Controlling Krysta (12 page)

“Tell me, Krysta,” he said. “You want me to admit to all my personality kinks. You first.”

“What?” All I could think was how I didn’t want that whip to leave my body and how desperate I was for Mason to finish me off with it.

“Tell me to fuck you with the whip.”

“No, I…” I didn’t know how to finish my thought.

Asking him to fuck me with an inanimate object seemed too deviant to me. Yet, a wave of longing rolled through my sexually charged body every time I imagined it.

“Tell me, Krysta.” He took the whip in hand again, twisting it ever so slightly inside me, then slowly pulling it out.

“No!” I cried. “Don’t take it away!”

“Tell me.”

“Fuck me with it,” I begged. “Fuck me with the whip.”

His lips curled into a satisfied grin. Mason slid the whip farther inside me than he had previously. A flash of sensual gratification poured through me. I shuddered.

There was something so wrong about being carnally pleasured with an object meant for pain. But that only made the action more enticing. I pushed my hips up to meet the next thrust.

As he plunged the whip in and out, he lifted my leg and raked his teeth over the skin of my inner thigh, just above my knee.

Then he thrust the whip and bit me hard at the same time. I dissolved into shuddering, jerking jelly.

I’d been lying there for several moments, eyes closed, my muscles drained of tension.

He’d pulled the whip out right away, and I was glad for it.

Now that I’d had my orgasm, I felt humiliated at the idea I’d been fucked with a foreign object, even though the feeling wasn’t reasonable.

Humiliation was usually caused by the unwanted actions of others toward you. But I’d asked Mason to do what he did.

And as the recent memory passed through my mind—him plunging the handle into me and pinching my nipples—a flutter of excitement shivered through me all over again.

Fuck. A part of me was sure I should leave this place and never see Mason again.

Did I want to be the kind of woman who asked to be molested by random objects?

This whole scenario put me in a submissive role, a powerless role, or at least a mock-powerless role.

I’d felt powerless with Brandt even though I’d loved him. He’d had all the money. Like Mason. He was a control freak. Like Mason.

Of course, Mason didn’t have a mother around to order him to break up with me like Brandt did.

My self-image had been so crushed after that last relationship that I’d made some rules. My life would not be about a man, it would be about me. I would take charge. I would be successful. If the right kind of man came along some time in the future, so be it.

So this thing with Mason was crazy. Wasn’t it a complete about-face from the strong, independent woman I’d worked to be?

I should open my eyes, grab the robe and the boots and hightail it out of here. I imagined myself stopping long enough to grab my car keys and purse and jumping into the car, although I wasn’t sure I could drive in Mason’s boots.

“Krysta.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Mason. I had to blink a few times to be sure of what I was seeing.

He was standing there, completely naked. I’d known he was tall and trim, but I’d never imagined he’d be this hot under his Italian suits and western shirts.

He had the long, lean—yet well-muscled—body of a real working cowboy. I wondered how much he could actually be doing around here considering he had an office job. Then I remembered he also had a complete gym in his mansion.

“Come here.”

For a brief second, my plan to leave nibbled at the corner of my brain. But here was Mason—finally naked! No clothing or gloves between us. I could run my hands over that hot body…

Before I knew it I was off the table and standing in front of him.

“On your knees,” he said.

I knelt on the clay floor and was confronted with Mason’s hard cock straining toward me.

I gazed up at him as he placed his hands on the sides of my head, caressing my hair.

In that moment, I didn’t care that I was in a subservient position, being petted like a cocker spaniel. Mason was touching me again.

He ran a thumb over my lips, his eyes shone—yes, actually shone—down on me.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about the day you…?”

I knew exactly what he meant. The day I’d surprised him with a blow job and forced my skin contact on him in the most intimate way.

I loved knowing that it was still on his mind.

“And when you think of it, do you touch yourself?” I asked boldly.

The corners of his mouth turned up as if he was about to laugh, but he straightened out his expression.

“Stop talking and suck my cock.”

Oh, the heat that curled through me at those words! It started at my neck and oozed down my arms and chest until it reached my crotch.

“Yes, Mr. Maddox,” I said contritely.

I pressed my fingers against the top of his rigid member. He took in a sudden breath.

Sliding my right hand downward, I marveled at how his big rod could be so silky soft on the outside and so hard underneath.

My fingers slipped under his balls. I took his cock in my left hand and pulled it to my lips.

He massaged my scalp with more urgency.

My tongue darted out and briefly touched his tip in a tease.

His breathing accelerated.

Again, I taunted him with a quick slip of my tongue over the top of his cock.

His hips jerked forward in frustrated need.

The caressing on the sides of my head turned into a squeeze.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

When I complied, he took his cock in hand and slid it inside. I now had intimate skin on skin contact with Mason Maddox, his member resting between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

I wanted to stop and savor the moment, but Mason wasn’t having it. He began thrusting his hips forward and back, sliding himself in and out of me.

Yes. This is what I wanted. Mason to initiate contact. Mason to take charge and fuck my mouth.

As he did, I laid my hands on the front of his thighs. I ran my palms upward, the sprinkling of hair tickling my palms.

I continued up, over his hip bones, until I was exploring his abs, taut with exertion.

His cock hit the back of my throat. He groaned and pulled out.

I was bewildered. Had I done something wrong? Was he unhappy that I was feeling him up?

“Stand up.” He walked over to one of the hooks hanging from the wall.

When he returned, he held some sort of horse accessory made of a long piece of leather—reigns? I really didn’t know anything about horses.

He wasn’t going to make me act like a horse, was he?

Mason took my wrists and wound the leather around and through the middle in a figure eight pattern, then tied the strips together.

I pulled and found that my hands were bound as securely as if I were wearing handcuffs.

Mason pulled me over to stand under the empty hook in the wall, a couple of feet from the corner table.

He lifted my wrists above my head. They were now held up by the hook and there was nothing I could do about it.

A moment of panic swept through me at the complete loss of power over my own body.

“No, Mason, I—”

He stared down at me. “Ready to skip out on the contract?”

His expression said this was about more than a contract. He was daring me to leave him. Was he still afraid of this relationship on some level? Did a part of him need to try to scare me away?

“No,” I said.

After eyeballing the situation for a few seconds, he said, “You could use a little more height.” He walked over and grabbed the black saddle from the sawhorse and placed it at my feet.

“What?” I looked down wondering what he expected me to do with it.

“Stand on the horn and the cantle.”

“The what?”

“The back edge.”

“Seriously? I’ll fall and twist my ankle.”

“I’ll have you,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”

There was something in the tone of that statement that felt bigger than just a comment about physical safety.

Then it hit me. I did trust Mason. Maybe more than I’d ever trusted anyone. We didn’t have years together. I had no evidence he could be trusted. Yet, in my gut, I naturally trusted him.

I remembered the question marks I always had in my mind when Brandt spoke to me…lied to me. I’d found out after the fact, he’d also been dating women his mother wanted him to be with, behind my back.

I should have listened to my gut then.

Whatever this was with Mason, I wanted to see it through. I had to.

I balanced precariously, one bare foot on the saddle horn and one on the lip at the back. The position was extremely uncomfortable to my feet.

“Am I being punished for something?” I asked.

“Nope,” Mason said. “I just think you’re crazy-perverted enough to like this.”

There was that “p” word. Except it didn’t bother me this time. Maybe because Mason’s eyes twinkled at me when he said it, and I liked the idea of Mason teasing me. The idea of him knowing me enough to figure out what I’d like before I did aroused me.

Mason ran his hands up my sides and ducked his head to capture my breast between his greedy lips.

I moaned and wiggled and nearly fell off my perch, but he took my ass firmly in the palms of his hands.

After he attacked the second breast, he pulled my hips into him. As his hard cock pressed against my pelvis, I was glad I was on the saddle because it would be easier for him to fuck me this way.

Mason glanced up at my wrists. “Do you want me to let you down?”

I wiggled my fingers. I still had feeling in them and I didn’t want to miss out on whatever he had planned.

Mason was clearly right about me.

“I’m fine,” I replied.

He made some adjustments and I felt his cock at my entrance.

His bare cock against my naked pussy. I creamed at the thought.

“I need for you to be mine, completely, Krysta,” Mason said quietly.

He needed a sense of control over his life. He needed me to never leave him like almost everyone else in his life had in one way or another—his uncaring dad, his sick mother, and his wife.

I couldn’t promise him I wouldn’t die. I couldn’t even promise we’d stay together forever. All I could do was give him the illusion of control right now. Sometimes illusions were all you had.

“I’m yours, Mr. Maddox. My body is yours to use…however you wish.”

He took in a sudden, big breath and I knew I’d gotten to him. Leaving one hand on my backside for support, he grasped the back of my head and pressed my lips to his.

I opened my mouth to him as his cock entered me in a slow stroke, then retreated.

His kiss became aggressive as he thrust into my pussy again and again, shocking me with his thoroughness. I was full of Mason. His touch, his taste. This was what I’d wanted for so long.

A whimper escaped my throat. It contained the evidence of all the need, and passion, and care I felt with him.

He stopped moving. His lips left mine.

“I don’t like the way this feels,” he said.

I knew immediately he didn’t mean the physical sensations.

It was us, together. He cared for me as I cared for him and he couldn’t stand the thought of loving and losing everything again.

I couldn’t let him run from love permanently. Not as the woman who loved—yes loved —him, and not as a future shrink.

He had to find a way within himself to escape the feeling of helplessness human emotions brought on.

“You’re in charge, right now, Mason. Just be in control.”

His cock retreated. I was afraid it was over. Had he decided we weren’t worth the risk to his emotions?

He took me by the hips and turned me around, forcing me to gain my balance on the saddle all over again.

I looked up at my wrists to see that the leather in the center had twisted. The bindings were slightly tighter.

When I turned to glance behind me, Mason was squirting lube from a small bottle and greasing his cock with it. He grabbed a towel from the bag and wiped his hands.

I rested my wrists against the wall for added stability. Then I felt him behind me, his slick cock between my ass cheeks.

“I’m in charge,” he said into my ear.

Was he taunting me, trying to scare me away so he wouldn’t have to deal with what was happening between us? Or was he taking my advice and doing whatever it took to feel as if he could control our situation?

He pressed his cock firmly against my asshole. I remembered how hot I’d gotten when he fucked my ass with his finger. The orgasm had been earth-shattering.

But there was a big difference between his finger and his cock. A big difference.

“Are you afraid?” His breath heated my ear.

Some part of him really was trying to frighten me away so he wouldn’t have to deal with this…with us.

Then it would be my fault for reneging on our contract and he could continue with his safe, isolated life.

The hell he can.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m afraid. You’re in charge, Mr. Maddox.”

I tried to steady my breathing. The fact was, I was afraid. I was afraid of the pain that might come. I was afraid of his big cock in my little hole.

He pressed harder, almost breaking through. Every muscle in my body tightened against the invasion.

“You could leave now, Miss James.” He hissed in my ear like a snake.

I glanced back unexpectedly and caught the look in his eyes. He didn’t truly want me to leave.

“Do your will, Mr. Maddox.”

I pressed my wrists harder against the wall, bracing for what would come next.