Page 6 of Mase
The blonde hair is not what I askedIndulgencefor, but fuck me, do I like it.
Her pale skin is begging me to mark it, and my cock twitches at the thought.
Fuck me, where the hell did that come from?
Her cheeks pinken as she watches me with bright-blue eyes, causing my chest to restrict at the intensity behind them. She’s stripping me bare, just as I am her. It’s like I am looking into her soul, seeing her own anxiety and nervousness, her innocence. She’s natural, with an edge of girl next door about her, she wrings her hands in front of her, giving away her discomfort.
When I said I didn’t want someone like my wife, I wasn’t quite prepared for this. The girl standing in the hallway is the complete opposite, and my cock is well and truly on board with the prospect.
She’s in a white sundress, and her tits are on display beneath the fabric. They’re on the smaller side, but not tiny; they fit her small frame perfectly. The thought of feeling the naturalness of them has my cock weeping. I can just make out her panties beneath the fabric of the virtually see-through dress, and I’m happy to see they’re plain and not the skimpy lace, just as I requested. Innocence personified.
My hand trembles as I reach for my bottle of whiskey, and if I even attempt to pour myself another glass, it’s going to end up all over me, so I take a swig of the bottle, hoping I look cooler than I feel.
“Do you want a drink?” I grunt out. “If you do, there’s a bar over there.” I tilt my head toward said bar, mainly because I’m so damn nervous I don’t have it in me to walk, let alone make her a fucking drink.
She shakes her head, and it only emphasizes the blonde locks as the silky braid sways against her shoulder. “No, thank you.” She rolls her hands in front of her, and I want to do something to comfort her, but I can’t help but wonder if this is all part of the innocent act, what I’m paying for. My teeth grind together, another fucking manipulative woman.
Jesus, I’m such a fucking hopeless idiot. I scrub a hand over my head, hating the way my demons consume me. Then, with a heavy sigh, I lock gazes with her again.
“Are you going to come and service me? Or do I need a fucking refund already?”
She jolts, and I imagine my sharp tone and harsh words have hit her hard, but it’s the truth, a deep-seated hatred of truth burning deep inside me. She’s essentially a prostitute, an actress; this isn’t a fucking date. It’s a fuck I’ve paid for.
And I intend to treat it as such.
I will not get drawn into another woman’s web of lies.
Nope. I’ll use them—like they use me.
SUMMER
“Are you going to come and service me? Or do I need a fucking refund already?”
His words hit me like a truck. My stomach tightens, and I try to contain the hurt lancing through my chest. After all, this is my own choosing. I’m selling myself, my virginity, to be precise, and as much as I’d have liked to save it for someone who means something to me, at least this way, I’m choosing who I’m losing it to. So, with that thought in mind, I lift my chin, straighten my shoulders, kick off my ballerina flats, and walk toward the handsome bastard wearing a smug grin on his face.
Saintly Sinner is his username, and my god, he has sinner written all over him. Broad shoulders are housed in a white T-shirt that stretches over his muscles. Tattooed skin can be seen beneath the fabric, and I long to explore it. His cropped hair is longer on top, a light shade of brown, maybe you could even class it as dark blond, and I can’t help but smile when I imagine what beautiful blond babies we would create. The thought brings me to an abrupt stop, and I shake my head.Summer, you idiot, don’t be so childish.
He takes another drink from the whiskey bottle, then swipes his hand over his mouth and studies me.
Ignoring the pounding of my heart, I saunter toward him, hoping the swing of my hips looks seductive and not as hideous as I feel.
His thick thighs are parted wide, and his green eyes dance with mirth as I look him up and down.
There’s an obvious bulge in his jeans, and excitement rushes through me at imagining sitting in his lap and rocking myself over his hard length.
I’m not sure where the hell that thought came from, but my god, do I like the prospect of it.
“Fuck,” he grunts and shuffles from left to right, then takes another drink, and my mouth falls open at the thought of him realizing I was daydreaming about his cock.
I tilt my head. I’ve heard stories about men not being able to keep erections due to alcohol intake. I wonder if he’ll have this problem. Judging by the copious amount missing from the bottle, he’s drunk a lot already.
“Get over here and put that mouth to work, sweetheart,” he growls, popping open his jeans, his gaze never wavering from mine.
I plant my feet in the space between his legs, and before I know what I’m doing, my knees hit the plush carpet. Taking a deep breath, I steel my shoulders, and the scent of his bergamot cologne is so intoxicating I sway beneath his scrutiny, so my hand lands on his thigh to steady me.
Jesus, I want to lick him.
Saintly Sinner tangles his fingers in my hair, tugging my head closer, and with his other hand, he frees his thick, angry cock. I’ve never seen one so close before, so I swallow back the trepidation building inside me. It’s girthy, rock hard, and long with a stream of pre-cum sliding down his shaft.
