The Master
Page 34
My cheeks reddened when I recalled my frenzied reaction. I’d shoved at his chest until he’d laid back, then I’d devoured his cock. I’d sucked on his balls, licking everywhere, moaning around his shaft while he’d grunted, “Fuck, FUCK!” over and over. He’d told me, “Take my cum into you! Drink it, dushen’ka.” Our gazes had been locked as I’d consumed spurt after spurt. Once he’d finished ejaculating, I’d pumped him for more. “No más?” I’d pouted while he gaped. Máximo shockeado.
“Better than fantasy,” he’d grated between breaths. “And I’ll only need a couple of minutes to give you more. You make me insatiable.”
I remembered smoothing leisurely kisses over his dick until he’d swiftly grown rock hard again. Then he’d pushed me back on the lounge chair, looming over me. He’d laid his cock between my legs, rubbing that unyielding flesh over my clit.
I’d been on the verge of factory shutdown, caring about nothing, thinking about nothing, but coming.
As my head thrashed, he’d told me, “I want to fuck you like this. Everything’s on my table.”
Back arching, I’d begged for his cock, crying out for him to shove it in.
Oh, he had. Without a condom.
I recalled the wonder in his tone: “Your pussy”—thrust—“gets so”—thrust—“hot!” As I’d moaned, he groaned, “It’s like fucking a little forge.”
So that was how it’d happened. Yes, I should have told him earlier that I wasn’t on the pill. But it wasn’t as if I had lots of experience with this. In fact, I’d only had that conversation once before, when I was seventeen.
Sevastyan had sat me down to discuss things between us going forward, but I’d been stupid and drunk—not only on champagne, but on sex. I’d been too preoccupied with the possibility of sucking him to pay attention.
Winds blew over the deck, ruffling my hair and grazing my pebbled nipples through my T-shirt. As if I’d been trained over the night, I immediately thought of Sevastyan’s mouth sucking them. How could I still desire the man who was holding me prisoner? I must be close to ovulating, which meant I was basically in heat.
I would take another shower—and manually take the edge off. When I returned inside, each step made my breasts move against the T-shirt, the material skimming over the hard peaks.
He remained on the couch. Leaning over the coffee table, he rifled through papers. When I entered, he stilled, saying nothing.
Just looking at his gorgeous face made my breath hitch. I traipsed past him, in a daze. Whatever he saw in my expression made his body tense, his nostrils flare.
I gazed away, couldn’t meet his eyes.
A dark laugh. “Now who’s been replaying what we did? It’s gotten you as wet as I was hard. But I warn you now, little girl, do not pleasure yourself—even to thoughts of me—or there will be consequences.”
To thoughts of him? The nerve!
“You’ll follow two rules when you’re with me. You do not lie, and you do not touch yourself. Unless I’ve commanded you to for my entertainment.”
I whirled around. “Such ego! How do you know I wasn’t imagining another man? My partner? Also, be aware that anyone who’s ever tried to ‘command’ me has failed miserably.” I left him, heading for my room.
In the shower, I kept seeing him in my fantasies. He was right—if I got off, it would be to thoughts of him. I refused! Ignoring all the aching parts of my body, I washed and dried off.
I stole another T-shirt of his, then climbed up into the guest bed, turning on the TV. Though years had passed since I’d watched it, I stared blankly at the screen as a night’s worth of memories returned.
The way he’d thrown back his head and roared as he’d ejaculated inside me.
The addictive taste of his cum.
The possessive way he’d licked my pussy, as if someone was about to take his favorite treat away and never give it back.
With a curse, I surrendered to my lust, bunching the shirt to my waist as my hand dipped. I was arching to my fingers when I heard: “You really are in heat, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER 16
Mierda!
“Couldn’t hold out?” He knelt on the bed and seized my wrist. “If you have these needs, you call for me.” He brought my hand to his mouth to suck my middle and forefinger between his lips.
As he licked them, he closed his eyes. I shook from sensation, feeling each pull of his mouth in my nipples and core. Could I come like this? I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, that this wasn’t part of the deal. But those memories . . .
He took my wet fingers and returned them between my legs. “Pet yourself.”
I hesitated until he peeled off his shirt and opened the fly of his jeans, his dick proudly jutting, hard as steel. The tip was moist, taunting my tongue.
Game over. I had to experience him just one more time. My fingers got busy.
When he was naked, he started jacking that thick shaft as I masturbated faster. His big fist. His huge cock.
“You like to watch?”
I nodded breathlessly.
“I might let you later. For now, I want more of your taste.”
Grabbing my ankles, he yanked me across the bed. “Spread your legs.” When I did, he stared at my pussy. “This is mine now.” He met my gaze, telling me, “I own it. Just as I own you. I’m your master now, Katya.”
“Better than fantasy,” he’d grated between breaths. “And I’ll only need a couple of minutes to give you more. You make me insatiable.”
I remembered smoothing leisurely kisses over his dick until he’d swiftly grown rock hard again. Then he’d pushed me back on the lounge chair, looming over me. He’d laid his cock between my legs, rubbing that unyielding flesh over my clit.
I’d been on the verge of factory shutdown, caring about nothing, thinking about nothing, but coming.
As my head thrashed, he’d told me, “I want to fuck you like this. Everything’s on my table.”
Back arching, I’d begged for his cock, crying out for him to shove it in.
Oh, he had. Without a condom.
I recalled the wonder in his tone: “Your pussy”—thrust—“gets so”—thrust—“hot!” As I’d moaned, he groaned, “It’s like fucking a little forge.”
So that was how it’d happened. Yes, I should have told him earlier that I wasn’t on the pill. But it wasn’t as if I had lots of experience with this. In fact, I’d only had that conversation once before, when I was seventeen.
Sevastyan had sat me down to discuss things between us going forward, but I’d been stupid and drunk—not only on champagne, but on sex. I’d been too preoccupied with the possibility of sucking him to pay attention.
Winds blew over the deck, ruffling my hair and grazing my pebbled nipples through my T-shirt. As if I’d been trained over the night, I immediately thought of Sevastyan’s mouth sucking them. How could I still desire the man who was holding me prisoner? I must be close to ovulating, which meant I was basically in heat.
I would take another shower—and manually take the edge off. When I returned inside, each step made my breasts move against the T-shirt, the material skimming over the hard peaks.
He remained on the couch. Leaning over the coffee table, he rifled through papers. When I entered, he stilled, saying nothing.
Just looking at his gorgeous face made my breath hitch. I traipsed past him, in a daze. Whatever he saw in my expression made his body tense, his nostrils flare.
I gazed away, couldn’t meet his eyes.
A dark laugh. “Now who’s been replaying what we did? It’s gotten you as wet as I was hard. But I warn you now, little girl, do not pleasure yourself—even to thoughts of me—or there will be consequences.”
To thoughts of him? The nerve!
“You’ll follow two rules when you’re with me. You do not lie, and you do not touch yourself. Unless I’ve commanded you to for my entertainment.”
I whirled around. “Such ego! How do you know I wasn’t imagining another man? My partner? Also, be aware that anyone who’s ever tried to ‘command’ me has failed miserably.” I left him, heading for my room.
In the shower, I kept seeing him in my fantasies. He was right—if I got off, it would be to thoughts of him. I refused! Ignoring all the aching parts of my body, I washed and dried off.
I stole another T-shirt of his, then climbed up into the guest bed, turning on the TV. Though years had passed since I’d watched it, I stared blankly at the screen as a night’s worth of memories returned.
The way he’d thrown back his head and roared as he’d ejaculated inside me.
The addictive taste of his cum.
The possessive way he’d licked my pussy, as if someone was about to take his favorite treat away and never give it back.
With a curse, I surrendered to my lust, bunching the shirt to my waist as my hand dipped. I was arching to my fingers when I heard: “You really are in heat, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER 16
Mierda!
“Couldn’t hold out?” He knelt on the bed and seized my wrist. “If you have these needs, you call for me.” He brought my hand to his mouth to suck my middle and forefinger between his lips.
As he licked them, he closed his eyes. I shook from sensation, feeling each pull of his mouth in my nipples and core. Could I come like this? I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, that this wasn’t part of the deal. But those memories . . .
He took my wet fingers and returned them between my legs. “Pet yourself.”
I hesitated until he peeled off his shirt and opened the fly of his jeans, his dick proudly jutting, hard as steel. The tip was moist, taunting my tongue.
Game over. I had to experience him just one more time. My fingers got busy.
When he was naked, he started jacking that thick shaft as I masturbated faster. His big fist. His huge cock.
“You like to watch?”
I nodded breathlessly.
“I might let you later. For now, I want more of your taste.”
Grabbing my ankles, he yanked me across the bed. “Spread your legs.” When I did, he stared at my pussy. “This is mine now.” He met my gaze, telling me, “I own it. Just as I own you. I’m your master now, Katya.”
