by Joey W. Hill
Page 60
Hands moved up the curve of her waist and cupped her breasts, fingers stroking but not going as far as the nipples. It made them ache for contact. Her spiraling desire was being stoked higher and hotter by this teasing, circling the most intimate areas. That heated need drove away fear, but there was more to this.
You are clever even amidst your desire, habiba . They act upon my command, and will only touch those areas when I allow it.
The needy flesh between her legs contracted, her lips parting in a gasp. She was turned again, her brief peek showing she was in the arms of a handsome Latino with dark curling hair, whose eyes burned with passion.
“Cesar,” Niall murmured, a hot breath passing near her ear.
Cesar gripped her with far more strength than the others. But by then she was ready for it, needy. When he rubbed his cock, tightly bound in his trousers, against her ass, she gasped and clung to the arm he’d slid across her chest. He clasped her upper arm to hold her there as he undulated his hips, teased the cleft of her buttocks with the impressive evidence of his arousal. Digging his fingers into her hair, under the lacings of the mask, he pulled her head back on his shoulder so her breasts jutted out beneath the bar of his arm. Niall knelt before her then, pulling the low neckline to the left so the one curve was exposed. His mouth settled on the ripe flesh, his tongue curling down into the fabric, almost brushing the nipple at last.
She cried out. Though it was lost in the club music and noise, their circle had attracted attention, and she knew her pleasure was being witnessed by a wider audience. Unlike the bloody gladiator she’d been with Raithe, now she felt like a virgin being willingly sacrificed to kick off a sensuous bacchanal. The idea that her desire might be driving other scenarios playing out around them—like Amara and Enrique’s dance—made her shudder harder.
Her feet were no longer on the floor. Niall had risen and shifted to the left, though he kept his mouth on her breast. Lars had returned to take his place, kneeling to lift her legs onto his shoulders. Her heels slid down his back while Cesar continued to hold her upper body firmly. Lars kissed his way up the insides of her thighs, even as he reached up and gave Niall’s cock, captured in the snug jeans over his head, a playful squeeze that had Niall uttering a growl against her flesh.
If she was suffering any trepidation, seeing the relaxed expression of their lust, their urgent enjoyment not a violent urgency, would have helped quell it. But after Mason’s possession of her at the cage door, cut woefully short, followed by this, her mind was no longer hampering her. Mason had said he was here, watching, making sure she would be safe, controlling her pleasure.
Then thought disappeared as Lars at last spread her legs wider and put his mouth directly in between them. He had a tongue piercing, a barbell that vibrated, and he knew how to use it with a devil’s skill against a woman’s clit, and to tease her labia.
Sensations crashed over her. She began to squirm against Cesar’s hold.
“That’s the way,” Niall whispered, moving back to her ear. He took over from the Latino male, sliding in behind her, replacing his mouth at her breasts with his hands. Cleverly teasing the nipples, he gripped and squeezed them for the first time, causing her to whimper at the shock of sensation. “The masked beauties are always the most uninhibited ones, their pussies so sweet and wet . . . ” Mason . . .
If you wish to come, habiba , you must ask first.
And if I don’t? She was surprised she had the coherence for rebellion. But when the sensual threat in his mind-voice sent a ripple through her that almost pushed her over by itself, she knew it wasn’t the desire for rebellion that made her challenge him.
I will punish you. When I take you home, I will arouse you to three times the intensity you are aroused now, yet chain you to my bed so you cannot touch yourself. I will let you suffer the night that way. Then, right before dawn, I will come to you, ease my cock into you, make you mine. If you beg.
Was it like Raithe, or was it not? All she knew was that she was pure need, and need had migrated to a pulsing emotional ache in her chest which demanded a release as much as—if not more than—the release she needed between her legs.
What if I want you now? Not them.
Are you willing to have your pleasure now, or later?
Can I have . . . both?
His laughter in her mind had its own power, and as Lars cleverly stroked the vibrating ball over her clit, she screamed. Mason . . . I can’t . . .
Lars withdrew so abruptly, she wondered if Niall had yanked him away like a dog on a leash. She blinked, disoriented. The men were melting back into the crowd as a new dance tune started, the DJ having been astute enough to keep the ballads going until their impromptu floor show completed. Her knees were shaking, but Niall smoothly picked her up in his arms. Shouldering his way through the crowd, he left her attractive attendants behind as he made his way up to that second level where Mason waited.
She had a fleeting impression of Evan, emerald eyes and dark, closely cropped hair, a lean, tensile strength, his intrigued glance. But all she wanted was Mason. She was going to go insane, rend flesh like a rabid animal in about two seconds.
When Niall put her on her feet before Mason, she was still unsteady, so he stayed behind her, his chest a bulwark against her taut shoulder blades. Mason, his mind silent but gaze overpowering, took her hand. With an effortless movement, he pulled her away from Niall and lifted her to straddle his lap. He cradled her face as he adjusted her, his fingers brushing his collar on her throat. The touch of the crystal pendant was a featherlike movement against her cleavage, teasing that valley. With precision, Mason aligned her needy core against his cock, hard and straining beneath the soft fabric of his slacks.
“Ah . . . ” Her breath clogged in her throat. When she would have touched him, Niall had both of her wrists, drawing them out and then back behind her, a human restraint that displayed her to her vampire Master, arching her back and throat to him while Niall stood behind her like a prison guard.
Mason.
When he gave a slight nod to Niall, the soft padding of a Velcro strap wrapped around both her wrists, holding her arms as Mason watched her face closely, delving into her confused, lust-starved mind, she was sure.
What . . . are you doing to me?
Showing you how it should have been for you, habiba . How strong and amazing your desire is, so much so I am having difficulty not fucking you even now. But there is sweet pleasure in making a slave wait, in driving up her desire like this.
Niall returned to his Master’s side then. Through glazed eyes, Jessica watched Evan fondle his tightly packaged cock, a tacit approval of his actions, before he brought him down for a long, demanding kiss that had Niall gripping his Master’s shoulder. Then Evan bade him kneel at his side, teasing his hair like a favored pet.
Those were vague impressions, for all she knew was Mason. Balancing her on his lap, a steadying hand at her hip, he’d picked up his drink again. After he took a swallow, he removed a cherry from the glass and extended it to her lips. Greedy for the taste of his flesh, she nipped him hard as she took it, her muscles contracting on him. She wanted to rub, and he gave her that gift.
Bring yourself to climax against me, my love. Leave my clothes damp and my cock aching for you.
She was already twitching against him, an involuntary movement that could have made her come by itself. But now she began to undulate in earnest. She had enough brain cells left that she used the hip movements Amara had taught her, because she wanted to please him, this man who was more Arab sultan than British officer, a prince of his realm. She remembered the first time she’d watched Amara dance for him, enticing him. The dance was a message of desire, of need; an offering.
She had good musculature on her thighs and abdomen and could control her balance, but desire made her dizzy. She knew he wouldn’t let her fall. He simply watched her, with an expectant stillness
that only drove her desire higher, giving her little time to seduce him further. Her response shot up to a crescendo, her body shuddering.
Come now for me, habiba . Give me your cream.
She cried out, arching back into the strength of his hands, which slipped to her lower back, cradling those scars, the tiger she’d purposefully etched into them. The climax raced through her blood, firing it. From that night with Amara and Enrique, she knew that was when he most liked to bite, when that potent heat was surging, life force at its highest and yet closest to death point. But since their human surroundings prohibited that, the focus was on her performance for him, at his command, to please him. It made her feel a way Raithe never had, with his twisted public displays.
As if underscoring that, when it was at last over and she was quivering, making short, convulsive jerks from the aftershocks, Mason gathered her to him. Niall or some other helpful person had brought a cushioned ottoman, so Mason eased her out of her straddle, turning her onto her hip on the cushioned seat now positioned between his long legs. Letting her upper body lie against his chest, he pushed her head into a tuck beneath his chin. Her arms naturally fell low around his waist, curling to the back, fingers hooking into the waistband of his slacks, holding on as she caught her breath. He pressed his hand alongside her face, cradling there, holding her.
“Very good, habiba. That’s my sweet love. ”
He was still hard as a rock beneath her, his heart thundering, but he asked nothing else of her, instead casually agreeing to another drink when Evan, expressing his pleasure at her display, offered to buy the next round. Niall’s hand whispered over her calf, an approval of its own, before the man rose to go get his Master’s order. Jessica closed her eyes, feeling the cool weight of the crystal tumble out of her cleavage and rest against the high rise of her right breast, mashed against Mason’s chest.
There was no comprehension or logic to what she’d just done. But the noise of the club was gone for her, all the flashing lights.
There was only the heat of his arm around her, the beat of his heart, his breath against his hair. This was where she was willing to stay forever, if time would stop and not force her to face future or past ever again. Perhaps that was why Farida had never regretted any of it. She’d had perfect moments like these.
