Stepbrother Studs Mason: A Stepbrother Romance (3 page)

I heard air whoosh through the flanges and jerked just as they struck my behind. The stroke wasn’t painful, just shocking. He followed with several more, hitting a different spot each time until my entire ass grew hot. The strokes were rhythmic, and produced a very odd effect. Although I knew I’d bear a welt or two, they served to strangely lull to my senses.

My breath evened out, then deepened. My head dropped. The heat burning my ass suffused my pussy, engorging my sex, making me wet. Arousal stirred and grew, steadily. When the first pop landed on my labia, I groaned.

The strokes halted and a big, warm hand cupped my sex. I moaned. I couldn’t help it.

“You have a lovely pussy, Angel. It’s wet and red. But you won’t come like this. You aren’t permitted to come. Do you understand?”

“Why not?” I raised my head and tried to angle it to glare at him. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Your orgasm is mine to command. You won’t come until I allow it,” he told me. “So whatever I do to you, I want you fight against having an orgasm until I tell you it’s okay.”

I shook my head, confused. This made no sense. Orgasm was the whole point, wasn’t it? Like, he was supposed to be fixing that part of me. Now I was supposed to not come?

Strangely, already, I was hot, primed. Close. Closer than I’d ever been with another person in the room, anyway.

“Mine, Angel.” His hand covered me, cupping my mound completely. “You can’t come until I allow it. Tell me so, or I stop right now.”

I huffed a breath, ready to scream at him. My body was tense. If the pleasure rose just one more increment, I’d be fucking there. His fingers plucked my hooded clit, and again, I jerked. With my ass and pussy on fire, and now my clit being teased, what he asked, no demanded, wasn’t fair.

“Fuck you.”

“No, I may fuck you, but not tonight.” His voice was so smooth. Soft as silk. But hard, too. There was a steel in it that cowed me. “That gift will come when you’ve learned a little discipline.”

His hand slid away, and they he clapped my pussy again—so hard it stung.

I gasped and went rigid. But he was already plucking at my clit again, using my own fluids to slick his fingertips. He squeezed and pinched until my moans and whimpers filled the room.

“It’s torture!!” I bit out.

“Not torture, sweetheart. I want your clit exposed. Engorged. Because when it is, I’ll make you come with the flogger. I’ll stroke you so sweetly, you’ll come unraveled. Do you want that?”

His voice had its own buttery texture. Soft but firm. Hot and cold. My clit grew, expanding until I felt the hood begin to slide away. And then the flogger slid off my skin and I held still, breathless.

The next lash caressed my labia and clit. My breasts tightened, my lungs cinched. A quiver worked its way down my spine to shiver through my thighs.

Again and again, he gave me those rhythmic strokes until my cunt was burning. I mewed like a kitten and wriggled against my restraints.

“Not yet, Angel,” he crooned. “Wait. Be a good girl.”

I began to sob, unable to hold back the soft hiccupping cries. I’d felt orgasms before, but they’d been pale, limp things—and although I didn’t allow this one to fully flower, I knew with everything I possessed, this would be different. This would be
more.

Gratitude mixed with my anxiety. Hope unfurled along with anguished desire. Stroke after stroke fell—long and short, soft and stinging—until I lifted my ass as high as my restraints would allow and begged silently for release.

“Baby, now,” he finally said, his voice thick and ragged.

As though I’d been sitting on a rocket, I shot over the precipice, so hard and fast, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound. I hung there for the longest time, his fingers working my clit, slow drugging circles that expanded the explosion outward, prolonging it.

When, at last, I fell back to earth, I hung over the bench, every limb quaking. I was aware of him moving around me, freeing me, but still I couldn’t move. Then hands slid beneath me, and I was lifted.

His chest was bare. When he’d removed his shirt didn’t matter. That I could smooth my cheek against his sweaty chest and breathe his musk was pure bliss. He walked to an arm chair and lowered himself, arranging me again, this time with my legs over an arm, my head snuggled in the corner of his shoulder. I was nude and thankful for the fact because everywhere my skin touched his tingled with awareness.

“Do you see, now, how it could be between us?” he murmured against my hair.

“Yes,” I said, sighing, not wanting to think about what he really meant. Right that moment, I wanted to be his forever, not just some girl he was training to be with some other Dom.

His slipped a hand between my thighs and began to swirl in my still wet entrance. Then he kissed my temple. “Yes, Sir.”

And because I knew he had the power to bring me back to the brink with his lazy, swirling thumb, I snuggled closer and whispered. “Yes, Sir.

* * * *

A month later, I let myself into his apartment with the key he’d given me just the day before. What had been his message when he’d handed it to me? Was I being given the freedom to come and go because I was a convenience? Or did it mean more?

As always, the moment I crossed his threshold, my skin began to tingle. My nipples peaked, a slick of moisture glazed my thighs. The past month had been a revelation. I wasn’t broken, it turned out. Just... untapped.

And it had taken the right man, one man, to find the key to unlocking my pleasure.

I hung my robe and strode nude to the playroom. Once inside, I looked around at the equipment. He’d told me I could choose my “punishment.” My gaze went lovingly to the spanking bench and then the swaying cage. Both had been enjoyable. The St. Andrews cross was another favorite. When he strapped me to it, I was completely helpless, open for anything he wanted.

Everything he did, no matter how humiliating at first, brought me the deepest pleasure. Over the weeks, he’d introduced me to steadily more invasive, more intimate acts. He’d seen to my every need, feeding me with his fingers, letting me drink from his mouth, even using the bathroom and douching were things he insisted he oversee.

So that I did them properly. So that I was prepared to his strict standards for his use.

Oh, how I loved being used. Mason taught me how to pleasure him, but in doing so, showed me that my greatest pleasure was serving him. In every way.

My gaze went to the bed in one corner of the room. A place we’d slept between sessions. Would he be disappointed if I chose the bed? Somehow, the thought of lying there, of making it the center prop for our play, made it seem unbearably intimate. Would he consider it overstepping?

Not once during all our time together had he given me a hint of what would happen next. In the back of my mind, I dreaded the moment he would tell me he was done. That I was trained. Would he offer to find me another Dom? The thought left me cold.

Because… because I had fallen in love with him.

Deeply. My whole world was this dark, enigmatic, powerful man.

Soft footsteps padded toward me. I glanced backward. He approached me, fully nude. I knew every inch of him, had caressed and kissed every rigid part. His cock was a thing of beauty—thick and slightly curved, thick veins traversing the sides. The fact he was already engorged didn’t escape me.

I pursed my lips.

“Are you pouting because I didn’t let you suck me hard, darling sub?”

I slowly knelt and ducked my head, wiping my expression clear of any disappointment. With my hands clasped behind me, I glanced up from beneath my eyelashes.

“It’s not my place to pout or be disappointed,” I said, although I did narrow my eyes just enough to let him know I wasn’t a complete doormat.

His lips twitched. “Did you choose?”

I lifted my head higher. “The bed, please, Sir.”

He held still, and then gave me a tight smile. “Very well. Go to the bed and lie down. Spread your legs so that I can look right up your pretty cunt.”

A blush warmed my cheeks, but I didn’t tell him to fuck off or call him a bastard. I’d been past giving him crap for over a week—I hadn’t dared anymore, when he’d withheld permission for me to come for
days.
I’d been a crying wreck. When Daddy had asked me if I was well, I’d shot a glance across the table at Mason, not knowing what to say. Mason had shocked me by telling Daddy that he had me well in hand.

The fact Daddy had looked strangely pleased had completely unsettled me.

I strode to the bed and laid down, placing my hands beside my head and widening my legs so that he could look his fill of my swelling pussy.

His features hardened as he stared, and then went to a table that held a covered tray and flipped back the covering to withdraw a blindfold.

I bit my lips to keep from smiling. I loved when he used it. I could hide my expression and concentrate instead on every sensation. It was freeing. I closed my eyes obediently as he slipped the ends beneath my head and tied it.

“I hoped you’d choose the bed,” he murmured.

I remained silent. He hadn’t told me I was free to speak. Another lesson I’d learned early on.

“You’re free to respond,” he whispered then kissed my mouth.

“Why are you happy with my choice, Sir?”

“We’ve explored all my devices, but while this room is somewhere we can play, going forward, I want you to know you’re mine to do with as I please, wherever we’re together.”

I didn’t understand, and was almost afraid to ask. But I opened my mouth anyway.

“Not now, Angel.” A finger pressed against my lips. “Let me prepare you first.”

Breathing deeply, I gave him a nod.

Fingers plucked my nipples until the tips stood erect. Clamps were applied and tightened until I hissed, and then tightened a fraction more. His fingers then played with my clit, swirling then tugging, until it, too, was engorged and he could clamp it.

Well on my way to full arousal, I quivered, all my moist places getting wetter by the second. Arms slid under my knees and hooked them high. His cock pushed against my entrance then slid deep.

Blind and filled, my breath came faster.

Mason began gliding slowly in and out, juicing me up. I kept hold of my arousal, not allowing it to build, because I knew he noted everything and wouldn’t approve of me getting ahead of his intentions—whatever they might be.

When my body was pliant and warmed, he placed my calves over his shoulders and pushed deeper inside me, holding still. The mattress sank beside my shoulders. His warm, minty breath touched my cheek. “Have you enjoyed your time with me?”

I nearly snorted. He better than anyone knew exactly how much I enjoyed our play. That I wished for more was my guilty secret.

“Am I your master?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered. Where was he leading me?

“I’ve taught you everything, introduced you to every practice I enjoy.”

I frowned. Before I thought better of it, I blurted. “Are you telling me we’re done?”

Good Lord, could I have sounded more dismayed?

A kiss pressed against my lips, and I lifted my head to deepen it. Anything to tempt him to linger longer with me.

“Are you setting me free?” I asked, once he pulled away. Tears soaked into the silk blindfold.

“I have something to confide.” His hands enfolded mine. “And it’s easier like this. I’d get a little lost if I could see your eyes. And if I wasn’t locked deep inside you, I might never find the courage.”

Tears seeped faster, and I’m pretty sure my ragged breath betrayed me. Before he could say anything else, I blurted again, “Why hasn’t there been a woman, one woman, in your life?”

I thought I knew the answer, hoped I wasn’t wrong.

His cock tunneled just an inch deeper, and I wrapped my legs around his hips to hold him there, offering what comfort and encouragement I could. I needed his answer.

“I’ve been waiting for a woman to choose to belong to me, heart and body. Someone who’ll be mine—completely mine.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, my voice thickening.

“Because I waited until you’d learned some humility and control—until I was sure you might be willing to be my everything.”

My mouth dried instantly, and I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I went with a quip, a deflection, I knew, and a bratty one. “And what do I get?”

His chest shook once. “A man who will worship you and honor you and give you limitless orgasms.”

“Will you love me?” I asked, my voice now wispy-thin. My body was shaking, too filled with hope to contain it.

“I do. I always have, Angel.” His hand loosened the blindfold and pulled it away.

My breath caught as I opened my eyes. His expression was one I’d never seen before, his gaze steady, features tight. He was worried about my response.

I let go the breath I’d been holding and gave him a blinding smile. “You are the only Master I will ever want, Mason. I’m yours.”

His kiss was quick and hard. His hips began to flex, driving deep inside me, filling me up, taking me places only he could. As pleasure swept through me, I wrapped myself around him, holding him as tightly as he held me.