Smack!
“You don’t parade it in front of other men.”
Smack!
“Understood?”
“No,” I snap, even as every strike makes me wetter. “I’ll dress how I want.”
“Is that so?” Mason snickers, tracing the ladle between my legs. “It seems you need a lesson in obedience, little dove.”
“Do your bes-t.” My last word ends in a gasp when he drives the handle inside me. I clench around the cold metal, sending a shiver through me. Then he pulls it out and shows me the glistening handle.
“Good girl. Already fucking soaked for your king,” hegrowls and places the handle between my legs, circling my opening.
I whimper, lowering my head, hiding my face, but he pulls it up.
“Tell me, little dove, do you want me to carry you to our bed, and fuck you like my queen or use you to empty my balls in this pretty hole?”
My teeth dig into my lips. I refuse to answer his lewd question even as he holds the ladle handle at the verge, teasing, cruelly.
“You are going to have to use your words, princess. I’m not a mind reader.”
But he is. Mason knows my mind and my body better than I do. He knows what I want, yet is determined to torture me for it. Not for long. He is moments away from unleashing himself on me. His madness wins any day, but his patience is so short, it barely deserves a unit of measurement. I purse my lips and stay silent.
Mason throws the ladle at the door. It clanks against the wooden floor, then he spanks my wet pussy with his hand, his palm hot against my cold folds. The sensory overload overwhelms my senses.
“Answer me,” he barks and slaps my pussy lips again.
“Here,” I scream.
“Here?” Mason asks, humor returning to his voice. “And why would a princess like you want to be used by someone like a slutty little whore, hmm?”
“Not someone,” I whimper. “You.”
“Fuck,” he grunts and yanks his belt so hard, the leather whips against my sore arse cheek. My back arches as his thick cock thrusts all the way inside me and hits the right spot.
“Mason,” I scream so loud, my voice echoes from the walls. Thankfully, there is no one to hear us for miles.
“Tomorrow… do what you want with me… remember?” he snickers. “You don’t want me to think Etheridges don’t keep their word now, do you?”
“Fuck.” My fingers curl around the countertop as I brace myself.
Mason grunts and fucks my brains out, making a string of moans and whimpers pour from my lips while my clit grinds against the quartz. Every time I beg him to stop, he fucks me harder. First on the worktop, then against the wall, then on the floor while he feasts on my breasts and neck. Finally, when I’m spent, taking his cock for what seems like hours, drowning in more pleasure than my body can take, he finally gathers me in his arms and lifts me bridal style.
“Remind me never to make deals with you again,” I murmur against his ripped chest, my wasted body limp in his hold.
“No more deals, little dove. You’re mine,” he says against my forehead, then carries me to his bedroom like his queen.
32
EVA
I feellike a star fallen out of its orbit, untethered and aimless, spinning through the sky, wherever gravity takes me.
Not that I’m complaining.
I have voluntarily submitted myself to my red monster, and he’s devouring me like I’m his final meal before the apocalypse. He has fucked me in every corner of The Barrel. He’ll randomly pull me into his lap when I am studying in the lounge or pounce on me if he finds me watching him work out, then lifts me instead. The other day, I was teasing him with a carrot while he was cooking us lasagna. He sat me on the counter and fucked me into oblivion while the oven blew smoke. Apparently, food is determined to set itself on fire if I’m remotely involved.
