With a half-smile she flushes before biting down into her full bottom lip.
“Ah, I see. You knew that and somehow thought your little secret afforded you some power maybe. I am going to have to inspect your underwear on a regular basis if you’re going to do these things.” There’s a hint of teasing but I mean every word of it. “And if I find that I disapprove of your choice I may just confiscate it.”
“Do you like it?” she asks ignoring mythreats.
My gaze is running over her standing before me in the one piece item of underwear made of a sensually sheer, black mesh-like fabric across her flat, firm stomach down her pelvis and covering her pussy, not that this item covers much, the mesh or whatever the fuck it is hides nothing from my eyes. I gaze up again, taking in the lace ‘v’ that finishes just above her naval and then I settle on her breasts barely being contained by underwired burgundy floral lace cups. God, she is sex on legs, and she is mine I realise, causing a smug smile to tug at my lips. Even the satin bow detail between her breasts is sexy. I still haven’t answered her question but assume my hungry gaze is confirmation of my like.
“Why? Why did you put this on?” I know what I want to hear her say but am unsure what I will do if she says anything other than that.
“For you,” she almost whispers as her wet, pink tongue pokes out from between her lush lips and brushes moisture across her lower lip.
Even without the two words I wanted so badly to hear this woman is like every man’s walking advert for sin, and with those words she is my own personal walking advert for sin.
“Lines like that make me so happy, baby.”
“How happy?” I don’t understand her coy expression until she expands with a loss of composure evident in her expression and her tone. “Happy enough to fuck me, with your mouth?”
Oh, fucking hell! She has just asked me to go down on her. To fuck her with my mouth, to eat her. Like it’s some chore for me. If only she knew just how awesome she tasted to me. I could live on her taste for the rest of my life and although it’s a shock I can’t deny that it’s anything other than the truth.
“It has poppers.” She reaches between her thighs, as if I need instructions. “I’ve never worn it before today. Sarah had one of those parties with sex toys and sexy clothes, so I had to buy something, but I didn’t go for the crotchless one…”
Her voice trails off as she realises she is rambling, but my mind is still swirling with thoughts of Olivia at a sex party and an indecent image of my girl standing before me in this number, crotchless.
“Open the poppers, Livy, and next time buy the crotchless one.” My tone has turned dark, possibly darker than I realise judging by her wide-eyed expression.
I hear the gentle popping sound; one, two, three, and then she pulls her hand free, leaning back against the wall, her thighs spreading for me, only me.
Chapter 16
Olivia
The expression Mase is currently wearing is one of unadulterated lust and desire and it’s for me. I can’t quite believe how brazen I am becoming with him. I have actually just asked him for oral sex. Not in the dark, in bed, where he can only imagine the mortification on my face, but in the middle of the day, in complete daylight, barely through my front door. It only takes three of his long steps until he is in front of me, within touching distance, but before I have the time to stretch forward to reach for him, he has dropped to his knees, his face level with my accessible sex.
As much as I crave the sensation of Mase’s mouth and tongue on me, my courage is beginning to wane. Yes, the longer he remains on his knees before me, immobile, I am bottling it. Surely he can sense my insecurity rising, yet he remains still and then he does something that turns me on and shames me in equal measures, he sniffs. He is inhaling my scent that even I am aware of. I am ready to bolt, even if it is only as far as my bedroom or the bathroom where I can reinstate my underwear and add some clothes. What was I thinking of when I asked for this? I know exactly what I was thinking of.
“Oh, baby,” I hear him say in the distance, breaking my thoughts and halting my plan to run as I gaze down and see his hands reaching for me; one hand pushing my underwear that is currently flapping around up my body until it is gathered at my middle while his other is pushing one of my legs out, effectively spreading me and then his head is leaning in, closer and closer so that I can feel his warm breath turning cool against my skin.
Something like a cross between a growl and a whine leaves my lips causing Mase’s concentration to be briefly diverted to my face. As his eyes lock on mine he smiles, a smug, arrogant smile that says I am his to do with as he sees fit and not only do I know it, I am grateful for it.
“I am really, really going to enjoy this and I intend to take my time, to savour every last drop of your pleasure.” He sounds even smugger than he looked a second ago. “Do you want that, Livy?” I realise that his idea of smug has barely got warmed up and now he is waiting for an answer, his breath still bringing the flesh of my sex and inner thighs to life while his eyes are on my face. “I said,” he begins to repeat but I interrupt him, keen to get past his delaying tactics, his tormenting of me.
“I heard. Yes, yes. I want that, please.” I hate myself a little for my pleading please at the end.
He really is conceited when he is lording this power and control over me and unfortunately for me, I actually love that about him. The concept of enjoying someone else, anyone else having this power over me should scare me. The sirens and alarm bells should be deafening me after all I endured when rendered powerless by others in the past and yet they don’t. I relish this, Mase mastering me like this, meaning that ultimately, no matter what I want, need, beg or plead for I will only ever get what he decides to give me, when he wants, which up to now has been everything I’ve needed when I’ve needed it.
“Yes,” I say responding to his question again, making him smile.
God, he is fucking beautiful, far more beautiful than any man I have ever seen, than any man should be.
“Tell me what you want again. Ask for it, baby.”
Arrogant, smug, conceited, egotistical, self-absorbed, narcissistic, just pick any of them or any alternative synonym in a thesaurus and I am convinced there will just be a picture of Mason Harding looking back from the pages.
“Mase, please, fuck me, with your mouth,” I cry, desperately hoping for his touch, but it’s not forthcoming yet.
“With pleasure, but first I need something from you.”
“What? Yes, anything.” I agree blindly, making him laugh at me.
