Chapter 29 #2
“God! It’s too much, Mason,” I croak. But that just makes him go harder. He thrusts his tongue inside me, then fucks me with it, thrusting it in and out. Like a hungry lion, he digs deeper and deeper, forcing me to smother him.
The pleasure pooling between my legs is so intense, a wave starts building inside me, hotter than ever, threatening to make me black out. But I can’t come. Not until he says. Even with me on top, he still owns me. His eyes smile as he enjoys my restraint, waiting for me to beg.
“Please…” I moan, one hand gripping the wood, the other digging into his skull.
He shakes his head and continues to suck, bite, lick, and fuck me with his tongue, while I dance at my peak, holding back my orgasm with every ounce of my will.
Usually, I can. The restraint, the wait, it makes the fall even sweeter.
But what this beautiful monster is doing to me with his lips right now… .
“Mason, I can’t… ple—”
He curls his tongue inside me, in a “come” gesture.
“Fuck!” I fall apart, flooding his mouth with my arousal. My head hits the headboard, kissing the wood, and leaving a long trail of saliva that runs down to the mattress.
But even as I crumble, he doesn’t let me go. His gaze holds mine as he takes his time licking me dry. Only when he has had his fill of me, he kisses my satisfied pussy and tugs me onto the bed.
I land flat on my back, holding my chest and breathing in harshly, like I just finished a workout.
“What are you doing to me?” I hyperventilate.
In an instant, Mason is on top of me, caging me in, already unzipping his pants and kicking them off, then his boxers. I know he isn’t done with me. He’s never done with me.
“Just building up your resilience, princess.” He leans in, spits on my neck, and scrubs the foundation off my skin.
“Don’t hide my marks,” he barks. “You belong to me.”
“No way. I’m not walking around wearing a necklace of your reds on my neck. I have gone through almost a whole bottle of concealer to hide these.”
Mason squints, appraising my face, before his jaw hardens.
“I see someone needs a reminder of ownership.” He grabs my thigh and flips me around. I suck in a sharp breath. “On all fours,” he growls.
The mattress sighs beneath me when I rise to my hands and knees. In one smooth motion, he yanks my top down, tearing the strap.
“Will you stop ruining all my clothes?” I complain as tethers of silk fall off me in pieces while he unhooks my bra and pulls down my skirt, until I’m before him, naked, fully exposed.
“I’ll buy you more,” he hisses, then grips my hips.
My thighs clench reflexively, and when the tip of his cock kisses my opening, my pussy lips part, inviting him. He grunts as he thrusts inside. All the way in.
“Fuck.” My head falls back, my spine bending into a deep curve as I take him, to the hilt.
His fingers dig into the back of my head when he starts pounding my pussy, hard and fast. As he usually does.
Diving into the deep. Not giving a chance to breathe.
Determined to touch every nook and cranny inside me.
Yet, I know he is holding back from truly unleashing himself on me.
That this is just a teaser of what my monster really craves.
And I’m thankful for that restraint. Because as much as I want to drown in Mason, I can barely survive what he is doing to me now.
My body shakes around his cock with every thrust as he starts fucking me at a maddening speed. My fingers clutch the silk sheets so tight, my knuckles go white. Even the solid frame of his bed complains, creaking beneath us in protest.
I moan and whimper when he rams my G-spot, but he slows down as soon as I get close.
“Fuck, stop doing that.”
“If you want to come, it’s going to cost you, princess,” he snickers.
“Wh-at?” I croak.
“What was the fucking pool incident, hmm?” he demands. “And don’t fucking lie to me,” he grunts and thrusts hard. A warning.
“It’s not what you think,” I murmur.
I knew he wouldn’t let it go. When Mason is feral like this, he doesn’t just want to own me now; he wants a copyright on my past, present, and future. All of it.
“Answer the question,” he says with another harsh thrust that makes me scream his name.
“We were kids,” I blurt out. He slows when I struggle to speak. “Nick poured barbecue oil into Grandpa’s pool, then blamed it on me. It was nothing.”
He chuckles and pulls me toward him by my hair, my back meeting his chest as he kisses up my neck, then bites my earlobe. “Good. The thought of you in a bikini with him has been melting my fucking brain,” he mutters and starts thrusting up into me.
Heat courses through me as my walls clench, struggling to take all of him in. He is so enormous, he fills me to my full capacity, then stretches me further.
A moan rasps out of me when I catch our reflection in the mirror. Both of us on our knees, sinking into silks, him with his T-shirt on and me stark naked.
Power. Dominance. Distance. Cruelty.
Two weeks of daily fucks, and I have still not seen him naked.
It’s criminal, really. To have memorized every muscle on his ripped chest through cotton, yet never having laid eyes on them once.
I reach for it, trying to pull it off, but he clamps both my breasts and crushes me into his ribs.
His cock pulls out to the tip, then slams in. Again. And again.
“Fuck,” he groans, extorting more moans from me. “I’ve been fucking you for weeks. How on earth are you still so fucking tight?”
Then he turns mad, and rams into me like a caveman, harder, faster, deeper.
My hand wraps around his neck. I bite my lip to suppress the screams tearing out of me while he pounds my core, making fire explode inside me.
My lower belly contracts and I come so hard, my entire frame trembles in his iron grip.
Still, he shows no sign of ending this sweet torment.
That’s the thing about Mason. If I didn’t beg him to stop, pleading and bargaining my soul, he’d never stop fucking me.
“Please,” I pant, palming his face and kissing his cheek. “I’m going to pass out, Mason. Tomorrow, do what you want with me. Plea-se… I’m beg-ging…” I moan.
“Christ, Eva, stop talking,” he grunts as I clench around him, strangling his dick, beckoning him.
“Fuck.” His eyes ignite.
The look on Mason’s face when he comes—the brown in his eyes turning into something molten and fierce, the way his jaw tightens, lips muttering claims—it’s a sight that stops the heart. I always secretly come a little when I watch him orgasm.
With an angry growl, he floods inside me, fills me and more, his warmth trailing down my thighs. Lost in him, weak in his arms, I close my eyes while he caresses my breasts and kisses the length of my neck to the tip of my shoulder.
Then all of a sudden, he shoves me down. My face hits the mattress as I land on my front, and his fingers trail up my thighs.
“What are you doing?” I breathe out heavily, my heart pounding.
“Fucking my babies inside you, princess. You missed some.”
“Fuck,” I whimper, burying my face in the sheets, lying tired and wasted, as he drives his fingers inside me, fucking me with his cum, fucking his cum into me.
“Eyes on me as I breed you, little dove.”
Mason lifts my head. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror as he scissors his fingers and watches me moan, determined to pull yet another orgasm out of me.
My punishment for making him come. My legs wiggle uselessly beneath him as he holds my gaze and brings me to my peak for the third time.
It happens then.
Between exploding heat and sharp pleasure.
Something in the mirror catches my attention. Something I would have noticed before if I weren’t being relentlessly fucked by him.
“Mason,” I mumble.
“Yes, little dove,” he snickers next to my head.
His gaze follows mine in the reflection of the mirror, seeing what I am, behind the door.
“What is my suitcase doing in your bedroom?”
“Our bedroom.” He kisses my forehead. “Welcome home, princess.”
An evil smirk splits his face as he curls his fingers inside me, bending me to his will, once again.
“Mason!” I scream.