Page 38 of Bruised

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.”