The Real Mason (8 page)

He leaned down and licked her nipple, swirling his tongue around the hard, eager tip. Sucking. Teasing. Pulling the raised peak deep in his mouth to extend the tip. A squeak turned to a low moan that sent the remaining blood in his brain to his groin.

He raised his head and waited until her thick lashes flicked open. “See, enthusiasm. That doesn’t seem too hard, does it?”

“No, Mason,” she said, oh so prim.

He treated the other breast to the same torment, loving every second of the needy sounds she made. When he released her nipple with a pop he was pleased to see she had not moved. “Aren’t you a good girl, keeping still.”

Unable to resist that mouth a second longer, he claimed her lips in a ruthless kiss. Her tongue, no longer the least bit hesitant, thrust forward to meet his. He gripped the back of her head, taking her mouth the way he intended to take her body.

A raw, dirty mouth fuck.

Just as the kiss began to spiral out of control, he ripped away and she nearly fell into his lap. She panted at him with pink cheeks and a swollen mouth.

Satisfaction and primal lust sang in his blood. He swiped a thumb over her bottom lip. “You are gorgeous like this, Anna.”

Her mouth parted as though to speak but he scowled and the tension eased from her shoulders as her lips gently shut. “Put your hands behind your head and lace your fingers together.”

Her breasts jiggled, enticing him as she obeyed with uneasy, jerky movements. “Good.” He rubbed the last remaining wetness from her nipples with his thumbs, enjoying the way her pupils dilated and her breath came fast. “You’re very responsive.”

She bit her bottom lip as though trying to contain her wanton excitement.

He shook his head. “That’s a lost cause. There will be no hiding from me. I want every single reaction. Understood?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice tremulous.

He attached the clamp to one distended peak, moving the latch until she hissed. He watched her carefully, looking for signs of panic or extreme discomfort.

Pleased he saw none.

It was becoming more and more obvious she liked pain. How much still remained to be seen but based on her current reactions, he wouldn’t be surprised if her tolerance was plenty high.

She squeezed her lids shut tight and he asked, “Okay?”

“Would it matter if I said no?” she asked in a strangled huff.

“Quick learner. No, it would not.” He smiled. “Open those eyes.”

Her lashes fluttered open to reveal a glassy, aroused gaze. He perused the rest of her, taking in her breathing, those hard nipples. He reached between her legs and stroked her swollen pussy. “You’d have a better argument if you weren’t dripping wet.”

She gritted her teeth and said nothing.

He chuckled at her visible effort to repress whatever sassy retort hovered on her lips. She really was a quick study. He’d never have dreamed he could take her this far, this fast.

The hope was getting harder to ignore.

He repeated his actions to her other breast, securing the clamp, fiddling with the clasp until he had the desired tension.

Through it all she sat completely still, elbows back, keeping her position despite her distress. He gave the chain connecting the clamps a tiny tug.

She gasped.

He tugged harder.

Her head dropped for a moment before she righted herself. Pleased, he sat back to admire his handwork. “Damn, that’s a pretty sight.”

“It’s. Obscene.” She spit the words like bullets.

“Absolutely.” He gripped her chin in his hands. “And you’re loving every fucking minute of it.”

Chapter Eight

God help her but Mason was right. Anna had never felt anything close to this. The combination of pain, pleasure, excitement and agitation rolled into a lethal, explosive fireball in the pit of her stomach.

Over the course of the evening, Mason had become so deliciously dangerous. So absolutely commanding she wanted to melt into a puddle of pure need at his feet. Somehow he managed to push every sexual button she’d ever repressed and buried deep inside her.

Love swelled in her chest as boundaries she’d never known existed between them dissolved, leaving behind nothing but raw truth and naked, blazing desire.

She only hoped she’d survive.

Her muscles shook in effort to hold her position. She didn’t understand how this worked but the more she obeyed, the more he challenged, the hotter she got.

He smirked down at her. “Are you motivated, girl?”

She shivered. She was beginning to love when he called her that—girl—the way he said it, in that voice. That hard, low tone made her want to throw herself at his mercy and beg him to take her. She swallowed hard. “Yes, Mason.”

A sharp nod. “Good. Put your hands at your sides and swirl your tongue over the tip of my cock like you mean it.” A cool, controlled once-over that sent fire racing through her veins. “If I’m not satisfied, we’ll continue to adjust your motivation.”

Her arms trembled as she lowered them. Her nipples burned as she leaned forward, the unexpected sting making her wince.

He chuckled. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

It did. But the pain kept getting messed up in her brain, morphing into high-octane pleasure. There was something wrong with liking this but her body didn’t care about semantics. All it cared about was the demand for satisfaction.

“Now, girl.”

The command refocused her attention. She sucked in the musky scent of him, studying his large erection. The reddened tip. That steely length. She was going to do her level best to follow his instructions.

Her lips quirked—with the proper enthusiasm, of course.

She closed her eyes and swirled her tongue over the tip of his cock. The silky skin was hot. Smooth as silk but very hard. Using his example of an ice-cream cone, she licked over the slit, around the sides and back over the top.

It occurred to her, since the moment she’d arrived on the doorstep, this whole evening had been about her. Her comfort. Her feelings. Her satisfaction. She’d done nothing but take and now she had the opportunity to give something in return.

She intended to lavish him with the attention he deserved.

Her tongue slid along the mushroom head.

A low growl filled the room and his hand tangled in her hair. Pleasure at pleasing him, at making him moan, gave her the confidence she needed and she doubled her efforts.

She licked. Swirled. Ran her tongue up and down his length.

When she flicked her tongue along the slit, she felt his thigh muscles tense along her shoulders.

It excited her.

She scooted forward, the clamps stinging her nipples as her breasts swayed.

A low groan from above.

It was too much. Lust kicked into high gear.

Growing ever bolder, she flattened her tongue along the underside of his cock.

“Fuck.” A guttural, gravelly sound, his legs jerked. “That’s right, girl. Very nice.”

The praise was like flicking a match on gasoline to her already overheated blood.

She tried harder. Craving that encouragement. Needing his approval. His hips flexed. His cock jerked against her lips.

And she just kept getting hotter and hotter.

She licked him like a porn star. Teased. Tempted. Did everything in her power to rouse him to the same fevered pitch afflicting her.

Shameless, greedy desire grew to volcanic proportions.

Thought ceased. She sucked the tip in her mouth, moving down his length to engulf him. Just like the women she’d dismissed in those books, she became a slave to his pleasure.

Loving. Adoring. Desperate for the taste of him.

“Jesus Christ.” He tugged at the chain on her nipples and a sharp, searing pain radiated from the abused tips. She sucked in air through her nose as her inner core clamped.

Yes, yes, yes.
She wanted more. Needed more.

He tugged again.

It inflamed her. She sucked harder. Drew him in deeper. Raised on her knees, she cupped him and feasted on him like a glutton.

His balls tightened and she ran her hands over them, scraping her nails along the sensitive sac like she’d read about.

She became the temptress she’d never dreamed she could be.

He shuddered. Yanked hard on the chains.

She moaned around his thick girth. Why did that pain feel good?

Again, again, again.

This was not proper behavior for a first grade teacher. But she wouldn’t think about that now, she’d think about that later. For now, she’d think about the pleasure and the pain, and the desire.

Strong grip tightening in her hair, he pulled, forcing her mouth away. She fought to hang on. He gripped her neck and ripped her away. His cock, glistening from her mouth, bounced against his stomach.

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.