Page 38 of Masks and Mishaps

“If you break any of the terms in the contract, we automatically dissolve our arrangement. I would no longer let you film me, and you—as a breach penalty—would have to spend a week with me at my mother’s ancestral home in Rhinebeck.”

What the fuck. “You’re lying.”

“Please. Why would I lie about something I want so badly?”

My knees snap shut. “Give me the contract.”

Moving slowly like he has all damn night, Dalton conjures the contract from his briefcase once more. I skip the boilerplate language and go right to the middle section: the terms. Sure enough, the Rhinebeck clause is in there, but two other words catch my eye. They’re innocuous—seven letters altogether. Most people wouldn’t know what they mean, but I’m a sex worker. I know exactly what these words mean, and they’ve never been on my radar—until today.

“You put a free-use clause in here,” I blurt out. “Free-use?You fucking snake.”

“I did,” Dalton confirms—and his nod is shameless. “I put it in, andyou signed it. So, if I go to you in the bullpen with my dick out, you’ll suck it or ride it—or we’re going to Rhinebeck.”

“Screw you,” I snap, throwing the contract at him. “Are you punishing me?”

“No, Essie.” He puts his face near mine—close enough to kiss. His hand grips my jaw, squeezing. “Like you, I’m getting what I want. You want my cock, and I want you. Not just your pussy—although I will admit my desire could warrant a restraining order—butall of you:your body, your time, and your affection.”

“But you said you didn’t want to be together,” I protest. “You said we couldn’t.”

“And we still can’t. But for four weeks, I’m going to take as much of you as I can. I’m going to fuck you. Love you. Own you.” The corner of his mouth rises. “You’re mine.”

And his hand slides around the back of my neck, cradling my head and pulling me toward him once more. When I’m close enough to see the light tips of his eyelashes, I turn my head.

Dalton’s hand tightens. “You’re not going to kiss me?”

“If you want it, you can order me,” I snap.

His hand clasps my jaw again and makes me face him, and when he gets a glare in return, his eyes narrow. “Fine. I was going to go easy on you, but not anymore.”

“Screw you for that too. Don’t ever go easy on me.”

Dalton cocks a brow, but he doesn’t say a word. Watching me, he lowers to his knees. His motions are slow and controlled, but there’s an inherent urgency in his movements.

He wants this so much.

When he’s kneeling on the hardwood floor, he places a hand on each of my knees and parts my legs in the most agonizingly slow series of motions I’ve ever witnessed. His eyes don’t leave mine.

“Have you ever had a free-use arrangement?” he asks once my legs are spread to his liking. As he waits for my response, his fingertips glide over the bare skin above my knee. “People mistake fucking for something purely carnal, but it’s a mental game too.” His hand reaches my pussy and he clicks his tongue. “Sweetheart, I don’t know if I should love or hate how you flit around this dorm with your cunt out.”

Cunt. Nobody says the word quite like he does.

“Why aren’t you filming?” he questions, shooting me a warning look.

“I want you to finish speaking first.”

“I don’t finish. I’m going to talk you through itevery fucking time.” He winks. “Press record.”

I do.

“When you use someone for their body,” he goes on, sliding his fingertip along my entrance, teasing me with the promise of a thick finger, “they start to crave it. Need it. It becomes less about the pleasure and more about the usefulness.”

Palm up—cocky and assured—he pushes his finger inside…and pulls out so quickly that I may actually post his social security number on the dark web to get him back.

He smirks. “You’re going to become addicted to the feeling of me needing you to get off. You’ll love the orgasms—but you’ll be obsessed with how badly I need to put every single drop of my cum in you.”

Before I can respond, Dalton presses his tongue to my entrance and licks upwards on a slow path to my clit. His lips are gentle but deliberate, and they surround the sensitive bud before he sucks with the barest pressure.

A moans slips from my throat, and Dalton looks up at me. “Good girl,” he says before he moves back to my entrance.

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