Chapter 14 Two
I’m bruised. Two purple splotches mark my skin—one under my choker and one further down, beneath the collar of my shirt. The fresh one is lighter, still red, while the older one is a deep purple, impossible to miss if I didn’t hide it with the choker.
I press down on my marks, one by one, and a dull pain throbs at the surface of my skin. My lips part as I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. I press even harder, evoking a pulse from my crotch…
Startled, I withdraw my hand and finish brushing my teeth, and Mason’s words from last night ring loud and clear in my head.
“Think this can tide you over until tomorrow night?”
Apparently not. I need more. More marks, more of his voice in my ear, more of his cock nudging the back of my throat, more of his fingers in my ass…
Cheeks flaming, I spit out the toothpaste and wash my face with more aggression than necessary.
I need to clear my head and get myself ready for a day of acting like nothing is wrong.
To cover up my hickeys and put on a facade in front of Oliver that I can’t let crack.
I can’t let him know what I let his big brother do to my ass at night.
I can’t let him know the things I long for—the thoughts that cross my mind when I’m supposed to be focused on beating the next boss.
On the surface, I pretend nothing is out of the ordinary, but on the inside, I feel skittish and worried. Paranoid that every look Oliver sends me is a look of disappointment and betrayal. As if he already knows.
I make sure to spend as little time alone downstairs as I can, avoiding any confrontation with Mason. I succeed all day, but in the evening, when dinnertime comes around, Oliver pops off to the bathroom while I’m left in the kitchen, waiting for our frozen pizzas in the oven.
Of course, Mason chooses that time to emerge from the garage, all sweaty and shirtless, wiping his neck with a towel.
“Hey, puppy.” His hair is wet, and it’s not from the shower; it’s from sweat. He must’ve gone hard this gym session.
I try to ignore him, to look away, but it proves impossible when he stands by the kitchen counter, back turned to me, making a protein shake.
The smell of his fresh sweat fills my nostrils.
He smells masculine. Sharp. Tangy. It makes me think of…
of the times we’ve been close together. The times I’ve had my mouth on him.
The way he tastes. How his thighs tense up when he’s about to come.
How good he smells whenever I suck him off.
Not unclean, necessarily, but a musky, powerful smell that fills me up and makes me moan when I…
Before I know it, I’m growing hard under the table, and I groan and lean forward. Why does this always happen whenever he’s close?
“You okay there, puppy?” Mason asks, throwing a glance at me over his shoulder.
No, I’m not okay. There’s something wrong with me; simply smelling your sweat makes me hard. Simply watching you prepare that shake makes me want to get on my knees and crawl to you on all fours.
“It’s okay.” Protein shake in hand, he pushes off the counter and saunters up to me. “Only a few hours left.” He ruffles my hair and scratches me behind the ear, and when he leans in, he hooks his finger in the band of my choker, pulling me close. “Then you’re all mine, puppy.”
Fuck. A hot rush of embarrassed arousal shoots through me, and if I weren’t hard before, I sure would be now. Squeezing my eyes shut, I attempt to suppress my arousal to less acute levels.
It’s a little easier once Mason leaves, and I get busy flattening my bird’s nest of hair before Oliver returns from the bathroom. I like it messy, but not that messy. I suppose it’s a nice metaphor for the mess my life has become.
I was just supposed to enjoy my last summer with my best friend, but now I’m sleeping with his brother behind his back, and the words said brother whispered in my ear are all too true.
Only a few hours remain until I’m in his room again. Until I get his fingers again. Two this time. He promised.
Oliver and I enjoy our pizza in his room while we watch gaming streams on his PC, and through it all, I have to fight like hell not to let my thoughts linger and risk getting hard.
This is ridiculous. I really need to get off. I always get off when I’m with Mason, but unfortunately, it doesn’t help my predicament—it makes it worse. I can’t get enough, and daytime is torture, but maybe that’s just because he’s teasing me so damn much.
If he fucked me for real, maybe then my libido would calm down? I can only hope.
I also hope he won’t look at me with that softness in his eyes again. It did weird things to my insides last night.
Yeah, I hope he’ll just get me off, with two fingers this time, maybe let me suck his cock again—God, I hope he does—and then I can leave, unaffected by it all, with no strange warmth in my chest and no tingling feeling that makes me want to smile when I think of him.
A few hours later, I turn the handle of Mason’s door and step inside, careful as always not to make any noise. When I close the door and turn around, Mason is sitting on the bed, naked, scrolling on his phone. I stop awkwardly by the door, unsure what to do.
Mason puts his phone aside and gestures at me. “Come here, puppy.”
Grateful for the guidance, I approach as if I’m about to kneel, but Mason shakes his head and motions to his lap.
“Here. Clothes off.”
I strip down, unsure what he’s getting at. Once naked, I lift a leg as if to straddle him, but he shakes his head again.
“Legs on the bed, on your stomach, spread over my lap like this.”
Hesitantly, I kneel on the bed and sink my upper body down over his lap until my stomach is in line with his crotch and my rapidly swelling dick digs into his thigh.
It feels humiliating, like I’m some little kid who’s about to get spanked.
He’s not about to spank me, right? If he did, Oliver would surely wake up and hear us.
Mason palms my ass, stroking it gently. “Ready for two fingers this time, puppy?”
Cheeks flaming, I nod, keeping as still and pliant as I can. I wish he’d just get on with it, but things are never that simple with Mason.
“You can talk,” he says smugly. “You’re not a real puppy, are you?”
“Yes.” I grit the word out between clenched teeth, the feelings of defiance and submission fighting ever hot within me. But I want to come so badly; I want to be filled.
“One wasn’t enough last night.” Mason grabs the lube from the nightstand and pumps some into his hand. “You don’t have to worry; I’ll give you one more tonight. You’ll feel better.”
I shouldn’t admit that I’ll feel better by getting two of his fingers instead of one, but on some filthy, twisted level, it’s true, and the relief brings tears to my eyes. He knows me. Or at least he knows what I need. He’s a fucking mind reader, a sex god sent from hell, and I—
Oh. That’s cold. His fingers slip and slide into my crack again, like last night, and I push my ass up eagerly, whining. It just feels so good when he touches me. Sometimes, it feels so good I could cry. Like right now.
“Everything okay, puppy?” Mason asks. “Feels good, right?”
I nod and try to take my whining down a notch.
I’m being dramatic. It’s just sex—sex in a way I’ve never experienced, but still.
It’s just fucking. It’s just Mason keeping his free hand on my lower back, soothing me with soft strokes while the fingers of his other hand explore my crease.
When his fingers glide over my hole, I forget to breathe.
I feel like I’m about to come already, but I try my best to push the orgasm away. I want this to last, and I want his fingers inside me first.
Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long before a finger presses against my rim and pushes inside. Last night, it barely hurt at all from how relaxed I was, but this time, I’m a little more tense, and I feel it right away in a slight burn.
“Relax, puppy. You wanted this.” Mason pulls the finger back and then slides it inside once more.
I tremble in his grip, feeling his erection poke my belly. I feel helpless. Exposed. Desperate and out of control in the best and worst way. I squirm and arch my back, wanting more of his touch—more of everything.
“So impatient,” he says. “So eager. But it feels good, doesn’t it?”
I nod, eyes sliding shut. So good. For some reason, words escape me more often than not when we’re together.
It’s not like I’m consciously playing along with his puppy talk, but rather, it’s a way for me to push past the embarrassment and guilt of wanting what I shouldn’t.
It’s easier to let Mason take control. It feels better in more ways than one.
He strokes my back with his free hand in a soothing gesture. “Poor puppy. You just want to feel good. But no one has given you what you need until now, hmm?”
I nod again, teary-eyed.
“But I do. I’ll take care of you. I know just what you need. All you have to do is say ‘please,’ and I’ll give you one more finger.”
Please. My mouth tightens at the word, and it gets stuck in my throat. I will writhe and moan and whimper and come, but I won’t beg. That’s my only limit. Mason already holds so much power over me; I’m not ready to give him even more.
But when his finger twists inside me and finds that delicious spark of pleasure, I jerk in his lap, and my cock leaks a wet spot of precum against his thigh.
“So responsive,” Mason says, voice pleased. “Such a hungry little hole you have.”
I whimper, rocking back and forth, chasing his finger.
“Uh-uh,” Mason says, a warning hand on my ass. “Keep still, puppy. Just let yourself feel it.”
“I am feeling it,” I gasp, the frustration getting to me. “I want more.”
“And you’ll get it; you just have to beg me for it. Just say ‘please.’”
I gnash my teeth, feeling feral, feeling hungry. “Just do it. Just give me one more.”
“No demands, little puppy. That won’t get you what you want.” Mason pulls his finger out of me.
“Noo, wait!” I whine, too loudly. “I mean…” I grow still, submissive, and Mason puts his finger back in, but he just holds it there, waiting for what I’m about to say, what I’m trying to say, what I shouldn’t say.
“Yes, puppy? I’m waiting.”
“One more,” I grit out. “P-Please… One more.”
Mason’s chuckle is low and dangerous as he withdraws his finger, and when his touch returns, it’s thicker, headier.
Two fingers this time. As they sink inside, I feel my hole widen, struggling to take them in a split second’s worth of pain before the pain turns to pleasure, and I can’t take it anymore.
My hips jerk helplessly as my cock twitches and shoots all over Mason’s muscular thigh.
All the while, he keeps his fingers inside, twisting them, prolonging my orgasm to toe-curling levels.
When I finally stop shuddering and moaning, he slips his fingers out and strokes my hole softly on the outside.
“There you go. Felt good?”
“Mm-hmm.” I give a breathless sound of assent, turned into a gooey puddle of pleasure in his lap. I can barely think, let alone speak.
Mason pets my hair for a good long while, sliding his fingers through my messy locks. He scratches behind my ear, too, like he did in the kitchen, and it makes me feel weird. A good kind of weird. A weird that leaves me whimpering and aching for more.
“Good puppy,” he croons. “Well done.”
Well done? I have a hard time wrapping my brain around the words. I didn’t do anything except… except for coming. Is that what he means?
I lean into his hand, wanting more scratches, more praise, but he withdraws it soon and nudges my hip.
“Now sit up, puppy. It’s time for your treat.”
A little dizzy, I lift myself off his lap and crawl backward until my mouth is level with his cock.
I moan as I take the head between my lips.
Mason leans sideways so he can still stroke and stimulate my hole while I suck him off, and like that, it doesn’t take long until he grunts and bucks his hips, and his hot cum fills my mouth.
I keep suckling at his softening cock until he taps the small of my back.
“Come here, puppy.” He motions to his lap, and I climb over his hips, straddling him.
In this position, with him sitting upright and me seated in his lap, we’re close enough to kiss. I look at him through half-lidded eyes, feeling shy all of a sudden as my gaze flicks to his lips.
He doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he leans in and sucks at my neck.
I gasp as he sucks harder than ever before, teeth sinking in, inviting pain alongside the pleasure.
It goes on for ages. Just when I feel like he’ll never let me go, like he’s as obsessed with it as I am, he pulls away and looks proudly at the marks on my shoulder and neck.
“You look so pretty like this,” he says. “All marked and bruised for me.”
Those words, along with his hand at the back of my ear giving me scratches, make my cock twitch between my thighs. “So responsive. So eager.” His words echo in my ears, and I blush and look away.
Mason hooks his thumb in the band of my choker, keeping me close. “Think you can take three next time, puppy?”
I have a hard time registering what he’s saying, still feeling floaty and not quite like myself, but then it dawns on me.
Three. Three fingers. Then I’ll get his cock.
Like last night, he helps me get dressed, and as I step into my boxers, he lets me put a hand on his shoulder for balance. When I’m all done, he pets my hair with both hands for a while before he slides his palms to my cheeks and tilts my head up.
His expression is impossible to read, but I see a whisper of that softness in his eyes from yesterday. He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to speak, but then he closes it, and all he tells me before he sends me on my way is, “Sweet dreams, puppy.”
When I get back to Oliver’s room, I fall into a heavy sleep, thinking of the number three.