Free The Real Mason by Julia Devlin Page B

on the clamps, making her nipples burn in the most exquisite way.
    A trickle of wetness trailed down her thighs. She was a wicked girl.
    He reached between her legs and stroked her clit, ruthlessly thrusting in her pussy. “Spread those legs. Hands behind your head like I showed you.”
    Oh yes. He was touching her. Giving her what she needed. She closed her eyes and opened her legs wider, lacing her fingers as instructed.
    Please. Please. Please. The word chanting in her mind like a broken record, blocking out all thought. All chatter. Background noise faded, the only sound the rush of her own desire in her ears. Her only focus the burn in her nipples and the thrust of his thick fingers. The climax built inside her.
    The orgasm coiled tight.
    She hovered right on the brink.
    More. More. More.
    He stopped.
    She wanted to scream in frustration. Lids snapping open, fully intent on yelling her displeasure, only the look on his face stopped her.
    Pure male lust and hunger.
    A carnal smile curved his lips, then he flicked his wrist.
    A thousand tiny stings exploded over her pussy.
    She moaned. What was that? Oh god. Please let him do that again.
    “This is a flogger.” Answering her question as though she’d spoken. He held up a black instrument with long strands of leather dangling from the end. “You want it?”
    She licked her lips, distracted by the pull of the weight on her nipples. Such exquisite torment.
    “Well, girl?”
    She nodded.
    “Say the words,” he said, gripping her neck and claiming her mouth in a hard, quick, brutal kiss.
    “Please, Mason.”
    He flicked his wrist again but this time the strands licked over the curve of her hip. A soft, warm sting with no real heat behind it. More tease. Frustrating.
    “There?” His eyes danced with amusement.
    She scowled— no, there! —attempting to telegraph her most wicked desire to him through sheer intensity of thought.
    Another flick of the strands across her skin.
    “There?” His grin smug. Knowing.
    Jerk. He knew what she wanted but it was far too sinful to speak. She shifted her legs farther apart, hoping it was more than enough encouragement.
    The flogger fell across her stomach, tugging the weight of the jewel so her nipples burned. The words hovered in her throat but she couldn’t. She silently begged him the best she could.
    He nipped her bottom lip then rained a series of light whips over her skin everywhere but where she longed for it the most. She knew—she swallowed hard against the rising thought—one lick of those fine strips of leather against her clit and she’d burst.
    She opened her legs even wider, whimpering as her arms ached. Her hands hurt from the strain of being locked together but she refused to drop her position. Too terrified he’d stop and she’d fall to the floor and beg him.
    There was something scary about this relentless need but she ached too damn much to care.
    He paused, tilting his head to one side to watch her with heavy lids. “You’re going to have to ask me, girl.”
    “I can’t,” she squeaked. She pressed her lips together.
    He raised one brow. “I see. Well in that case you should be down on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”
    She dropped like a stone, the weight of the crystal pulling her nipples so her empty pussy contracted. For one brief moment she thought she’d tumble over the edge right then and there.
    He chuckled. “Aren’t you an eager girl?”
    Heat suffused her cheeks, which seemed ridiculous given the circumstances. She raised her chin and looked at him, waiting for further instructions.
    He stroked her cheek and his gaze softened. “God, I do love you, Anna.”
    Tears of joy sprang to her eyes. She wanted to say the words back but her throat was too tight to speak.
    Another caress across her skin. “First I’m going to fuck your mouth. Then I’m going to fuck your cunt.” No asking. Telling.
    Her inner muscles actually clamped down at his words.
    She licked her lips and