by Julia Devlin
Angry from being denied, she glared at him and yelled, “What are you doing?”
Those eyes narrowed to menacing slits. “What did you say?”
She sat on her knees, immediately realizing in her zealous frenzy she’d forgotten the rules of the game. “Um…”
“That’s what I thought.” His mouth firmed into a hard line and he ran a finger down her cheek. “While there’s no doubting your enthusiasm this go-around, what did you do wrong?”
She puffed out her bottom lip. Why did he have to be unreasonable? “You only told me to lick you. But, but, I was trying to please you.”
He nodded. “I know but you’re forgetting what pleases me is your obedience.”
Her shoulders straightened. A tiny devil inside her insisted it was worth it. “Are you trying to say you didn’t like it?”
“Not the point.” He cocked his head to the side and studied her for several long moments. “I’d turn you over my knee and paddle that ass but that wouldn’t be much of a punishment, now would it?”
Unable to lie, she shifted her attention to the floor.
He sighed, rose and walked over to the now-terrifying armoire. She’d only glimpsed a small portion of what lay inside but it was filled with metal devices and black leather instruments.
Scary. Exciting. Her pussy contracted.
Dear lord, what was happening to her?
Desire pulsed low in her belly. God, she felt needy. Desperate. If he’d just give her some relief she’d be able to focus.
Muscles rippled along his shoulder blades as he dug around in his cabinet of torture, seemingly unaware of her very existence.
One little stroke on her clit, was that too much to ask?
Her finger twitched. She could do it herself. The idea popped unbidden into her mind.
What could it hurt? He’d never know. The hard bundle of nerves swelled in hearty agreement. All she needed was a tiny bit of pressure. Just to take the edge off. She slid her fingers between her legs, shocked at the dampness she found there. Just as she was about to brush her clit, he turned around.
She snatched her hand back like a child caught with her hands in the cookie jar.
A fierce scowl darkened the chiseled lines of his face and he crossed his arms. “Were you going to touch yourself, Anna?”
As though she’d morphed into a petulant child, she shrugged. She didn’t understand why but for some strange reason she enjoyed the feeling. It felt good to be free. Not concerned with propriety. With being proper. To give in to her roller coaster of emotions as the whim struck her.
“I see,” he said, his voice flat. “Stand up.”
She stared back at him. Uncomprehending.
“Now.”
That one word sent her scurrying from the floor.
He walked over and studied her critically. He should have looked ridiculous with his jeans riding low and his erection jutting out but he didn’t. He looked so gorgeous she wanted to fall to her knees and take him in her mouth again.
She drifted off, thinking of the way that satin-smooth skin over hard steel felt filling her mouth. He’d tasted good.
She craved—
Pain stabbed her nipples, shooting down to her aching core. “Oh!”
She looked down to see a large blue crystal attached to chain hanging between her breasts. She hissed as the weight of the jewel pulled and tugged on the clamps, making her nipples burn in the most exquisite way.
A trickle of wetness trailed down her thighs. She was a wicked girl.
He reached between her legs and stroked her clit, ruthlessly thrusting in her pussy. “Spread those legs. Hands behind your head like I showed you.”
Oh yes. He was touching her. Giving her what she needed. She closed her eyes and opened her legs wider, lacing her fingers as instructed.
Please. Please. Please. The word chanting in her mind like a broken record, blocking out all thought. All chatter. Background noise faded, the only sound the rush of her own desire in her ears. Her only focus the burn in her nipples and the thrust of his thick fingers. The climax built inside her.
The orgasm coiled tight.
She hovered right on the brink.
More. More. More.
He stopped.
She wanted to scream in frustration. Lids snapping open, fully intent on yelling her displeasure, only the look on his face stopped her.
Pure male lust and hunger.
A carnal smile curved his lips, then he flicked his wrist.
A thousand tiny stings exploded over her pussy.
She moaned. What was that? Oh god. Please let him do that again.
“This is a flogger.” Answering her question as though she’d spoken. He held up a black instrument with long strands of leather dangling from the end. “You want it?”
She licked her lips, distracted by the pull of the weight on her nipples. Such exquisite torment.
“Well, girl?”
She nodded.
“Say the words,” he said, gripping her neck and claiming her mouth in a hard, quick, brutal kiss.
“Please, Mason.”
He flicked his wrist again but this time the strands licked over the curve of her hip. A soft, warm sting with no real heat behind it. More tease. Frustrating.
“There?” His eyes danced with amusement.
She scowled—no, there!—attempting to telegraph her most wicked desire to him through sheer intensity of thought.
Another flick of the strands across her skin.
“There?” His grin smug. Knowing.
Jerk. He knew what she wanted but it was far too sinful to speak. She shifted her legs farther apart, hoping it was more than enough encouragement.
The flogger fell across her stomach, tugging the weight of the jewel so her nipples burned. The words hovered in her throat but she couldn’t. She silently begged him the best she could.
He nipped her bottom lip then rained a series of light whips over her skin everywhere but where she longed for it the most. She knew—she swallowed hard against the rising thought—one lick of those fine strips of leather against her clit and she’d burst.
She opened her legs even wider, whimpering as her arms ached. Her hands hurt from the strain of being locked together but she refused to drop her position. Too terrified he’d stop and she’d fall to the floor and beg him.
There was something scary about this relentless need but she ached too damn much to care.
He paused, tilting his head to one side to watch her with heavy lids. “You’re going to have to ask me, girl.”
“I can’t,” she squeaked. She pressed her lips together.
He raised one brow. “I see. Well in that case you should be down on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”
She dropped like a stone, the weight of the crystal pulling her nipples so her empty pussy contracted. For one brief moment she thought she’d tumble over the edge right then and there.
He chuckled. “Aren’t you an eager girl?”
Heat suffused her cheeks, which seemed ridiculous given the circumstances. She raised her chin and looked at him, waiting for further instructions.
He stroked her cheek and his gaze softened. “God, I do love you, Anna.”
Tears of joy sprang to her eyes. She wanted to say the words back but her throat was too tight to speak.
Another caress across her skin. “First I’m going to fuck your mouth. Then I’m going to fuck your cunt.” No asking. Telling.
Her inner muscles actually clamped down at his words.
She licked her lips and opened.
“Good girl.” The words a low growl. “You just open up and let me do all the work.”
Her lashes fluttered closed as his erection nudged between her lips. His hot, steely length entered her mouth. Unlike before, she didn’t fight it. Didn’t try to take control. Didn’t gobble him up.
Instead, she surrendered to where he wanted her to go.
A low, rumbling moan. “Jesus. Yes,
that’s perfect. Take me in a little farther.”
His grip tightened in her hair as he thrust into her mouth.
She relaxed her throat. Her tongue. The muscles in her cheeks. She gave up the last remnant of control and let him use her as he desired.
Everything melted away. And it was heaven.
It filled up a place inside her she’d never known was empty.
Her lips touched the hand he’d wrapped around his shaft to keep her from gagging. Protecting her even in his absolute command of her.
A thump sounded as the flogger he held dropped to the floor. He jerked, his hips picked up speed as he increased his pace. He twisted her hair around his fist. “Keep going. That’s right. You’re going to be doing this a lot, girl.”
Pleasure at his words, at pleasing him, filled her chest. She increased her suction.
He thrust harder.
Moaned louder.
The head of his cock hit the back of her throat.
“Fuck!” He roared the word and she felt him lengthen in her mouth. He tapped her cheek. “Stop.”
It was the last thing she wanted but she let go, making sure to drag her tongue along the entire length and suction her lips tight. Savoring every last bit of him.
She blinked at him.
“Sassy girl.” He twined a lock of hair around his finger before letting it fall away. “Stand up.”
Not at all graceful, she stood and her knees buckled. He swept her up and the room swayed as he cradled her in his arms. “Okay?”
She nodded, cuddling in close. How could one man be so dangerous and so safe at once?
He carried her to the daybed as though she weighed nothing. He placed her gently on the mattress, the wine-red velvet heaven on her sensitive skin.
The weight of the crystal tugged at her nipples and she jerked as the pain shot straight to her core.
He unhooked the weight and toyed with her nipple. “I’m going to take the clamps off now, I think you’ve had them on long enough for your first session.”
She frowned, dismayed to feel a twinge of disappointment. “I’m okay.”
“It’s not your decision, it’s mine.” He tucked a curl behind her ear.
She opened her mouth to argue then snapped it shut. What was she arguing about? Because she wanted her nipples tortured? That was crazy.
A soft, gentle smile. “I’m not even close to done with you, Anna.”
Undeniable relief. “Okay.”
He stood and stripped off his jeans, watching her with a predatory gleam. He gripped his cock and stroked along its length, his eyes heavy-lidded. Sensual. “I’m going to fuck you.”
In anticipation, she shivered.
“And I’m not going to hold back.”
His gaze held hers and she was helpless to do anything but arch her spine in open invitation. Without his gaze ever leaving hers, he reached into the drawer and pulled out a condom. He tore the foil package open with his teeth then rolled the latex over his shaft then sat down next to her.
He played with her nipple, rubbing a slow circle over the very tip.
The pleasure was so great, she keened.
He leaned in close, his lips curling in a full-fledged grin. “Liking pain as much as you seem to, I think you’re in for quite a surprise when I remove these.”
“What—” But before she could continue, he released the latch and removed the clamp. He quickly covered the bud with his mouth, his tongue laving the hard peak. Seconds later, a searing, tear-producing pain radiated through her breast.
She cried out.
His fingers strummed over her clit.
From nowhere an orgasm tore through her, so intense, so fierce she screamed as wave after wave of blinding pleasure made her body buck and shake out of control. She slammed into his hand. Riding the waves of excruciating, exquisite pleasure.
Before she could process the enormity of her reaction, he released the latch on the other breast, his mouth moving with lightning speed and closing over the aching bud.
Another orgasm, more forceful than the last, dimmed her vision as the pain ripped through her. Another scream tore from her throat.
All propriety gone, she surrendered, her hips pumping as the orgasm beat at her like the fiercest of storms.
Then he was moving. His body covered hers. The hard-muscled length of him made her jerk as he shoved between her legs.
Her thighs fell open in invitation. With brutal force, he thrust inside her.
Another wave of orgasms racked her body. She shook uncontrollably, battered by pleasure.
How was this even possible? She, who took forever to come even once?
He pounded into her, bringing her surroundings back into crystal-sharp focus.
“Oh god, Mason!” she shouted as her inner muscles contracted wildly around him.
“That’s right, girl, lose control,” he murmured, shifting to angle his cock deep.
He hit a spot. One perfect, mind-altering spot that shot shards of pleasure through her. He grabbed her wrists and yanked them over her head. Holding her tight, he plunged inside her.
Over and over. On and on.
Yes, this was what she needed, had desired. That missing niggling piece she’d never known how to ask for. This was what she’d sensed when she’d met him. What had called to her. How they fit.
He trapped her hands in his big strong one. Still holding her captive, he pinched her nipple. Hard.
She came again.
His hips hammered deeper. Harder. Higher. His cock filled her. Building that ache until need coiled tight. Too tight.
Impossibly, she burst and called out the words swelling in her chest. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, panting the words.
The contractions pummeled her like a battering ram as he increased his speed. He thrust inside her and the waves of pleasure went on and on as he pumped fast and urgently.
Freeing her wrists, he hooked her knees over his elbows and thrust home, roaring as he found his own release.
Every muscle in her body went limp as he collapsed on top of her. The world became a distant haze.
Mason kissed her lips. Soft, gentle. More relaxed than she’d ever been in her life, she felt boneless. Unable to move.
He brushed a damp curl from her cheek and she distantly heard the sounds of their labored breathing.
Her head grew fuzzy. Her lashes drifted closed. Her brain shut off. She floated along in a post-orgasmic cloud so blissful and soothing she never wanted to come back to earth. She trembled when he trailed his hands over her body.
Lids heavy, she managed to lift them open, feeling she should say something.
Mason watched her with a love-filled gaze. “Just rest.”
Throat thick, her mind so cloudy she struggled to put together a sentence. “I-I p-promised myself I wouldn’t scream.”
Laughter. A happy, content sound, as if all was right in his world. She managed a weak smile.
She’d made him happy. Pleased him. That was right. A soul-deep contentment dragged her deeper toward unconsciousness.
He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips. “That’s funny, I promised myself you would.”
Chapter Nine
Anna stared down at the scrambled eggs, bacon and whole-wheat toast Mason made for breakfast. She fiddled with her fork. She’d taken one bite, forced it down a too-tight throat and given up.
If only she could blame the food. But she could only blame herself.
Somewhere between the ecstasy of last night and the morning light, she’d managed to create an awkward tension between them.
It was jarring. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, boneless with contentment, only to wake up with a hollowed-out pit in the center of her chest.
She hated herself for it.
Hated how one look at her face had made his huge, happy grin fade away. Hated that she’d replaced the gleam dancing in his eyes with sadness.
She wanted to rush in and
make it better. Throw her arms around him and beg for forgiveness. Promise she had no doubts.
But she couldn’t, because she couldn’t lie to him.
A beam of light caught the tine of the fork, drawing her attention to the light bruise marring her wrist. She brushed her thumb over the pale-purple spot as though she could wipe it away. She scowled at the marks. She was a teacher. She couldn’t have bruises. What would her students think? Their parents? Her coworkers?
“I warned you,” Mason said in a flat tone. He’d uttered those words last night too, although then they’d been laced with amusement. “But you insisted on struggling.”
And she had. Stretched taut on his bed last night, bound and spread-eagle, she’d writhed and twisted in helplessness, with all-consuming pleasure despite his orders to stay still.
She’d gladly paid his price and loved every minute of it.
She searched his shuttered face, looking for something but not quite sure what.
His chin jutted in the direction of her wrists. “Don’t worry. You’re off on Monday for one of those school holidays, right?”
Sudden tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Of course he remembered. She nodded.
“The bruises will be gone by Tuesday. If you’d had to work on Monday, I would have used softer cuffs.” He met her gaze. “Despite the fact that it wouldn’t have excited you as much.”
“Oh.” Heat spread up her neck. Thoughtful, even in his complete domination of her. She dropped her hands to her lap, no longer wanting her bruises to be the topic of discussion.
“It’s time to talk things through.” The resignation on his face nearly killed her.
She shook her head. She didn’t want to talk. Talking meant decisions. Talking meant answers. Answer she didn’t have. Her chin trembled. She couldn’t admit what had seemed so erotic and special last night, what had felt so damn good she’d nearly lost her mind in pleasure, now left a sick knot in the pit of her stomach.
She’d hurt him.
His lips pressed together but the rest of his expression softened. “Remember, this is about honesty. Just take a deep breath and tell me what’s on your mind.”
She picked up the napkin and held it as though it were a beloved security blanket. They’d get to the truth eventually, she’d learned that all too well last night, but for now she evaded. “Who is the real Mason? Is he the man I’ve known for the last six months? Or the man from last night?” The one who’d made her scream with orgasms so intense she thought she was being ripped apart.
