Page 10 of Mase
“Go get on the bed and spread your legs. I want inside that cunt.”
My eyes widen. His crude words are so abrupt, so filthy I don’t know whether to slap him or climb him like a tree. My feelings and body are at war with one another. Never in a million years did I expect to like a man talking to me like this, especially after my upbringing, but with Sinner, I revel in it, but above all, I want that orgasm. I want it, like yesterday. Each stroke of his tongue filled me with desperation and had a rush of heat sweeping through me. The fire became so strong, I felt I was going to combust, but the ultimate pleasure was withheld, and with that, a feeling of need consumes every cell in my body, forcing me to submit to his demands.
When I push open the bedroom door, I’m not surprised by the elegance of the room. White satin sheets cover the gigantic bed centered in the room. Crystal vases adorn the elaborate furniture, and there’s a huge oil painting of soft blues above the bed, giving the only splash of color in the room; everything else is white and silver.
My nerves hit me once again, and a ball of anxiety gathers in my throat, so I take deep breaths, then walk over the fluffywhite carpet and climb onto the bed. The luxury sheets and plush mattress make it easy to sink into, and I close my eyes, listening to the sound of him moving through the penthouse. My heart thuds with each step that he takes, and when the bedroom door opens, I squeeze my eyes closed tighter at the anticipation thrumming through my body like electricity.
“You look so innocent laid out for me,” he rasps, and I snap my eyes open and lift my head to see him.
He’s leaning against the doorjamb, and the intensity behind his eyes has deepened into a glare. When he takes another swig from the bottle in his hand, a wave of uncertainty washes over me.
I’m actually doing this; I’m going to fuck a stranger for money. I’m going to lose my virginity to a man for money. One who has drunk a lot of alcohol.
What the hell am I doing?
At least he’s good-looking.My heart thuds under his scrutiny. Not just good-looking, he’s insanely hot, and my body quakes to touch him, lick him, devour him, like he has me.
“You’re absolutely beautiful, yet I don’t think you know it.” He speaks so low I almost don’t hear, like he’s talking to himself. Then he pushes off the door, takes another gulp of the liquor, and places it down on the glass dresser, causing it to clink against the top.
“Are you ready for my cock, sweetheart?” He lifts his T-shirt over his head and drops it to the floor, and I choke on thin air.
Oh, sweet Jesus, the man is built, crafted to perfection.
Tattoos adorn his skin, painted on him so beautifully it’s almost heartbreaking how gorgeous he is. The look in his eyes is one of uncertainty, and he swallows thickly before darting his eyes away, but they’re just as quickly back on me, filled with heat and a newfound confidence that makes my hands curl into the sheets. The insecurity that was there only moments ago has dissolved, disappearing in the blinkof an eye, yet I can’t help but want to see it again, see all of him like he’s seeing me—open, exposed, and vulnerable. There’s a necklace hanging around his neck with a ring attached to it, and I hate the thought of it meaning something to him. Did he have a loved one who meant something special?
“Hold your pussy lips open. I want to see your hands stretching you wide open for me to take you while I slide into your tiny cunt,” he snaps, as if annoyed with me.
I swallow hard when he pushes his jeans and boxers to the floor, then steps out of them and kicks them to the side. His solid thighs are covered in tattoos, and I practically drool at the prospect of tracing them, all the way up to the one that appears to be curling around the back of his neck.
He climbs onto the foot of the bed, and his stomach muscles contract as he crawls over me like a wild animal. I follow the trail of trimmed hair down to his solid length. My body responds to the desire on his face, all the way down to where his thick, heavy cock hangs tall and proud, leaking a bead of pre-cum at the very tip.
My throat is husky from his rough thrusts. “I don’t think it’s going to fit,” I admit on a nervous swallow.
His lips tip up into a cunning smile, and he chuckles, his emerald eyes gleaming down at me as he holds himself off my body with his elbows.
“I’ll make it fit.” He smirks. “And you’ll thank me for it.”
That does nothing to ease my anxiety. If anything, it’s only heightened, and fear clutches my throat, causing me to blanch. When he nuzzles his nose into my hair and breathes me in, as if committing my scent to memory, I melt, widening my legs to accommodate him. I’m so unbelievably needy for his touch I forget all about my apprehensions.
“I’m going to come deep inside your pussy, sweetheart, so fucking deep, you won’t be innocent anymore. I’m going to dirty your innocent pussy up.”
Holy shit.Why does that sound like a promise, and why the hell does my clit throb on his words?
“Then I’m going to taste myself from inside you.”
My eyes widen further; he’s going to…
“Lick my cum from inside your slick hole.” He peppers feathery kisses down my neck and over my chest. “Then you’re going to open your mouth nice and wide.” He trails the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, and his tongue darts out over my nipple. “I’m going to spit my cum into your greedy little mouth.” As his thumb surges past my lips, I suck on it and lift my hips.
“Pl-please.”
His chuckle vibrates through me, and he removes his hand and wraps it around his cock. When he slaps at my clit, a wave of pleasure sweeps through me. “Please!” I beg, louder this time.
“That’s a good girl,” he croons, delighting me further. “Let me slip inside your perfect cunt.”
He directs the head of his cock to my opening, and I wrap my legs around his solid waist, anchoring him to me while my hands move between us to open my slick folds for him.
He inches inside, his muscles bunched, and he’s stretching me to the point of pain. I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out while spreading myself wider. Eating up the scene before him, he watches with hooded eyes. His locked gaze so profound it’s bordering on feral.
