The Master (16 page)

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Authors: Kresley Cole

BOOK: The Master
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M
ierda!

“Couldn’t hold out?” He knelt on the bed and seized my wrist. “If you have these needs, you call
for me
.” He brought my hand to his mouth to suck my middle
and forefinger between his lips.

As he licked them, he closed his eyes. I shook from sensation, feeling each pull of his mouth in my nipples and core. Could I come like this? I wanted to tell him to leave me alone, that this
wasn’t part of the deal. But those memories . . .

He took my wet fingers and returned them between my legs. “Pet yourself.”

I hesitated until he peeled off his shirt and opened the fly of his jeans, his dick proudly jutting, hard as steel. The tip was moist, taunting my tongue.

Game over. I had to experience him just one more time. My fingers got busy.

When he was naked, he started jacking that thick shaft as I masturbated faster. His big fist. His huge cock.

“You like to watch?”

I nodded breathlessly.

“I might let you later. For now, I want more of your taste.”

Grabbing my ankles, he yanked me across the bed. “Spread your legs.” When I did, he stared at my pussy. “This is mine now.” He met my gaze, telling me, “I
own
it. Just as I own you. I’m your master now, Katya.”

How could that arouse me so much? I was independent, not about to be
owned

He buried his face between my legs, groaning against my lips.


Ruso!
” Even as my knees fell wide, my gaze locked on his length, on the bead glistening atop that plump crown. “I need your taste too.”

“You want to suck me?”

“Yes!”

Another dark laugh. He maneuvered around to kneel above me, aiming his shaft to my mouth.

Though I’d never sixty-nined before, I eagerly parted my lips for him, tonguing the tip. He continued kissing me so sensuously, but I had to lift my head to get any of his length. Why
wouldn’t he give me more? “
Más, Ruso
.”

“You said you’ve never taken a cock deep,” he rasped between licks. “You want your fantasy?”

“I don’t know. . . . Maybe I could try?”

He released me, then moved to stand beside the bed. He pulled me bodily until my head hung back off the edge of the mattress. Then he stepped over me, positioning my head between his muscular
thighs. With the height of the bed, this put his cock and heavy balls just above me.

“Máxim?”

As he guided his shaft down to my open lips, he said, “Take breaths between my thrusts.”

Qué?

He fed his cock into my mouth, then cupped his hands behind my neck.

Oh! I knew this position. Ivanna had called it the “throat swab.” Like this, his dick slid in at a much better angle. Deeper than I’d ever taken one.

But when the crown went too far, I tensed at the sensation, jerking back. My legs drew up defensively.

He pulled out. “Relax,
dushen’ka
. You can take me,” he said, and he stroked my cheek with his thumb.

For some reason, that random touch—amid all the dirty sex of the last twenty-four hours—affected me so much. When he sank in once more, I ordered my body to relax.

“Good. That’s it.” He pulled out. “Breathe.” Once I’d inhaled, he slowly thrust again.

We did that twice more, with his hands cradling my neck. His thumbs lightly rubbed my throat, guiding me, coaxing . . . until the crown breached deep.

I was doing it! This way was so much easier! Or was it because of the man?

“You’re deep-throating me, Katya.” He sounded proud, which messed with my mind—and aroused me to a frenzy. I moaned around him.

“Taking it so good.” He withdrew, widening his stance. “Breathe.”

I inhaled, greedy for more. On his next thrust, I swallowed him even deeper, reaching behind me to grip the muscles of his ass. Soon we had a perfect rhythm between his thrusts and my breaths,
in sync again.

“Take it . . . take it . . . such a good girl . . .” He was teaching me, praising me, and I grew ravenous for him. “My cum will shoot straight into you.”

I moaned again.

“You like this. I can feel your moans as well as hear them. Breathe, baby.”

I dimly remembered a trick Ivanna had told me drove some men crazy. As my throat received Sevastyan and my hands cupped his ass, I dipped my fingers between his cheeks.


Dushen’ka?
” In a hoarse voice, he said, “Are you going to be wicked with me?”

I circled my forefinger at his center. To the sound of his groans, I prodded and prodded.

I penetrated—


Uhhhn!
” His mighty thighs quaked around my ears. “You’re taking my cum before I’m ready!”

I moaned again, and he bellowed, “
Katya!
” Against my tongue, his shaft began to pump. With a growl, he fucked my mouth, shooting creamy torrents inside me.

I drank while his thumbs helped his cum down my throat, his grip on my neck possessive but . . . tender.

Then came a last shudder. A final spurt of hot seed.

A long ragged groan . . .

He pulled out of my mouth, drawing away to return to the other side of the bed. Between breaths, he said, “Now it’s your turn.” Again, he seized an ankle and dragged me to him.
As he leaned down, his harsh exhalations heated my jutting clitoris, my swollen lips, and the sensitive opening between. “You’re already on the verge. Deep-throating me got your pussy
even wetter? Or maybe you liked exploring your master’s body? Ask permission to come.”

Despite my need, I wasn’t going to obey. “Can I come”—I bucked up, offering myself—“is what I’m supposed to say. But don’t you want to make me
orgasm?”

Accent thick, he said, “I’ll punish you for that later. You
want
me to, don’t you? For now, I’m going to lick your needy little clit.” He lashed it with his
tongue—once, twice, three times—and I screamed as my climax began.

Coiled tension exploded. I fisted the sheets and thrashed my head. Mouth hot and tongue hungry, he forced my aching pussy to contract again and again. . . .

He kept kissing me. Too sensitive! Too much! I had to twist my hips before he released me.

He sat on the bed and collected me in his arms. Claiming my lips, he gave me my taste, taking his own, our tongues lazily twining.

I was soon primed for round two, but he drew back. He affectionately tucked a curl behind my ear, making me sigh. “You just sucked me off, and you didn’t negotiate a price. I think
you’re beginning to like me.”


Pendejo!
” I disentangled myself from his arms.

“Should I start a ‘donation’ tab?”


Bésame el culo!
” I stormed into the bathroom. Inside, I gazed at my reflection, attempting to process what had just happened.

I’d never felt safer with a man—or cheaper. How could he be so tender, so praising? Then so cruel? Everything with him was an extreme. The
pleasure
was extreme.

As was my love life. Between my two lovers, I’d gone from “I plan to murder you at my earliest convenience” to “I
own
you.”

The latter of which aroused me
insanely
. Why? Why? Why?

I sensed, with a sick feeling in my chest, that Sevastyan was the only man who could make me feel this passion and intensity. In my limited time with him, maybe I should ignore his dickish
comments and explore my sexuality? Experience as much of his heart-stopping eroticism as I could?

To last a lifetime.

After washing off, I returned. He was on the bed, gloriously naked, with a shiny metal contraption in his hands. “You touched yourself against my command, and you came without
permission.”

I swallowed. “What is that?”

“Your descent into BDSM.”

I backed up a step. “You’re going to hurt me.”

That angered him. “I am not a man who would
ever
hurt a woman.” “Then what is that?”

He rose, stalking closer. “It’s a chastity belt. To keep you from coming.”

“Are you joking?” How archaic! “You just had that lying around?”

“Hardly. I couldn’t have cared less if a partner got off or not. Plus, I never would’ve been around one long enough for it to matter.”

The glimmering metal captivated my eyes. “Where did you get it?” And why couldn’t I look away?
Intrigante.
So intriguing.

“From the maker. A rush order.”

“Why me?”

“Because I own your body now. I bought it, and I’m owed it for what you did. I want control over it.”

My back met the wall. “You mean control over my sexuality.”

He planted a hand above my head, leaning in. “
Yes.
” I was about to tell him where he could shove that belt, when he said, “It’s only fair since you control me to
this degree.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You make me hard at a glance and have me dripping pre-cum like a randy lad, though I never did before.
You
do this to me. Minutes ago, I shot down your throat till my eyes rolled
back in my head, and yet . . .” He jerked his chin at his rebounding erection. “Why would I not want to control you in turn?”

My lips parted at his admission.
I
was affecting him like this. Me. A man of his experience, who’d known so many women all over the world, found something special in me.

Just as I did him.

“I’m going to put this on you, and you’re going to like it.” The wicked promise in his eyes made my heart race with excitement. He sounded so confident, as if he knew
something about me—something that I
didn’t
.

After a hasty risk/reward assessment, I decided to try it for a bit. I could always take it off.

“Spread for me,
dushen’ka
,” he said, reading me so well.

As I stared up at his face, I found myself spreading my legs.

The strap he ran between my thighs was wider in the front, tapering to a G-string in the back. Cushioned on the inside with inflexible metal on the outside, the belt fitted over my clit, leaving
part of my lips exposed, then slipped between my cheeks. Both ends of the strap fastened into a circle of metal around my waist. I was surprised by how tight it was, by how seamlessly it fit
me.

He jostled the belt to make sure I couldn’t get out of it. Before I could protest, he’d secured a small padlock on the side.

“You devil, you didn’t tell me it’d lock!”

“And I keep the key.” He looped a thin leather lead around his neck, a key dangling over his chest.

I sucked in a breath, rocked by how sexy I found the lock and key. It was like an erotic locket for two that intertwined when put together.

Suddenly I needed to come like crazy. With access to my clit barred, all my thoughts instantly focused on that area of my body.

“I own every one of your orgasms, Katya. I’ll bestow them upon you as I please.” He returned to the bed, to
my
bed, then stretched out beneath the duvet.

“You’re sleeping the night with me?”

Without opening his eyes, he said, “That is non-negotiable.”

“I’m supposed to keep this on till morning?”

“If you want me to remove it, I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to convince me.” With a laugh, he said, “Sleep well.”

CHAPTER 17

O
nce his breaths grew deep and even—insomnia, my ass—I cupped my palms over the front of the belt and rocked, desperate for
friction. I felt only a slight increase in pressure, not nearly enough to come.

Heat emanated from his body, his scent intoxicating me. And that leather lead around his neck got me so horny, my pussy quivered in its cage.
This—is—agony!
I turned over on
my front, grinding the mattress, stifling a moan.

When I finally passed out in frustrated exhaustion, sizzling dreams of the Russian tormented me even more. I kept seeing the lost look in his eyes when he’d licked me for the first time.
Kept hearing his husky words of praise when I’d taken his length so deep.

I woke after dawn with my clit throbbing, my nipples like arrow-points against the sheet. And a bounty of a man was right beside me. Nearly six and a half feet of muscle and power and latent
sexuality.

Over the night, he’d turned on his front, drawing a knee up. Biting my bottom lip, I tugged the duvet off him. As predicted, I was growing used to the scars on his back, but not the rest
of him. I moaned at the sight of his ass, those rigid muscles with sharp indentations on the sides. He lay so his shaft pointed back. His heavy testicles looked warm and relaxed.

Mouthwatering. I’d wondered if I should experience as much of him as possible. Seeing him like this, I found the answer so obvious.
Of course
I would. Why was there ever even a
question?

I slipped between his legs. Laying my palms on his ass, I dipped down to drag my tongue over the firm head of his cock. He awakened with a groan. The slit beaded pre-cum, so I lapped it up.
Another bead appeared;
más para mí.

His dick hardened until he had to turn over. “I can’t tell which of your personalities I like better—the fiery Cat who comes out claws bared, or my sweet Katya, who steals
between my legs so she can lap at my cock for a treat.”

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