue eyes on my form, heart fluttering uncontrollably. Should I say something? Everything’s so awkward, and it’s important to appear a suave, sophisticated socialite. So leaning casually against the wall, my eyes stare at the descending floor numbers illuminated at the top of the elevator car like nothing’s wrong.
But there’s still him.
Because the alpha takes things into his own hands then.
With a sudden move, he’s on me.
“Fuck this,” the man grunts, lips crashing down.
My back’s pushed against the wall of the elevator roughly, and then one leg is hoisted up to his waist, while his other hand grips a fistful of my hair. Our mouths collide, and his tongue slides against mine, aggressive and hot. But I love it, moaning hotly even as he presses that hard bulge against my opening.
“Oh God,” I gasp, body begging for more of him.
In two seconds, he’s squatted down, yanking my dress so fast the fabric tears. His face is close up to my pussy, that steamy breath blowing against my glistening clit.
“Mason,” comes my moan, writhing my hips as the elevator dings. “Oh Mason.”
But the billionaire’s not worried at all. His lips are soft and gentle on my swollen lips, and then he’s on his feet in seconds, pulling my dress down right before the doors hiss open. What? What happened? My face is flushed, body hot and clammy, still sizzling from the encounter. How does he do this to me?
But I manage to stroll out of the elevator like nothing’s wrong, except for my hand gripping Mason’s arm, a steadying force. And whaddya know, but there’s a group of skinny woman standing off to the side in tiny cocktail dresses, looking me up and down with poison in their eyes.
I can hear their thoughts, even if they don’t speak.
He’s with her?
Why?
She’s HUGE. He’d do better with one of us.
But my back straightens, chin lifting proudly. That’s right, ladies, this man’s with me. This devastatingly handsome, commanding and gorgeous billionaire is with me. So holding my head high, I waltz out, Mason’s broad arm around my waist.
And once we’re at the sidewalk curb, he turns my way.
“You’re mine now, Carrie,” he says quietly, the two of us in our own bubble despite the whiz of cars passing by.
“I know,” come my voice, body going soft once more. “Yes.”
And then a black car pulls up.
“Get home safe,” he rasps before pressing one last kiss against my lips, hard and deep, like an imprint. My mouth feels branded, like I’m already a part of the billionaire. “Take care,” he rumbles once more, eyes knowing.
And Mason stares until the cab pulls out of the circular driveway, big form standing with his hands in his pockets, blue eyes intense.
But once we’re out on the street, my breath comes in shallow gasps, curvy frame shaking a bit. Because did that just happen? All of it? The shock makes me fumble for the check in my purse, and I stare. Oh my god, it’s true.
Five thousand dollars.
Five thousand big ones, signed by the alpha himself.
Holy cow. Did I really just have sex for money? The thought makes me cringe, heat rushing to my cheeks. Because technically, yes, that’s what happened. But somehow it seems okay and not the dirty transaction I expected. In fact, I feel really, really good, and my body is already craving more. So what if there were mixed signs? So what if the alpha runs hot and cold, one minute expecting me to be an experienced vixen, the next devouring my innocence?
Closing my eyes, I replay the look in Mason’s eyes just before he came. The alpha was overcome with pleasure, abs hard and tight, the look in those blue eyes ravenous. My inner muscles clamp deliciously re-living the scene, and oh god, but his semen seeps out of me once more, wet and hot.
But this isn’t the place. I’m still in the cab for crying out loud, and as it pulls up to my building, a deep inhale is necessary, preparing myself for the possibility of seeing my parents. Oh god, no. Not Rhonda and Jim, not now.
Not during this special time, when all I want to do is re-live the past couple hours, savoring the billionaire’s presence.
But life rolls on, so my eyes flick open and I try to steady myself.
“How much do I owe you?” is my question. Oh good, the words came out relatively normal.
The driver turns, shaking his head.
“Mr. Channing covered it. Have a good evening,” he nods, and I blink, surprised. When did Mason pay? I didn’t even see. But I suppose it’s one of the things of being with a real man. He thinks of every detail, making sure I’m taken care of.
“Thank you. Have a good night,” I say to the driver after stuffing the check back into my purse. Sliding out of the backseat, I shake my head, still somewhat delirious, before making my way inside.
As the front door opens, Nicole blinks like an owl.
“Hey, where have you been?” she asks.
My little sister’s sitting at the kitchen table doing homework under flickering fluorescent lights. Suddenly, I’m reminded why I did all this. We shouldn’t have to struggle. My sister should be able to study without worrying that the electricity’s gonna go out because the bill hasn’t been paid in months.
So I fib a little.
“Just out,” I say, although it’s clear from my velvet dress that it’s more than my regular routine. “Just out,” I say evasively again.
Nicole opens her mouth to reply, but maybe my little sister realizes that it’s better not to ask. Because she closes it then, nodding and turning back to her books.
My heart breaks a little more. Where are my mom and dad? Why aren’t they here supervising? My sister needs comfort and care, and it hurts me to see her alone at a table, trying to do her best.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You and me stick together like always, right?”
Nicole nods her smooth blonde head slowly, pencil in hand. Taking another deep breath, I square my shoulders, about to march away when it comes.
“Thank you Carrie,” the words are so quiet that I almost miss them. “Thank you.”
My chest thuds. Because Nicole knows. She knows what I’m doing for us, and my heart breaks all over again. Somehow, this is too much. I don’t care if I have to throw myself to the wolves so that we can stay alive, but my little sister shouldn’t be exposed to depravities like this. It’s not right. I wish I could change the situation, make things better for us without doing what I’m doing, but I can’t.
So I merely nod and keep walking, steps heavy on the carpet.
Deciding it best to relax, I take a long bath, slowly lowering myself into the hot water. Even though I showered at Mason’s place, the privacy of a long, lingering bath is much needed. And running my fingers gently up my inner thigh, my thoughts drift to the billionaire again.
He was so gorgeous. Powerful. Commanding.
I was electrified in his presence, every cell coming alive.
And I want him again. I shouldn’t, but I do.
Something tells me this is wrong. Because it is. I should feel used, even taken advantage of. But there’s none of that. Those emotions don’t even play a part in my mind. Instead, all I want is more him. More hot caresses. More whispers, the feel of his breath on the nape of my neck.
I wish Mason was here.
Now.
In the bathroom, in this tub with me.
But he’s not, and slowly, I lift myself out of the water, curves dripping. Get with it! the voice in my mind scoffs. So what? You went on one date? That doesn’t mean anything.
But the words can’t dampen my bliss. And for the first time in a long while, sleep comes easy. Mr. Channing’s put me through the wringer, every muscle sore and achy, the tenderness between my legs new.
The next morning, I wait at the small breakfast counter in our kitchen until Nicole appears. My sister wipes at her eyes, yawning heavily. I almost laugh because suddenly the image of a cute five year-old dressed in footie pajamas reappears in my mind, sleepy and chubby.
“Come on,” I say merrily. “We’re going shopping!”
Her eyes blink blearily.
“What?” is her belated question. “Why?”
I stand firm.
“It’s time you wore something other than hand-me-downs,” I say, hands on my hips. “We usually dress in Goodwill, but not anymore. Today, we’re going shopping!” I beam.
My sister’s reluctant at first.
“Are you sure?” she says. “I mean, we don’t have to,” she adds hesitantly. “I don’t mind wearing the same old stuff, it’s clean and neat.”
But I’m not gonna let her say no. There’s money burning a hole in my pocket courtesy of Mason Channing, and there’s no better person to spend it on than my baby sister.
“You’re in ninth grade,” I say firmly. “You deserve better than the old men’s jacket you’ve been wearing. Come on, let’s get you a new coat at least.”
And my sister nods then. I can tell she desperately wants a different anorak. The one we picked up from Goodwill is three sizes too big and an ugly green color.
“Okay,” she mumbles this time. “But are you sure, Carrie? I don’t mind, really.”
Shaking my head, I fix her with a mock glare.
“Are you really gonna turn me down? Come on, let’s go!” are my cheery words.
We drive off to the mall in a good mood, humming and singing to the car radio.
I’m so happy to be spending time with my sister. And you know what? I want to get Nicole more than a jacket. She deserves better. So we try on a couple things together, mittens, hats, even sweaters, prancing in front of the mirrors like little girls, dancing and twirling.
But as Nicole disappears into the dressing room to try on one last thing, my phone buzzes. And looking down, I see Mason’s number. Oh god, oh god. My heart flutters, adrenaline suddenly pumping through my veins. With trembling fingers, my voice comes out a little creaky.
“Hi.”
Good, that sounded normal.
Of course, he’s not nervous at all.
“Hi, Gorgeous,” the billionaire rumbles in a deep voice that sounds shivers down my spine. And like an idiot, words pop into my mouth then.
“I was hoping you would call,” is my murmur. Oh no! My hand flies up to cover my mouth. But it’s too late. I was supposed to play it cool, but instead I’ve already blurted the truth out there for him to hear. Oh no, oh no!
Mason growls, pleased.
“Of course I’d call. I needed to check on you. Make sure everything is okay,” his voice caresses my ears.
Immediately a smile wreaths my face.
“Oh I got home fine last night,” is my chirpy tone. “Just fine, thanks.”
The billionaire chuckles again.
“Naw, not just that honey. I mean, are you sore? How are you feeling? Is that pussy tight and achy?”
Red flushes over my cheeks.
“Oh right,” is my whisper. “Yes, I’m good, thanks,” I say in a lowered voice, looking around. My heart’s thumping like mad, this conversation so illicit. “But we have to talk,” my voice comes a little louder now. “There was so much … you know.”
Mason doesn’t miss a beat.
“That’s right sweetheart,” he rumbles. “I always have a lot of semen and you got a heavy dose last night. There’ll be more coming, but I promise, we’ll use protection going forwards. Do you have a doctor’s appointment scheduled?”
I flush again. Oh my god, oh my god. Is this what men and women talk about, like real adults? My words come soft and whispered, even as my cheeks grow scarlet once more.
“I do,” I confirm. “But promise okay? Because I – I can’t get pregnant,” is my stammer. “So promise okay?”
And the big man’s voice echoes over the receiver again.
“Scout’s honor, sweetheart. And I got all the way to Eagle, so that means something,” he growls, amused.
I flush once again.
“Good,” is my whispered vo
ice, looking around the dressing room furtively. “And thank you.”
Mason laughs once more, like he knows how embarrassed I am to be discussing this. But then the alpha speaks again.
“Sweetheart, are you free Friday night?”
I pause. Of course I am. That was part of our deal, wasn’t it? That I be available to him any time, whenever he crooks his finger?
But he was just being polite. Because as soon as I say yes, the big man continues.
“Good, honey, good. I’ve got a company banquet that evening, and I want you to come.”
My mouth drops open. On the one hand, I’m ecstatic. I’d love to go with him to a function, to see and be seen on the arm of this gorgeous man. But on the other, how can this be happening? Are we supposed to go out in public together? I thought sugar daddy and sugar baby arrangements were discreet, something carried on behind closed doors.
But Mason continues, completely assured.
“Go to Saks Fifth Avenue and ask for Linda Rose. She’ll help you pick out an appropriate dress. You know what I like, sweetheart, so pick something sexy that shows off your curves.”
And a thrill rushes down my spine. It’s the first time that I’m going to shop with a man in mind, envisioning his strong fingers as they pull the fabric from my huge tits, revealing my lush ass. A tingle starts in my pussy, and reading my mind, Mason chuckles again.
“See you then, sweet thing. Looking forward.”
And with that, he’s gone.
The phone drops from my senseless fingers. My heart races so fast I think I might pass out. Because I’ve been telling myself all day that I have to play it cool with Mason. I have to act the sophisticated lady, men like him don’t want someone naïve and foolish.
But somehow, it doesn’t matter.
Everything he does sets me on fire.
And surprisingly, everything I do seems to set him on fire as well.
At that moment, Nicole steps from the dressing room.
“How do you like this?” my sister asks, spinning on the floor. It’s a cute sweater with a penguin in front, and she looks adorable in it.
“Very nice,” I nod approvingly, and she bounces happily before returning to the dressing room, only to quickly reappear with a handful of warm, woolen sweaters.
The Dom's Secret: A Light BDSM Bad Boy Romance Page 6
