Page 64 of Forbidden Mistress

“Wha—”

Before I can even get the question out, his fingers slide down to my asshole, and his finger teases the rim before he boldly slides his forefinger deep inside. I nearly come out of my skin, my hips launching off the mattress, but he holds me down with his free hand. “Shhh, shhh,” he soothes. “The pressure and heaviness will fade.”

It doesn’t hurt. It just feels strange. Awkward.

Once I’m settled again, Hart takes the string of metal pearls and slides them into me. Honestly, it feels more comfortable than his finger, so I relax a little.

“These are beginner beads,” he says. “They’ll heighten your pleasure. Has a man ever taken you there?” He touches my asshole again.

I swallow heavily and shake my head.

“Mmm. I’ll enjoy being your first then.”

I swallow. Never in my life did I think I would ever have beads up my ass, but you only live once, right? Also, I’m coming to learn that, when it involves pleasure, Hart is usually right.

“Okay, if you say so,” I answer, my hips twisting as he threads the entire string of cold beads into me.

When he’s done, he lowers himself onto the mattress, his large body hovering above mine. I can’t see his cock, but I can feel it heavy and hard against my inner thigh. My core is wet again, my clit buzzing with energy, and combined with the heaviness of the beads inside me, I feel like I might spontaneously combust.

I lift my hips and tilt my head back. “Please, Hart.”

He lowers his head and brushes his lips lightly against mine, then reaches between us and teases my entrance with the tip of his finger. He lowers his head and whispers in my ear, his mask cold and hard against my cheek. “I’m going to pump another load into this sweet pussy. Then, the next time, I’m going to take your asshole. I can’t get enough, Little Fawn. You are my obsession.”

“Yes,” I say on a breath, arching my hips up.

My eyes flutter closed, and I can’t help it—I hear Liam’s voice, not Hart’s. It’s Liam talking dirty to me. It’s his large body hovering above me. His cock that’s poised to push inside me. Hart is just a vessel—a vehicle for the fantasy that’s evolving in my head.

Shifting his hips slightly, he slides his cock into me. I groan, relishing the feeling of him fully seated inside me once more. The metal beads create a delicious kind of pressure that just add to the onslaught of sensations engulfing me.

Grabbing his shoulders, I hold on for dear life as he thrusts into me—hard and fast—and I cry out in sheer bliss. He feels so damn good, and I’ve learned in the last few weeks that I like it rough. Really rough. The way he gives it to me. His thumb finds my nipple, and he flicks the sensitive peak as he plows into me. My body comes alive beneath him, igniting an ember of passion that soon becomes a wildfire.

“You are so fucking perfect for me,” he growls into my ear. “You feel so good. So hot and so fucking tight.”

His thrusts become longer, harder, and more focused. I writhe beneath him as his pelvis slams against my clit, stimulating it to the point of agony. Passionate agony that’s amplified by the anal beads. Within a few strokes, I can already feel my climax building. It’s like a ball of energy, starting in my clit, moving outward, and growing in intensity.

I moan and dig my nails into the skin on his back. Liam’s face flashes in my mind as pure, undiluted bliss explodes inside me, pulsing through my entire body. Enraptured, I call out hoarsely, “Liam. Oh, fuck yes. Fuck me, Liam.” I scream his name until my throat stings. My channel tightens around Hart’s shaft, and he lets out a loud, primal groan, then stiffens—filling me with his come and subsequently coaxing yet another, smaller orgasm from my exhausted body.

When we’re both completely spent, Hart pulls out of me, quickly reaches down, and tugs on the string of anal beads, pulling those out. Then, without any word at all, he pushes up from the bed, turns, and walks to the bathroom.

Holy shit.

Now that I’m in my right mind, I’m mortified. I called out another man’s name in the middle of sex. Fuckkkkk. That is literally the worst thing I could have done.

And to make it worse? The man I called out for is my stepbrother. What the hell could have led me to do such a stupid thing? Liam and I have never even… I swallow, my heart racing. What does this mean? Does it mean anything at all or is the worse possible Freudian slip at the worst possible time?

Hart is gone for nearly ten minutes, and when he returns, he’s fully dressed, wearing black slacks and a white, unbuttoned dress shirt. But of course, he’s still masked. He gently tosses me a warm washcloth and it lands on my stomach.

I grab the washcloth and sit up. “Thanks. Um, Hart, I, uh—”

He interrupts me before I can apologize. “I’m going to head down to the coffee shop downstairs. I have work I need to do.”

His tone is stiff and cold. He’s definitely pissed. And I can’t blame him. When he marked me with his knife earlier, he said I was his—and now I’ve fucked everything up by calling out Liam’s name. I can only imagine how I’d feel if he’d said Willow or some other woman’s name—maybe even his mystery love—while he’d been inside of me. I swallow.

And he’s going down to the coffee shop in the middle of the night? But when I glance at the clock, I see that it’s after 5 a.m. Shit. We never even slept, and yet, I’m so keyed up there’s no way I’ll sleep, even though my entire body aches from fatigue and all the rough sex.

“Sure,” I say, sheepishly. “Maybe when you get back, we can talk.”

With a terse nod, he finishes getting dressed, then takes his computer bag and leaves the room. I imagine he’ll remove his mask as soon as he gets in the elevator, and I half wonder if I should follow him, just so I can finally get a glimpse of his face as Hart, and not as Lucien. But I quickly dismiss that idea. I’m already in enough shit as it is. I don’t need yet another reason for him to be pissed at me.

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