Page 24 of Forbidden Mistress

Sitting stock still, I watch as he slides the dildo back inside Willow and fucks her with it until she comes three times. Her voice echoes off the walls, even with the ball gag caught in her mouth—which is saying something. Once he’s done, Hart takes a flip knife out of his pocket and cuts the ropes securing her wrists and legs. He removes her ball gag, and moves her mouth from side to side, stretching the muscles of her jaw.

“Leave the plug in,” he tells Willow.

“Yes, Master.” She scrambles off the bed, a little wobbly, and picks up her leotard from the floor, pulling it on in one fluid motion. She pulls the crotch of the leotard aside so the fluffy bulge of the butt plug is out. It doesn’t look ideal comfort-wise, but she doesn’t seem to care. She slips her heels on and teeters over to Hart.

But before she gets there, he turns his head toward her and says in a flat voice, “Leave us.”

Willow throws a long, questioning glance at me, pressing her lips together in silent protest. But without a word, she does as she’s told. Clearly she’s not happy with this turn of events. And as for me, my heartbeat has ratcheted up a few notches imagining Hart renewing his offer to get me off. And if I’ll have the strength to turn him down again.

I watch as Willow silently opens the door, steps out, and then shuts the door quietly behind her.

Hart and I are now alone. Again.

I rise from my seat and turn to follow her out. If he’s still angry about the squirming, I really don’t need to hear it again. I don’t want to give him the chance to fire me, either. Or dangle that temptation of getting me off again.

Leaving seems the best course of action.

He lets me get as far as reaching for the door handle before he calls out. “Come here.”

His voice is authoritative, commanding, and I feel compelled to obey. Turning on my heel, I walk back to him. When I stop, we’re practically toe-to-toe, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him. I wish I could see what’s underneath that mask. All I can glimpse are his eyes, but that’s not really enough to get the full scope of his expression. I need to see the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. His mouth.

“Yes?” I raise my chin pertly.

He pulls something out of his pocket. For a fifth of a second, I think it’s the knife, and my heart jolts a little. But it’s not. It’s a tiny remote control of some kind. He holds it to the side and presses a button. The second he does, the lights go out. It’s so dark, it’s pitch black.

I suck in a breath. “Why’d you do that?”

I feel him move, but I can’t see what he’s doing. “I’m going to touch you,” he says.

I swallow, wondering if his statement has anything to do with Obscura’s rule about consent. It was in my contract that no one could touch me without permission. But he’s not asking, is he?

I guess, if I wanted to object, this would be the time to do it. But I don’t. I’ve been wanting him to touch me since the moment I laid eyes on him.

“O-okay,” I say, but it comes out as more of an exhalation than a word.

And before I can even guess his next move, I feel his lips on mine. He has taken off his mask and is kissing me. That fact doesn’t even register for a full thirty seconds. And the kiss isn’t soft. It’s not light. It’s full of all the violence and passion that I feel as well. His tongue slips into my mouth and takes complete control, and my eyes drift closed, allowing myself to give into the sensation of him overpowering me.

His hand comes up to cup my head as he continues his possession. My God, but he can kiss. The flavor of him is so fucking amazing, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough. My arousal ratchets up so quickly, I could come from him kissing me alone.

In the darkness, I feel his free hand move up to my breast. He cups it in his large palm, pinching my nipple between his thumb and palm. The pain zips through me, trapping the breath in my lungs. How does he know exactly what I like? He seems to know how my body will respond before I do.

I can’t help but question if he’s this way with everyone, or just me? He seems to know Willow pretty well, but outside of their sexual encounters, they don’t seem affectionate.

My body melts beneath his kiss and the mastery of his hands. Already, my knees feel weak, and my pulse is racing so fast behind my ribs, I’m genuinely concerned I might have a heart attack. Actually, I’m not that concerned. At least I’d die experiencing pleasure in the hands of this hot-as-fuck man.

His mouth leaves mine, and he whispers harshly in my ear, “Is that what you wanted, Little Fawn?”

Chapter 9

Maskless

I sway on my feet, my eyes squeezed tight, even though the room is completely dark. Hart’s insanely masculine scent surrounds me, and the heat of his body makes me feel…safe, somehow. I tilt my head back and wait for his lips to find my skin. When nothing happens, my eyes pop open.

“I asked you a question,” he grinds out harshly. There’s no warmth in his tone, no charm. It’s almost…angry. Is he angry with me?

I lick my lips, unsure how to answer. Is this what I want? Do I even know? I mean, fantasy and reality are two different things, right? Now, confronted with Hart in the flesh, asking me what I want…yeah, that’s an intensity I’m not sure I’m ready for. Or am I?

I blink into the darkness. My mind is swirling, and unreleased sexual tension is tightening in my core like a Gordian knot.

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