Page 49 of King of Sinners

I’m panting now, desperate for him to touch me more.

“Are you certain you’re prepared to take your punishment today?”

My sex gives a throb of anticipation at his words. “Yes.”

“Like I said, it’s been a very long day.”

I look into his dark brown eyes, so dark they appear almost black in this light. “I’m not afraid of your touch, Mason.”

I’ve been afraid of Mason. I was scared of what he’d do to me, what he’d threatened. But even two years ago, when he’d carried me from that club, I’d held onto him like a lifeline. I’ve never been afraid of Mason’s hands.

It’s an interesting revelation as Mason stands, kicks off his shoes, takes off his belt, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Come here, Charlotte.”

I rise up from the floor, not scared, but not exactly rushing either. Am I going to like whatever he’s about to do? Not?

I did ask for this, but now that the moment is here, my stomach gives a strange swoop, as I stop in front of him.

He reaches out with both hands to grasp my waist and then slides them over my hips, tracing my body. The touch is soothing, gentle, and I know in that moment, whatever we do, it will not be anger that motivates Mason. I further relax, wishing that I could press against him, wrap my arms around his neck and drop my cheek to the top of his head.

I want to touch him so much I ache, but I keep my hands at my sides. His grip tightens on my hips to one that is firm and then I’m tumbling into his lap, belly down, my head hanging over one side of his knee, my legs over the other, my rear in the air.

I know what he’s going to do, but I’m not worried. In fact, I feel myself getting wetter.

He slides the thin fabric of my negligee up to my waist, the thong exposing both my cheeks. “Next time you have a problem, what are you going to do?”

“Talk to you,” I whisper.

“And are you going to confront a man on your own again?”

“No.”

He skims his fingers over the back of my thigh. “Good girl.” And then he traces over the rounded flesh of my bare cheek. He lifts his hand and suddenly, his palm comes down with a hard stinging smack.

I jump, the spank unexpected, the pain reverberating through me. But with it, comes a pulsing pleasure, an ache between my legs that only intensifies as has hand comes down again, and then again.

I lose count. I think maybe ten. It doesn’t matter because when he gives me the last smack, his hand immediately slides between my thighs, rubbing my seam through the cloth of my thong.

The pressure is so good, I cry out and the moment he presses against my clit, I start cumming.

But I barely finish the orgasm and he’s flipping me over. I’m putty in his hands as he stands with me cradled in his arms, spinning around to lay me on his bed.

He bends over me and I twine my fingers into the waves of his hair, so glad to be touching him again. The thong is off, brushing down my legs as he moves down my body and my fingers slip from his hair.

But the moment he gets the underwear off my toes, he’s climbing back up me, his shoulders parting my thighs as he grabs my hips and lifts me up to give me a long lick.

Panting, I give a low needy moan. It feels so good and the visual of his large hands grasping my hips and waist, his face between my legs is only making me hotter.

I reach for his hair again, pulling him closer but also just wanting to touch him.

I want this man to be mine. Always mine. My eyes close and my head falls back as I feel another orgasm building.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Mason

I look up at Charlotte, her thighs trembling around my head, her hips arched to get more of my tongue, and I know that I am well and truly screwed.

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