Page 40 of Scary In Love
I breathe deeply, certain the only thing he’ll hear is my rampant heartbeat.
“Lungs sound clear.”
Normally I wear sports bras for extra support, but the one I chose tonight is lacy and sexy, and pushes my breasts tight and high. Mason tugs the cups down over my nipples and gasps.
“No fucking way.”
He stares down at me for a long time before picking up the dictaphone.
“Patient has pierced both nipples, and currently sports silver barbells.” He clicks it off, lowers his voice, and hovers his fingers over them. “Can I? Please?”
“I might die if you don’t.”
“Put your arms above your head for me.”
His touch is achingly tender at first. Rolling over one, then the other. I got them for me, and they feel amazing to play with, though the men I’ve been with before have shown little interest.
He slides the bars back and forth, the sensation sparking a new flood of heat between my legs.
“Those are so fucking hot.”
He’s never asked if I had any piercings. I wouldn’t have lied if he did, but I’m pleased I could surprise him.
With his hands behind his back, he bends over and angles his head to lock eyes with me while he sticks out his tongue and circles it.
I watch him take it between his teeth and tug hard, sending a zip of pleasure shooting down my spine.
When I think he’s about to move away, he spits on the other nipple, spreading it around with his gloved fingers. He examines me closely, pulling and pinching at my heavy, aching tits. I’ve tried to have nippleorgasms before, unsuccessfully. Maybe I just needed the help of a hot fake doctor.
Mason loses himself in playing with them, nipping me, sucking so hard I see stars. All I can do is lie there and take it, gripping the top of the bed until he tears himself away with a pained groan.
I watch him adjust the front of his trousers, fix his tie, and return to his observations. He clears his throat and stands tall.
“It’s possible the patient’s sickness is infectious. She appears to have the ability to possess those around her with her deviance. Future practitioners should be extra careful when examining her.”
I press my lips together, giddy at knowing I’m having this effect on him, and I’m not even doing anything.
“Let’s get your legs into position, and we can get started.”
We haven’t even started? What the fuck is he going to do to me now?
He leaves my chest exposed, and I fight the urge to cover myself up.
Mason steps between my legs and helps me lift my ankles onto the stirrups, securing them with a wide, buckled restraints. They’re not tight, but I’m well and truly stuck. He then brings out a little rolling stool and positions it at the foot of the bed. Shame heats my skin knowing his face is level with my pussy.
“Ah, we might have a small issue with access here,” he says to himself, rifling through the implements on the trolley. “Hold still, miss. This won’t take a second. I just need to…”
He moves the lamp to one side, directing my gaze to where he slides surgical scissors between two gaps in my fishnets and neatly snips at the side of my panties. He repeats it on the other side and tilts his head.
“I need to make a few more incisions here,” he says, dragging the sharp tip of the scissors down the seam between my legs. He cuts slowly, severing one section at a time, and I feel the gap pinging wider apart with each snip.
Even half in shadow, his face is the picture of professionalism. “We can reimburse you for these if you complete the paperwork at reception.”
He swaps the scissors for something else and slips them beneath the lace that’s already damp and sticking to me. Cold metal grazes against my hot flesh, and I yelp. The leg restraints rattle, and he glances at them with a perverse satisfaction.
“Lift your hips a little, please.”
It’s tricky at this angle, but I manage, and he yanks hard, pulling my underwear out through the slit he cut open. He lifts them up to his face, examines them, and drops them onto the tray before returning to his dictaphone, and his assessment of me.
