Page 31 of Freaks Of Nature
My hand finds the door frame as I make the sharp turn. With Mason right on my heels, my fingers skip along thecounter, ignoring the drawer of cutlery. I need something bigger.
I draw the chef’s knife from the block, and when I spin back he’s already there.
“Now what do you think you’re gonna do with that?” he mocks, taking a step towards the outstretched blade in my hand.
Letting the tip bite into the skin below his jaw, he dares me to strike.
My fingers tremble. I can’t do it, and he knows it.
Eyes wide, I swallow, and he doesn’t miss his opening. Mason is on me in the next beat, his fist closing around my fingers on the knife’s handle as he whirls me around.
Wet hair smacks my face. He brings the blade’s cool tip to my throat. His other hand cuffs my left wrist, wrapping around my waist and caging me to his chest.
“Gotcha!” He presses his masked face to my cheek, his voice a low hum. “If you want to play with knives,” he taunts, dragging the blade carefully down the side of my throat, “all you had to do was ask.”
He keeps going lower, brushing the tip down my chest, flicking my nipple over the camisole I’m wearing. The thin cotton can’t hide the hard shape. Heat flares across my skin with his breath at my ear.
“Maybe next time.” He rips the knife from my hand and it clatters against the counter as he slams it down.
Pulling my arms back, he shifts my wrists into one of his hands and tucks something from his pocket to tie me up. I can’t see what it is, but it’s soft, like cloth, where he winds it around my elbows, locking them in a bent position.
When he’s done, my chest juts out with the forced arch of my spine. The strain on my shoulders is almost painful.
My vision blurs from another spin, and he dips before I can refocus on his mask. Restrained as I am, he throws me over his shoulder and returns to the bedroom.
The heavy thudding of his boots comes to a stop at the foot of my bed. My back hits the mattress, and an ache shoots through me at the contortion of my arms underneath my weight. I wince.
His amused huff carries to my ears. Panic lances through me, watching his hands go to his belt. Digging my heels and shoulder blades into the mattress, I scoot up the bed to get away from him.
I don’t make it far before he rips the strap through the loops, and his knees settle on either side of mine. Leaning over me, he slides it under, then fastens the belt around the meaty parts of my thighs so tight, the leather bites into my skin.
Fuuucck.
My spine arches on a whimper. It turns me on. My traitorous pussy salutes him with a pulse.
Another dark chuckle worms its way through my ear canal.He knows.
Mason slides his fingers into the gap between my thighs, feeling the damp spot that’s growing where my boy shorts meet my wet slit.
“Is that for me, baby girl?” His fingers curl over my needy flesh as he rubs me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth, denying him my reply, but my body betrays me again. My hips grind into his motion.
His left hand grips the front of my throat, palm forcing my jaw up as his fingers dig in at the sides.
My eyes fly open.
“I asked if that’s for me,” he repeats in a growl, his other hand dipping into my shorts to meet me skin on skin.
“Y-yes. It’s for you, Mason,” I whimper already close to coming.
“Say it again. I want my name on your lips when you come.” And then he spreads my slick seam, thrusting his fingers into me at a quickening pace.
Every muscle in my body tenses as the rush overtakes me. His thumb strokes my clit and my walls clench around him while his left hand continues to squeeze my throat.
My vision flickers. I’m at his mercy. My lips part with a plaintive moan, forming his name as my climax peaks.
“That’s it, baby girl.” Mason’s grip on my throat loosens, his voice hovering over me. “So eager to please, aren’t you? But we’re not done,” he adds, withdrawing his hands from me completely. “I like to keep score, and by my count, my brother is ahead. I don’t like it when he beats me.”
