The Price of Mason (Forbidden Men 10)

Then again, that shouldn’t surprise me. Most of my clients were controlled, or rather, maybe I should say controlling. Controlling, cold, calculating, and powerful ice queens.

This particular client didn’t like things in her vagina—toys, fingers, tongues, dicks. She was all about the clitoris. But she was close, so freaking close, and I was desperate here, beyond ready to be done with this session. Very aware of just how many nerve-endings lined the entrance of the vagina, I swiped my knuckle around the rim, toying with her but not entering. And in response, her bent legs shot out straight on either side of me.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I, uh, I gotta call you back, Deb. I gotta…gotta message coming in on the other line.” Then, tossing the phone down, she grabbed my hair roughly. “Oh, shit,” she muttered, slamming my face against her hard. The collar tightened even more as she panted. “God…dammit. Fucking Christ. Get it, boy. Right there. Right…there!”

I kept licking, swirling my tongue and teasing her vagina with my finger, even as my air supply ran thin and my head went woozy. Black spots danced in my vision, and my jaw muscles burned like a bastard.

We were on the home stretch now. No stopping until we crossed the finish line.

Push through the pain, Lowe. Almost there, I chanted in my head. Just a little more.

When a gasp and a grunt signaled her release, I licked her through the lack of oxygen, urging her on, probably with more gusto than I normally would’ve in the hopes she’d finish quicker and finally let up some slack on the collar.

And finally, thank God, she settled. I pulled away, gulping in huge drags of wonderful, life-giving August air.

Holy shit, breathing was awesome. My chest heaved from the relief.

On the woman’s lap, Gidget grew confused and started to dance around, yapping again.

Meanwhile, I ripped the collar from my throat and ran my hand over the base of my neck, trying to rub away the impression of being strangled.

Oblivious to my distress, my client gave a satisfied moan from where she lay slumped, limp and boneless, in her deck chair. “Well, hell, child. I heard you were good, but that… That was fucking fantastic.”

It better well have been; it’d almost killed me.

I dropped my hand so she wouldn’t notice how much I’d hated the collar, and I flashed her a megawatt smile when she lifted her face my way. Couldn’t let her see any discomfort; had to keep up good PR if I wanted to land myself another gig with her or maybe even induce referrals.

“You’re the one who made it good,” I lied.

She laughed huskily as if she realized I was feeding her a line but enjoyed the flattery anyway. “Now I know why they call you the best.”

Damn straight.

When she ran her bare foot up my knee and along my thigh until her toes were tickling my abs, the muscles in my stomach tightened against the touch. It was overly familiar as if she owned me, which for the next five minutes, I guess she did. But I wasn’t a fan of the reminder.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked, rising up a little higher onto my knees so I could shift my face closer to hers, and in the process, gently dislodge her foot from me. “Because I’m here to please.”

“Yes, you certainly are.” She reached out and cupped my jaw. “Jesus, you really are a pretty thing, aren’t you? And young. So young.” She nearly drooled and licked her lips over the young part.

I didn’t answer, just let her look her fill. She was paying me enough to stare at anything she liked, so I remained patient as the tilt of her head let me know she was examining my face, then down my chest. When her chin lowered as if she’d paused her attention on the Speedo, I held

my breath, hoping she didn’t realize it wasn’t as full as it probably should’ve been. I mean, what was the possibility she wouldn’t get offended over the fact that I had most definitely not become aroused after licking her out? And would it bother her if she did realize how limp I was?

A bead of sweat ran down the side of my face. Desperate to divert her attention, I set my hand on her knee.

She jumped, surprised by the contact I’d initiated without her instruction.

“Are you sure I can’t do anything else for you?” My fingers slowly coasted up her thigh, teasing. “Like reapply your lotion? I’d hate for all this perfect skin to burn.”

“No. No, that’s not necessary.” She caught my hand, stopping me to let me know playtime was over. She didn’t approve of me making a move she hadn’t orchestrated. I wasn’t sure if she’d noticed my deflated package or not, but she didn’t mention it, so I guessed it didn’t matter, especially when she patted my cheek and turned all business. “I have another engagement to get to, precious. But you definitely earned this.” Producing a roll of bills from who knew where, she tucked the cash behind my ear as someone might hold a pencil there. “I look forward to our next rendezvous.”

“Definitely.” I rose to my feet because payment always meant dismissal. Lifting the cash to show my gratitude, I added, “Thank you.”

“No. Thank you.” She remained sprawled in the Adirondack chair, naked with her legs draped open and her shaved pussy still gleaming wet from my tongue. “Just leave the Speedo on the sink when you change, darling. It’s my husband’s.”

I nodded, feeling sympathy for the cuckolded man. I bet he would just love to learn a male prostitute had been wearing his swimming suit, which is probably exactly why my client had instructed me to put it on in the first place. It hadn’t taken long to learn that the women who employed me tended to have quite a malicious streak. Yet another reason why I made sure never to piss any of them off.

“Yes, ma’am.” Saluting her, I turned toward the pool house to retrieve my own clothes. Gidget scampered after me, following me inside.