Page 73 of Masks and Mishaps

He ignores my kicks like they’re pesky fruit flies and climbs onto the bed. It dips with his weight as he straddles my body, and he tugs my arms over my head. I fight. I thrash. I resist.

It has literally no effect.

Pinning my wrists with one hand, Dalton looms over me. He drags his gloved hand over my face, across my neck, and stops at my breasts.

“I can fuckingsee them,” he grits, pushing his fingertip underneath the mesh bra and snapping the strap. “You’re showing these perfect tits off to anyone who pays? It’s that easy to get a piece of you?”

“I’m sorry,” I lie, making my words breathless and pleading.

“These tits are mine,” he continues, cupping and covering one with a full hand and a proprietary grip. “How many times do I have to remind you that your body is mine? Thatyou’remine?”

Without waiting for a response, he tugs my brand-new bra down, splitting the seams. My bare breasts spill over the top of the stretched fabric, and he slaps them—left, right, left again—before he catches a nipple and pinches it like he’s proving a point.

I cry out from the surge of pain and pleasure. “Let me go,” I plead. “I’ll cover them—I’ll never take them out again.”

When Dalton releases my breast, the blood swells back into my nipple, sending a rush of intense sensation that makes my back arch and my lips part. As soon as he sees my open mouth, he fists a handful of my hair, pushes my head forward, and grabs my breast—because he wants me to lick my own tit.

It’s a stretch, but I can get my own nipple into my mouth when he forces them together like this. Then I’m doing it—I’m sucking my own nipple, lapping at my own areola—something I’ve never been able to do before tonight.

“Horny,” he muses, maintaining his unforgiving hold on my folded body. “You’ll suck anything I put in that needy mouth. Will you suck a stranger? Will you suck any cock that breaks into your bedroom, even if you can’t see his face?”

I groan around my nipple, and my pulse has hit a crescendo of steady, rapid beats. It’s unreal how well he’s doing—a natural performer.

Without warning, he drops me like I don’t matter, and my breast escapes my lips. “Don’t move,” he warns as he climbs off the bed. Then he stands between me and the camera and gets naked.

Jesus.I’mnot even naked yet.

He tosses his pants and lets his arms hang at his sides, and I can’t help but gawk. The defined muscles covering his figure speak to hours in the gym, a constant body in motion, the flash and flurry and chaos that is Dalton Cavendish. It’s the body of a man who ran to me, who protected me—and can also fuck me into a mattress or crush me if he feels like it. To make myself vulnerable to a body like this is an act of trust.

Of course I trust him though; I trust him with my life—and I don’t say that about many people.

He tugs off one of his leather gloves and shakes it out as he walks toward me. “Open,” he instructs, thwapping the leather against my closed mouth.

I part my lips hesitantly, forcing myself to glare at him—and it has no effect.

“Let’s stretch out that mouth first,” he muses. “Open wider for Daddy.”

Daddy.

My jaw flies open, and Dalton shoves the glove in, filling my mouth with leather. The earthy taste overwhelms my senses, and I cough around it, but I don’t protest. I want him to be proud.

“Good fucking girl. See how nice it is when you’re good for me?” He slides his thumb around the edge of my mouth, wiping away the drool leaking from the corner. “Up.”

While I scramble to my knees, Dalton lays down. His cock is engorged and mouthwateringly thick, and I crawl over him so I can suck while he shows my pussy to the camera.

“Shit,” I hear him say, and I look back—and to my horror, I realize I accidentally knocked his mask off.

“Fuck,” I say, spitting the glove out of my mouth and diving on top of him. I slam my hands onto his face to cover him.“Oh my god.”

“Baby,” Dalton murmurs, but my hands are muffling his mouth.

I can’t find the mask on the bed, so it must be on the floor. Frantic, I scoot my body up, letting my thighs block Dalton’s face from the livestream while I lean over, searching.

“Sweetheart.”

“I’ll find it,” I assure him, bending over the edge of the bed and pawing on the floor.

He chuckles. “Baby, you’re covering my face with your pussy.”

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