by Alexis Angel
“Don’t stop, Mason… Don’t stop…” I beg him, my pussy tightening around his shaft. That familiar pressure starts to mount inside of me and I press my forehead against the wall, surrendering to the incoming avalanche.
“You don’t need to ask,” he tells me, thrusting even faster. I’m barely moving, but even so I can already feel heavy beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Mason is on a whole new level; forget about boys, I found myself a man.
When I finally come and my muscles start to twitch, I place my forearms on the wall and hiss through my gritted teeth. Pleasure rages through me with a fury and my mind starts to drift off; right now, I can’t focus on anything aside from the river of ecstasy rushing through me.
“Now,” he whispers against my ear, slowly pulling his cock out of me. “I want you back on your knees.” I take one deep breath and obedient, I turn on my heels and go down in front of him. His cock is wet and glistening from my fluids and, guided by wicked instincts, I lean into him and place my lips against his glans. My own scent and flavor hits me at once and, losing all control, I open my mouth as wide as I can and roll my lips down his shaft. As I move back, I suck him dry, taking all of my fluids into my own mouth.
When I take his cock out of my mouth, I look up at him and smile. Mischief is burning in my heart and I pick up my discarded thong up from the floor. It’s still wet, and I wrap it around his cock; grinning wildly, I place my hand on top of it and start to stroke him softly.
“I want you to come in my mouth,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. Slowly, I start stroking him harder, now using both my hands. When my rhythm reaches its peak, I pull the thong down his shaft and then throw it away; it’s time to get serious. “I want all of it inside of me,” I continue to say, the words tumbling down my lips completely unfiltered. I’m unhinged, and I just love it.
I’m fucking my stepfather, and I’m being as dirty as I’ve ever been; by all means, I shouldn’t be feeling sexy, but that’s exactly how I feel. I don’t know, there’s just something about the way he looks at me… About the way he gets hard for me. Is there anything better than knowing that a man like Mason can’t look away from you?
“Fuck,” he groans and, when I feel his cock spasming slightly, I lunge at him and place his glans inside my mouth. Not even a fraction of a second after, he erupts, his warm cum rushes into my mouth, his cock pulsing violently as it unleashes all of his seed. It’s salty, and has a harsh flavor; the best way to describe it would be to say that it tastes like a real man. Which seems just right.
It only takes two seconds for my mouth to be brimming with his semen; still, he keeps on cumming. Thick strands of it start dripping down my chin and, as he keeps on gushing, more and more of his seed escapes my mouth. But I remain frozen in place, not taking my mouth off his cock; I only do it when the spasms stop, half of his load inside my mouth, and the other half already dripping down my neck and moving toward my tits.
Moving slowly, I roll my lips back and his cock pops out of my mouth. Looking up at him, I let a wild grin take over my face and then open up my mouth; the moment I do it, his cum starts to spill out of my mouth and drip down my chin. Grinning back at me, Mason places two fingers under my chin and closes my mouth.
“Swallow,” he tells me in a hushed tone and, without even thinking about it, I do it. As his flavor burns down my throat, he reaches for me with one hand and makes me go up to my feet. Now standing in front of him, I let a gentle smile take over my face. He brushes two fingers over my cum-coated lips, his eyes glazed as he takes in the sight. With a smile on his lips, he bends down and picks up my thong from the floor; he presses it against my lips, using it to dry my skin. I stand there, frozen in place, as he moves the fabric over my skin at a tortuous pace, cleaning me up.
When he’s finally done, he lets the thong fall from his fingers and kisses me.
“What the fuck are we doing?” he asks, more to himself than to me. I say nothing and just look into his eyes; I’m wondering the same.
What the fuck are we doing?
Mason
I can hardly believe what transpired between Becca and I … in my office no less. Now I'm in my apartment, leaning back into the leather of my couch and looking out across the city. Cityscapes have a way of calming my nerves. The skyscrapers are a testament to human achievement, power, and determination. The hum of traffic, people, and hustle is music to my ears.
One of the reasons why I chose this apartment was for the view. Floor to ceiling windows on the 40th floor… the view is unparalleled. I pick up my glass of scotch from the nearby table and listen as the ice clinks against each other. I swirl it around for a moment with quick flicks of my wrist before bringing it to my lips.
The heat of the liquid burns a comforting trail down my throat and I close my eyes. I need to figure out what's going on … with Becca and Lorna. Lorna seems hell bent on destroying the company I've worked so hard to build up. I don't understand why she'd urge us to embark on such a risky investment. No, risky isn't the right word … it's downright suicide.
And Becca … what can I say? She drives me wild. The way she walked into my office … determined, knowing exactly what she wanted … I couldn't help myself. I knew I needed her as much as she needed me. There was a hunger in her movements … and in mine. But I know it's wrong.
There's a knock on my door and I stand up to answer it, but I must've left it unlocked because the door opens without me, and before I can react, in walks Lorna.
"Hello, dear," she says, placing one hand on my arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. She then walks past me, throwing her leather purse on top of the dining room table.
Her touch makes me want to shrink away, and when she calls me 'dear,' I try not to lose my stomach. Instead, I walk away and pour myself another glass of scotch without saying a word. I think the expression is speaking volumes to her right now. It's a mixture of disgust, exhaustion, and frustration, and she's trying to ignore the fact that I want nothing to do with her.
At least the scotch should help … I hope.
She approaches me from behind and rakes her fingers through my hair.
"You're not still mad about earlier, are you?" she asks.
I lift her fingers off of my hair and take a few steps away from her.
"I don't know if mad is the right word, but—"
She cuts me off. "Good, because I have an idea," she purrs, walking to me and placing her hands on my chest. She reaches for my tie and starts loosening the knot. "I think I know of the perfect way to let off a little steam."
She pulls my tie from my shirt collar and moves to the buttons, slowing unhooking them. I bring my scotch to my lips and take a big gulp.
What can I do? This snake of a woman has the power to ruin me, and Kane Price, the company I've worked so hard to build up.
Do I force her out and risk her backlash?
Do I walk out, and leave her standing here, wondering?
As I'm trying to figure out how I can get out of this, I realize Lorna has my shirt completely open.
"Mason, you're even more … impressive than I had imagined," she says, using her cold fingers to trace the contours of my muscular chest.
Great. The last thing I want to do is impress this woman.
"Look out there," she says, pointing to the glittering cityscape of New York City. "Together, you and I will rule this city."
"Not if I have anything to do with it," I mutter. "There is no 'we.' There's just 'I.' And we'd certainly never rule anything …let alone the whole of New York City by making bad investments."
"Oh come on now," Lorna laughs. "Are we going to talk about that again? I thought we've moved past that. Let's have a little fun, shall we?"
She hooks her fingers under my belt loops and slowly unbuckles my belt. I can hear the clink of the metal buckle unfastening and I shift uncomfortably, my pulse increasing.
"I can't do this," I say, pushing her hands off my belt.
She isn't listeni
ng. "Of course you can," she purrs, "and you will. We're married, remember? This is what husbands and wives do." She renews her efforts, shoving her fingers under the waistband of my boxers.
My stomach lurches at her touch and at the thought of Lorna as my wife. She's one of the most heartless people I've ever encountered in my life—and I've encountered a lot of despicable people on Wall Street. There's no upside to being with a woman like her.
I push her off me again, and this time I stand up from the couch. It's a bold move and Lorna isn't happy. Her eyes are as cold and unpredictable as a brewing storm.
"I won't say this again, Mason," she says, glaring at me. "You better do as I say and follow my lead, starting with Red Lion Aviation."
"I've already told you, it's a terrible investment," I say. "Red Lion Aviation is an Indonesian airline with one of the worst safety records in the industry. It's not uncommon to hear that another one of their planes has taken a nose dive into the ocean."
"Minor details," Lorna waves dismissively. "Planes go down. People understand that. They're still far safer than cars."
I'm not willing to hear her reasons for why we should invest in Red Lion Aviation because no matter what, I've performed the market research, crunched the numbers, and I know that it doesn't make sense on any level.
"I won't do it," I reply.
"What did you just say?"
"You heard me."
"I'd carefully reconsider what you're saying," she hisses. She walks over and grabs her purse from the table. "Because if you don't, I'll make sure the Board sees that you are unfit to lead this company."
Without saying another word, she walks to the door and steps out before slamming it shut behind her.
Fuck me. How did I allow myself to get into this mess?
Just as I'm about to sit back down on the couch and try and forget about Lorna for the night, I hear a knock on the door.
I hope she isn't back for another round.
I open the door.
And I see her … it's Becca.
But she looks different. There's a suspicious look to her eyes.
Becca
I shouldn't be here at his apartment. Every fiber in my brain is telling me that I should just turn the other direction and walk away.
No, I should probably run away.
As far away from Mason and my mother as I can get.
If I have half an ounce of common sense in my head I won't go any deeper. I'll cut my losses and tell myself it was what it was—a very hot, passionate affair with an older man who just happens to be my stepdad.
But that's if I had any common sense.
That's if I could make myself forget how hot he made me when he held me. How excited I got when my hand wrapped around his hard shaft. How I felt him grow in my hand. How I made him hard.
Sure, he's a playboy. I knew that going into it.
He's 16 years older than me. I can do the math.
But the times that we've been together, when he's taken control of my body—owned it and used it for his pleasure—can never be forgotten.
I can't forget his cock inside of me, stretching me out.
I can't forget seeing his eyes roll back into his head when I put him in my mouth and run my tongue up and down his shaft.
When I pumped him repeatedly.
When I licked his tip.
When I made him cum.
Oh God, when he came. It's almost as hot as when I think back to how he makes me cum.
See where my mind has gone? See what's happened?
No, I'm definitely not thinking with my brain.
I'm thinking with my clit.
Is that even possible for a woman to do? I've heard of guys who think with their cocks, but women are supposed to be smarter than that, aren't they? I mean, your husband or your boyfriend, babe. You're way smarter than him, right?
So why am I standing here then like a ridiculous deer looking at headlights?
I mean, thank God Mom didn't see me as she walked off. She was walking the other direction, but she was too busy straightening her clothes out to notice anything.
Mason recognized me though.
He's looking straight at me.
I can't help myself. I should be running away. I should be protecting myself from what Mom can do to guys.
But I don't run away, do I?
I stay here as he comes up to me.
I can smell his cologne wafting into my nostrils and I close my eyes as I inhale. He smells like...man.
All of those thoughts of self-preservation that were in the back of my head are now completely gone.
All of the dark, twisted, sexual desires that I've been living with Mason—fucking my older stepdad—are back and stronger than ever.
It's as if the demon Lust has taken control of my body. Because when I open my eyes, Mason's standing in front of me.
He looks at me silently. He's so confident. So strong.
And why shouldn't he be?
He knows he owns me.
The way he grabs me by the arm and starts walking toward the open door to his apartment. I have no choice but to follow. And even if I had a choice, we both know that I would go wherever this man took me.
I feel more than hear the door to the apartment close behind me.
But just as suddenly as he grabbed me and pulled me in, Mason lets me go and turns toward me.
I notice the skyline visible through his open window. The skyscrapers of New York City glitter in the evening. It would be a breathtaking view, if I could even compose my thoughts at the moment.
I mean, my Mom walking out of Mason's apartment.
Adjusting her clothes.
There's only one reason that she could have been here. Only one thing she could have been doing.
"Becca," Mason says to me, looking at me. As much as he acts the completely dominant alpha-male around me, I see in his eyes true concern for what's going on in my head. He takes a step closer to me. "Listen to me before you jump to any conclusions."
"There's no conclusions to jump to, Mason," I tell him, surprising myself with how calm and cool I sound. "I think I have a pretty fair idea what you two were up to."
Mason sighs. "We didn't fuck, if that's what you mean."
Maybe he sees me wince as he says the word fuck. I'm imagining my mother claiming him. My Mason being conquered by Mom. Taken away from me.
Maybe because I start trembling.
"Hey," Mason says and I'm about to respond but the fact that I'm about to lose this man to someone as vile and deceitful and conniving as my mother is enough to make my knees tremble.
The next thing I know, Mason has his arms wrapped around me and he's holding me from falling.
My knees have given way and had Mason not held me, I would have crumpled to the floor.
But holding me up is seriously about as much effort on Mason's part as maybe opening a door.
With ease and almost no exertion, he picks me up and starts walking to his bedroom.
"What's the matter with you today, babe?" he asks, his eyes finding mine as he walks into the bedroom.
I shake my head.
I mean, you're probably even rolling your eyes at me right now, aren't you. You're used to getting to know strong, confident, sexually mature women whenever you sit down with Alexis.
Why am I acting like this? I mean, you remember when I first met Mason? That was me. I was strong. Confident. An independent and sexual woman who wasn't afraid to go after what I wanted.
But now, it seems that I've turned into this 21-year-old hapless little damsel in distress, doesn't it?
If you only knew what I went through that brings these memories back. If you only knew the things--
"Babe," Mason says as he puts me on his bed, taking off his shoes and getting in next to me. "Tell me what the fuck is going on. Is this because of Lorna?"
I mean, it is and it isn't.
"There's nothing going on with me and her," he says through clenched teeth.
"I know it looks bad, considering the fact that she is legally married to me."
I close my eyes, trying to will the thought away. The fact that Mom is married to him makes it feel like daggers being thrown at my face.
Mason sees this and he immediately runs his hand down my cheek.
"Hey, babe," he says, his voice soft. "Look at me."
It takes me a moment, but eventually I open my eyes and look at him.
"I will never, ever touch that woman," he tells me, his eyes piercing into mine. "I will never be with her. Never have an intimate moment with her. I swear. You will never have to worry about that. The marriage wasn't even a ceremony … just paperwork. It's not even worth talking about."
Maybe it's the intensity by which he says it, or maybe it's how he's looking at me, but I believe him.
I do. I swear. I may not know all of what's going on, but I know at least that he's telling me the truth.
Please, don't worry about me, okay? Instead, just help me figure out what's going on with Mason.
"Why are you guys even married in the first place?" I ask him, my eyes flashing curiosity as he smiles. "I mean, what the fuck?"
He shrugs. "I'm still trying to figure out what she can get from me," Mason says to me, as his hands run idly down the curves of my body. "All I know is that I need to be careful. She's been after my company for a long time."
"Kane Price?" I ask. He nods.
"She's had her eye on it since before I went public," he says to me. "She had her fucking eye on it even while her dad was alive. She'll do anything to get it."
"She'll do anything to get what she wants," I say, and almost instinctively I scooch closer on the bed next to him. I wrap my arms around him. "Don't let her get you, please."
Mason wraps his arms around me.
"What did she ever do to you?" he asks, genuinely concerned. I mean, come on. The way I'm acting would concern anyone.
"There's too much hurt and too much pain with her, Mason," I tell him, nestling my face into his chest. "She's taken too much."
There's a pause from Mason as he kisses the top of my head.
"Has she ever taken someone you loved?" he asks me.
